the travelling gongshow

Hallo my brothers. Oh I am a excited girl, tomorrow I head off to a grand adventure in Fairmount with schmeltrex, lava and perhaps plus one. It's pretty much going to be fun and goodtimes abounds . . . namely, drinking, hot tubs, reading and zelda. All my favorite things!! oh my.

Basically today I have discovered that I am a packing diva. Ohhh yes, I am always and forever doomed to overpack like a crazy banshee . . . I blame it on my mother for not hugging me enough as a child. Also, I have decided that I hate writing historical book reviews, they are a complete waste of my precious energy and put me in a mood to start kickin things!! I swear if I ever see Fiona Watson on the streets of Glasgow, or whatevs, Ima cut her!! I heart ADD.

Take care my lovelies, I shall return in a week.

TO DA MOON!

i'll bring the sun

Ohh my brothers I found out that Jason Collett is coming to town on March 24 . . . Good month indeed!!! FANTASTIC!

Also, I am so cold I feel the need to have my third shower of the day . . . ohhh warmth how I miss you so.

oh it's a christmas day miracle!!

HOLYPISS!!! The Matthew Good Acoustic Tour of Sunshine and Miracles (perhaps I made up the tour name . . . perhaps) is in March!! That pretty much makes me a happy girl . . . actually, it makes me a ridicious overwhelmingly happy girl. Currently, I look like a creepy grinning fool, my smile splits the coast in half.

March shall be a good month for concert amazingness!! So now there's Matthew Good at the end of March to add to the list of Moneen and The Most Serene Republic . . . oh yes, more concerts please!!

So that pretty much completes my day of goodtimes, everything else shall be gravy. I just returned from a happy jaunt down Whyte Ave and despite the numbing weather, I had funness abounds. Ohh bless my new orange faux Uggs, from the ankle down was the only warm part of my body. Oh ho ho, they are tacky and delicious and you are jealous. Also, they are so awesome they could even destroy God in a kick fight (so clearly, Chad, you wouldn't of had a flippin chance!).

On my jaunt not only did I find lactose-free chocolate (joys!) and the most amazing shoes quite possibly EVAH!! They are called "I Am A Twin" and I love them with all my heart and soul but seeing as how I am going to be out of a job right away, and therefore, I will be out of money, I can't seem to justify it. Basically, what I am getting at is that some random stranger who wants to be my new best friend should really go and buy those bloody shoes in a size 9!! Merci beaucoup!

. . . I feel like everything I have written is nonsensical today. Me thinks it's because I am so bloody cold that I can't feel my limbs. My limbs, I need those . . . oh the humanity!

it's the beating of the hideous heart

Happy Valentine's Day friends and lovers!!

ohhhh yes

je regret

mountain man

Ohhh duuuuude!! I should totally of been born a mountain man . . . I have the hair!! Just look at it, all I need is a parka and the set of Fargo and I'm muthafucking Brakhage!!! The only difference between me and Brakhage is I won't be a crazy banshee and make films with tape and moths. Horrifying indeed.

Last night I dreamt that I was Tom Hanks and I was skipping after a defecating hippopotamus . . . explain that Freud!!! HOLYPISS!!

Schmeltie for the love of god don't click on that link!!!

fuck you obo

This insanely creepy music is floating up the stairs from the basement and is haunting me everywhere I go upstairs. Seriously, I'm convinced there is a small musically-challenged basement monster jamboree occurring right beneath me. Ohhh you should see the little muthafucker that plays the obo, he's flippin' awesome!

I am incredibly wigged out by the music right now. I'd go find the source of the mysterious music but I've pretty much convinced myself that if I do so it will lead to my death or whatevs. So play on!! Also, maybe, I'm avoiding writing a paper on colonialism and it's impact on identity. It's more like colonialism and it's impact on BORING me because I am sick of writing every flippin paper on it. Sometimes I miss the days on researching amphibious landings in WWII and the goodtimes that produced. le sigh.

