i heart vienna

Hallo my brothers, I have just triumphantly returned from the Metric show. Let me tell you, it was not good. Emily Haines and her lot are boring-like . . . I stood throughout the show like a moorse git because of the boringness of it all. Listen to the sodding CDs and there's a concert for you. I must give Emily cred though, her dancing/twitching on stage is quite fantastic, it's quite sad but give it a week until I crack, put on one of their CDs and practice twitching and singing goodtimes in front of a full length mirror. It's lame, I know, but give into the goodtimes.

The entire evening was not an entire loss fortunetely. The night was saved by my delicious little crack babies, The Most Serene Republic. They were fanfuckingtastic. Honestly! The fan girl in me was alive and kicking tonight as my six new best friends rocked out like all good little hipsters should. I'm pretty much in love with them all now. Dang!

Ah the sweet silence is ringing, the delicious aftermath of a concerteer. . .

puff piece

in my heart, this is what the eraserhead baby should look like all grown up.

heyy look, it's german expressionism. neat!

pass me the lederhosen bitch

To compensate for what I am sure was less than satisfactory midterm in history today, I will devote my evening to Bill Murray and the beauty of. Nothing makes me happier than Bill Murray's lackadaisical acting . . . happiness abounds. Oh goodtimes, I call you Lost in Translation, The Life Aquatic and if time permits The Royal Tenenbaums. Sometimes all I want to be is a small Bavarian child with gifts of crayon ponyfishes for my heros. That, my brothers, would be fucking awesome!!

I love you Trotsky, please accept this crayon ponyfish as a symbol of my love. sigh.

lament of naptime suffering

The bloody world is out to destroy my precious nap time. It's no sleep for Chelsey and my mental wellbeing is lying in the balance. I curse whomever invented the telephone and it's persistant ringing. sigh. The bear has been poked and I want the world to rot for it.

fuck you, you're drunk

Oh my brothers, I was drunk as fuck last night. I heart menadering through the twisted, wicked halls of alcoholism. Truly though, the saddest part was that I was wasted on four bloody beers! "Four Beers" they all cry . . . yes pathetic indeed. But last night was goodtimes squared, it was a celebration of Tony's birthday and we went to a dance club that pretty much plays Top 40 rap music CONSTANTLY! Needless to say, I fit right in. When Golddigger played, I rapped it out like one mean muthafuckah . . . yes yes, I am the origin of cool. Oh I do enjoy being all egomanic-like.

Sadly, no pictures were taken to commemorate the greatness of the eve because with a heavy heart I must say that my camera is broken. Sigh. It's only going to take forever and a day for it to be fixed and then it can return in all it's glory! It's sad how deprived it makes me feel . . . I miss taking photos of sheer retardation.

Also, I think it's a sorry day that the two most popular search engine quests to access my site is "lions humping" and "Steven Cojocara". What the piss?!?

threats of a birthday rebellion

Happy Birthday the Grand Supreme Smeltrex!! You fabulous little muthafucker!!

henrique and the hunt for red deer

oi vey. I just got back from a gianormous fantastical ukrainain dinner. I'm not ukrainain, that probably explains the massive stomach ache I am experiencing right now . . . man those people can pack it in like one mean mutha! The wine I can relate to given that I'm Scotish and all . . . me and alcohol will always understand each other always and forever. Oh of course, the tummy a-rumblings are entirely worth it, as it was celebrating the birth of the grand supreme council of the smeltrex. Or faux birthday as it were.

The weekend, food aside, was also filled with wonder and goodtimes. Naturally, I had drank myself drunk last night followed by a hungover me going to the Art vs Crafts show at Queen Elizabeth Hall . . . it was fanfriggintastic. I was a girl on a mission, randomly mendering the booths until I found my beautiful purse of eternal greatness. The purse is lovely and good in all the ways a purse should be. It's by Bittersweet Genevieve, and she has singlehandly put all my purse making ambitions to shame. I heart going to shows that this though, it gets my creative juices going. Dammit! I want a booth next year filled with my wonderous garble . . . a girl can dream. Sigh, for now I can hug my 'red deer' purse till I fall to sleep and dream of that far out sound.

travelling incognito

Oh my brothers, I am now the proud owner of the new Broken Social Scene CD . . . goodtimes and a hardy rockout shall ensue!

Please amuse yourself at pictures from the Feist concert . . . oh beautiful slackassery

my heart beats for cranberry sauce

sigh. My amazing week of uber-busyness is finally over and I can return to my sadly negected wicked ways. Oh my brothers, my week was so incredible. The EIFF, Feist and drunken family rambles was just a few of the goodtimes abounds. I'm sleepy and lazy so how about I just post me and B's conversion and be done with it. But oh ho ho, witness the laziness and my sad love for mashed potatoes:

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

WHAT IS UP?

le sigh says:

GHASHASDKVHL!!!

le sigh says:

how's it going?

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

Homeworkful!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

You?

le sigh says:

Slackassery

le sigh says:

trying to recover from mashe potato overdose

le sigh says:

I dropped the 'd' off of mashed to make it fancy

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

Our thanksgiving was Saturday, so I am good

le sigh says:

it was yesterday but I ate A LOT of motherfucking potatoes!! OH YES!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

BUT THEY ARE TASTY AND DEMAND EATING!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

It wasn't your fault!

le sigh says:

I know!! They go down so smooth that I cannot help but completely overeat them

le sigh says:

that and I was a drunken mess by dinner yesterday so food was like my bestest friend EVAH!

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

there now my name matches my stomach's true love

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

YES!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

my name is unchanging like the wind.

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

you're name is stagnant. . . I can smell the musk of nameness from here

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

i laugh in the name of grammar

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

MAYBE I WILL CHANGE IT TO SOMETHING HORRIBLE

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

THEN YOU WILL BE SORRY

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

i clearly won't be able to sleep at night then

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

but no worries mashed potatoes will comfort me into a deliciously full/self-loathing slumber

I heart CHELSEY says:

THERE

I heart CHELSEY says:

HOW ABOUT THOSE APPLES?

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

OH THEM BE SOME SOUR APPLES!!!

I heart CHELSEY says:

NOW THE WHOLE WORLD WILL KNOW OF OUR LOVE

an espresso fuelled ramble

Oh my brothers, today was a day of greatness. It involved my most favoritest things: Whyte Ave, cappucinos and lots of film. It was my kick off day of the Edmonton Film Festival and was dazzled by the likes of Eve and the Firehorse and C.R.A.Z.Y., both of which were only to please my little heart. Ha! Be jealous of my amazing Canadian indie film day.

I must admit that I am now completely in love with C.R.A.Z.Y, it was what film should always strive to be: poignant, innovative and wonderfully narrative. Oh sigh, I loved it so. It was filled with wonderful character details that greatly remind me of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's penchance for revealing the mundane details of his characters. The love to read the most idle things and the necessity to iron toast, small details and quirks . . . I loves it.

Between the films was jaunty goodness, I wandered Whyte Ave like none other . . . Whyte Ave has become my home, I know the streets in and out and they embrace me like we were old friends. The graffiti I have come to know very well, I seek it out and with bright eyes of a child I take it all in. Indeed, I have become an obsessive nerd in the worst way.

Viva la France!