The music is still playing. Oh my.

jesus powers the internet

paper > sleep says:

what are you doing up at this hour?

chelsaurus rex says:

being a nerd . . . 5 minutes to kill before bus goodtimes

paper > sleep says:

You are just jealous because I am going to be student teaching in a CHRISTIAN classroom!

chelsaurus rex says:

MY LIFE LONG ASPIRATION!!!

paper > sleep says:

I got up early so I could phone the teacher before school to make sure I don't have to teach religionnnnnnnnnn...

paper > sleep says:

Me: And then um... God did stuff... and it was good?

chelsaurus rex says:

that is good/funny

chelsaurus rex says:

haha

paper > sleep says:

My born again Christian classmate was all "GOD WANTS YOU TO TEACH IN THAT CLASSROOM!!"

paper > sleep says:

pffffffffffffffffffffffft

chelsaurus rex says:

ohhh I would have gone all eric bana . . . but I have a rage issue

chelsaurus rex says:

if it makes you feel any better I had to write a paper last night discussing the proof of God WITHOUT sarcasm. Yes yess motion clearly is facillitated by god!!

chelsaurus rex says:

I"M MOVING MY LIMBSSSSSSSS THANK YOU LORD!!!!!

paper > sleep says:

Didn't you know?? The internet is powered by GOD!

chelsaurus rex says:

yesssssssss

paper > sleep says:

You're not plugging into a computer, you're plugging into JESUS

curse you aquinas!!

I've spent the entire day reading philosophical proofs for the existence of God . . . excuse me while I smash my face against the wall ad infinitum. HOLYPISS!! All I've learned is that philosophers are fucking psychos. Fuck you and your circular arguments Thomas Aquinas!!!

Fuck.

all this nerditry

Oh my brothers, I have had a week of awesomeness. It was International Week at the University, which means that the school hosts tons of events and goodtimes all to raise awareness about human rights. Truly, it made me proud to go to a school that puts in such effort to discuss and question issues of development and global citizenship and what not . . . ohh yes, cheesy sentiment indeed!

Anyways, I spent my week going to an obscene amount of lectures. I think I clocked in approximately 12 hours of additional lectures above my typical school week . . . oh yes, geekiness abounds. But here's the part that I love about all this nerditry, I feel so rejuvenated!! There were so many people there that had taken a similar path in academia as I currently am . . . they were out and making a difference through education and action. What more could a girl ask for?! Dang! I just feel pretty much awesome right now. I heart International Week.

Ha! I'm off to go take pictures and whatevs. When I return I shall be reading till my crazy heart is content. I shall rue the day!!!

bag lady thoughts

le sigh, I am torn. I have an obscene amount of homework due over the course of the next two weeks and yet instead of working away at the little bits, all I want to do is go to Whyte Ave or Downtown and take an obscene amount of pictures.

See the problem is this: I have been deprived of a camera for far too long, I miss photography and yearned for it. The best part is that I have been housebound for most of the weekend so almost all of my pictures are of me posing in several manners. Pathetic indeed.

Clearly, I am in a bit of a rut in my personal life . . . this whole antisocial bit is wearing thin. Normally, I like being alone but lately I just feel lonely. It's weird that I can sometimes feel myself shinking into my thoughts, like they will overtake me and I can't communicate outside of myself. I dunno, I just have felt weird lately. Also, I'm starting to be concerned that the older I get the more painfully self-aware I will become. I'll become an introverted bag lady wallowing in the constantness of her own situation.

I think that's what has been bothering me lately, I'm worried the longer I'm in school the more confined I will be to the inner sanctum of my thoughts. That somehow outside of the world of academia, I will fail to communicate with others except those that knew me long before or those who are willing to discuss issues of development in the Third World. That, or I just need to get out of the bloody house.

Clearly, I'm just wigging out. Hallo moodiness!! All I need is a pair of black-rimmed glasses to go with my temperment and I could be emo . . . that, my brothers, sent an icy chill down my spine.

colonial conquests of the chest

My camera's triumphant return!!!

So apparently The Full Monty is nowhere to be found around town so I have decided to fill my evening with my other middle-aged love . . . Bill Murray. Oh how I adore him so. So I'm off to watch Broken Flowers (a Jerry pick) followed by Season 1 of Kids in the Hall. All the talk of it made me wants me some KITH, it's like sweet, sweet crack!

indeed old bean

I think I am going to rent The Full Monty tonight and rock out to middle age men shaking it just for me!! Amazing!! Then it's homework times abounds for the weekend . . . you are so jealous!

a marathon of fear

Ahhh I just had a refreshing ranty goodtime on WebCT. I dashed the dreams of some incredibly idealistic fool from my history class . . . ha! I am clearly the master of funk and evil!! Tomorrow will also hold such goodtimes as I'm fairly certain the person of whom I tore to tiny verbal shreds sits directly beside me. Neat!!

As well, the day will hold yet another amazingly awkward moment in Tory Breezeway. This is mostly due to the fact that I am an autistic git that is pretty much ALWAYS noisy/socially inept. I have a break before my Scottish History of class of which I spend like a nerd, sitting lamely waiting in the hallway outside my class, waiting for the opportunity to enter the room and claim my rightful spot . . . third row, third seat in. Always and forever. The small space is perpetually filled with awesome losers like myself. That, and painfully obvious silence.

When put in such a situation, I have a small nagging sensation to end the silence . . . unfortunetely, it is in the most inapproperiate way. Namely, I feel like putting on my Sunday best and running around screaming ERADICATOR where ever the silence lurks.

ERADICATOR!!!!

captain, my captain

So today was pretty much brilliant! I went to my scary intense PolySci course, of which, I followed up with cappuccinos with The Schmeltrex at Leva. It was goodtimes scheming up how I am going to corrupt her hypothetical mole-sized children. Namely, I would preach communism to the wee bits and follow through with my musky sweater plan of yore. Ohh yes, that stench is certainly the musk of an unhappy childhood!!

I followed up the sweater corruption coffee vignette with a caffiene-buzzed jaunt down Whyte Ave . . . it was happiness abounds as it was sweater weather. That's my most favoritest weather of all!! The greatest part of the trip was the miracle sweater that I picked up for 4 flippin' dollars at Divine. It's navy and red with brass achor buttons. IT'S A CAPTAIN'S SWEATER!! When I walk the street wearing this sweater people will call out "Cappy"!! And I will reply with a grin and a hardy bark to swob the muthafucking deck.

TO DA MOON!!

ohhhh nelly

So I haven't been posting much . . . or at all lately. Don't get me wrong my brothers, it's not for a lack of love for blogging and goodtimes, it's just the life of a shut-in isn't all that exciting. Literally, I've pretty much done nothing all week, the exception being Bak Hauk goodtimes with Tony last night. It was goodtimes abounds especially since the lady beside us kept eavesdropping and then proceeded to talk about internet porn! Honestly, if you are going to be a wretched git and listen in, be less obvious!! Or else Ima start fucking cutting things!!!

le sigh. Isolation has made me bitter and violent . . . ha! That can only be a sign of good things to come. Maybe I'll leave the house and do something today, I'll come back with stories to please the masses!!

Monday is soon to rear it's ugly head. Egads. I rarely mention politics on this blog for a specific reason: this is my escape, politics is my everyday at school and this is my happy reprive. But, my oh my, I can hardly contain myself. Educate yourself for fuck sake!!

welcome to lameville

So, I have been enjoying quiet tranquility these past couple of days. Namely, I have been going to my classes, enjoying the academic goodtimes and then coming home to indulge in fun things like cooking and sewing. I'm trapped in the dollhouse . . . oh nerd!!

Seriously, I'm starting to really love the whole cooking thing, strangeness abounds as me and cooking have been pretty much at odds since the massive finger cutting debocale of '02. But I'm making things that taste good AND not slicing myself in the process!! Smashing success! As well, my stomach has decided to hate all things animal related, aka milk, butter, and cheesy, cheesy goodness . . . so cooking is now a survival mechanism or horrible death. Yesterday, curry almond vegan burgers, today miso soup and coconut curried veggies with jasmine rice . . . tommorow the world! HA!

The whole domestic good things has been part of an awesome promise myself to fulfil my times with more creative or neat things. I'm fighting for my muthafucking right to party with my sewing machine or whatevs. Fuck you, you're jealous!

Anyways, goodtimes await!! Peace out bitches.

laps for clap

ohhh I think I have a friggin stomach ulcer. Of course, I have managed to convince myself it has formed out of the regrets and lost dreams that I repress deep within myself. Naturally, stress and massive alcohol consumption would have absolutely nothing to do with the burning leason of death.

Fuck you broken dreams of pain! FUCK YOU STOMACH!

rock out with your cock out

Hallo my lovely brothers. Oh ho ho, let me tell you about the indie rock disco. It's quite simple in fact: there was no indie, very little rock but a whole lot of muthafucking disco. Amazing!! The breakdown of my birthday evening goes as follows:

It all begin with dressing up smeltrex as an indie hipster. Myself and B had delighted in the fact that schmel has little visual conception of what indie is and naturally since we were going to the indie rock disco I demanded that she dress indie. Ohh my brothers, what fun! My and B were like maniac little fasionistas with a vision, and schmel was nothing but a trooper. The end result was friggin amazing! Wife beater, pearls, newsboy cap and grandma sweater, oh my!

Then the predrinking began. After the crack of the bottle, I felt it necessary to arm schmel with the proper indie attitude now that the outfit was complete. Oh ho ho, we practiced looking generally disinterested with the world for a good solid hour. HOLYPISS!!

After the drinking drunk goodtimes we were off to embrace the night and to dance our little feets off. We got at the indie rock disco at about ten and with tripidation we walked through the doors only to be greeted by a cheesy 80s song. Naturally we asked to pay the four dollar cover I demanded that birthday girls do not pay dammit! Yes, birthday attention whore awesomeness. The radtacular behaviour of demanding free drinks/free attention/free anything because of my birthday situation continued throughout the night.

The disco itself was pretty much empty and those filling room were gay men, a few couples and one cougar . . . so basically the recipe for awesomeness! Me et al. sat with in a booth listening to Madonna pour out of the speakers followed up by Groovers in the Hall . . . it was the music of bad wedding receptions and high school dance parties. It was a disco of LIES AND DECEPTION! But naturally with enough rum to give me superhuman strengths, we hit the floor.

At any point there would only be 4 people on the dance floor at anytime . . . it's an intimidating space, especially when you are one of the four. Whatevs I say!! The dancing ensued and oh my it pretty much didn't stop until my calves screamed in pain and schmel was molested by one of the few straight guys we managed to find. As we were preparing to leave my most favorite person in the world came to say goodbye: it was the cougar!!

Her name was Lynn and I love her because we schmel told her it was my birthday in the gross little bathroom she turned to me with beady eyes . . . and then proceed to rap 50 cent to me. The accoustics of the space where fucking awesome for such a moment!! Everytime she saw me on the dance floor, she proceeded to rap ol' 50 to me. Amazing! At the end of the night, Lynn's speech was significantly slurred so the impact of her speech was slightly lost.

"It's your 21st birthday. You live the year with no regrets because you're 21. You live."

And with that she staggered off into the night . . .

TO DA MOON!

lameness abounds!!

Tomorrow is my 21st birthday.

Birthdays are a weird time for me as I always get really bugged out about strange things. I start thinking about the year in retrospect and start to get the wiggins. I hate thinking about all the opportunities or hopes or whatevs I had about my 20th year and how clearly fucked it up. It's stupid stuff like wasting a day watching TV when I should have been doing something creative or retarded or not calling a friend on their birthday. Or something less lame and introspective.

Fuck that. The truth is, my birthday just a way for me to force people around me to give me constant attention. It's a quasi-legit excuse for my needy love mongering. Honestly, I act all embarassed when people ask me about my birthday but really I want them to tell me over and over how fucking cool I am! I loves it!! On your birthday the conversion should exclusively involve the birthday girl/boy and nothing else as it all sullies the importance of their day. I love it so much I try to expand it as much as possible by including a pre-birthday, birthday, post-birthday and faux birthday goodtimes . . . oh yes, it's fun and goodtimes abounds for like a solid week.

Oh yes, I put way too much emphasis on birthdays but it's the one day a year I have to be an outlandish pig about my attention needs.

highly abnormal shark-like fish

To compensate for my lack of New Year's Eve plans, I intend to spend my evening sewing miracles whilst watching Bill Murray movies . . . this means goodtimes with The Life Aquatic, Lost in Translation and Rushmore, or so the plan goes. Knowing me, I'll get through the Life Aquatic and be filled with an overwhelming desire to stitch 'Z's on everything . . . it will be like an cocaine lost evening only with yarn and less narcotics.

The following is my one and only New Year's resolution: learn to play Dungeons and Dragons like one mean muthafucker! Oh ho ho, I will be a Dungeon Master before the month is up!!

the return of phasoom the magnificent

Oh my brothers, last night was pretty much amazing. I was hit with the typical fever of boredom that follows a particularly lush festivus, there is no more chocolate, rum or mashed potatoes left . . . I am a shell of a person without such wonderous things.

To battle the upcoming depression I could feel lurking in my gullet, I meandered downstairs in search of adventure . . . there it was, could it be any more obvious?!?! Phasoom the Magnificent, the sewing machine of wonder and unicorns or whatevs!! It was love, my brothers, it just felt right. Pretty much what was to follow is now recorded in the history books of fucking amazingness. Not only did I make a purse but it didn't suck, and it had a liner which also didn't suck!!! But also, it looks fucking amazing!!! It shall be named the 'Rory' Purse because just like Rory's conception on the Gilmore Girls, it was a surprise that resulted in great and many things!! Namely, something to distract me every Tuesday night. Ha! I AM THE MASTER OF MUTHAFUCKING SEWING CHIC!

Oh ho ho!! And to add to the creative splendor, I figured out what to do on my looming 21st birthday besides the whole drinking drank drunk bit. Wait for it . . . THE INDIE ROCK DISCO!!! It's once a week at the Velvet Underground and it happens to be on my birthday. So if one can't be in Germany on their birthday at least you can do what the Germans do, and that my friends, is to muthafucking rock out! Oh my dancing shoes will be a grooving that night.

Happiness, my brothers, consists of a little thing called disco groove. That and a whole lot of drinking.

i heart alcoholism

Ha! It's a good thing I've been drunk since 1 in the afternoon considering that I have to work at 6 in the friggin morning tomorrow . . . spending the majority of the day drinking yourself drunk is a sign of a muthafucking good one!!!

you, me and the bottle makes three

Ha! A post! It's a Christmas miracle.

Ohh my precious brothers, it has been a week of drunken festivus debotchery. It's been a long standing family tradition to spend the entire holiday in a completely awesome stupor. HOLYPISS!!! I live up to the Scottish heritage with all the rum consumed and whatnot. I could fucking drink Yeltsin under the bloody table!

It was a week of fun and goodtimes and the haul was plentiful. Amongst some of the amazingly great things was a whole ton of organic teas, a Planet Organic tote bag and Balkan Ghosts, a book I have been pining after since Christ was a child . . . all of these things lead to a very happy Chelsey. Now all I need is a whole shwack of Raymi goods and all will be right with my material world. Well, that and my new camera which is close to fruition. Ohhhh, mon freres, je suis tres excited to have a camera again. It will be pretty and beautiful and I will rule the world with my camera of awesomeness!!! I shall name it Rupert and I will love it because it is my Rupert. le sigh.

To complete the festivus celebration, I am enjoying some Bowie and some very tight tights. Ohhhh Labyrinth, you please me so. Honestly, that movie must have been supported by the friggin glitter industry . . . it's me, Labyrinth and a whole lot of rum. oh yes.

Peace out homeslices.

kick them straight in the face

Ha! I am a girl of drunk tonight . . . oh yes, the drunk is on, and yes, goodtimes. Also, COMMAS!! You are jealous and that's okay. Mostly, I am excited because in my weakened state I managed to remember my blog login junk or whatevs. I am the muthafucking champion!!

I am currently writing about schmelty as it has been threatened that a post without the scmelt in her home is equal to a swift kick to the face. Oh what a state I am in . . . The evil Schmeltrex likes to prepare her drink with drunken miscalculations, it's like "would you like some coke with your muthafucking rum?" DANG!!

Off to the great adventures that await us in Riverbend. TO DA MOON!!!

blog it like it's hot

ohhh my, one exam left and my brain is reeling. Fortunetely, the easiest exam is saved for last so I only require a small portion of my head to function properly. le sigh. I am a tired girl. Actual posting to come later . . . I'll regale you, my lovelys, with how I blugeoned an A & B sound guy to death for withholding my camera beyond the 60 days. Or not. Whatevs.

i'll give you a winter of humanity

Ohh my lovely brothers, I just got back from a walk of greatness around abounds town. It was pretty much amazing as it was uber-windy . . . with all the billowlyness I felt like a muthafucking superhero!!! Amazing!!

Aside from my superhero revelation, I was also hit with an amazing epiphany thanks to Smeltrex. Santa is cleary a communist. Could it be anymore obvious!!! He hands out presents to worker's children, the elves are clearly unionized and the red suit, it all adds up to one jolly fucking pinko! I loves it.

the pole of grievances

So I've been running around all day looking white-trash/rock n' roll fantastic, it's all ruined now because I have to go to friggin work. Dang! Just to make things even more lame, I have to wear this monster of a company shirt to celebrate the holidays . . . I am going to smash my face against the wall until I lose conscienceness.

Seriously, I want to speak to the small Euroasian child that is responsible for stitching this shirt. It was clearly designed to fit a small demographic of individuals whose arms have been removed and gorilla limbs have been surgically grafted on the empty sockets of the torso . . . hallo graphic!!

The only thing I can take solace in is that if I push the sleeves up to my elbows it's like a bad 80's flashback. This of course means only one thing, I'm putting on the muthafucking Madonna "Hung Up" and annoying the crap out of The Mombles.

Peace out.

ce doit être amour

ohh today was a day of glory! It was the first day with no school, I lived out today in sheer ignorance of the looming doom of my exams . . . it was lovely to not care for a day. The day was filled with niceities like doing an obscene amount of laundry and watching Batman Begins for the eleventy-bazillionith time. le sigh. The John Lennon tribute I was watching is now rolling the credits. To complete my lovely day, I'm off to make myself a greek salad of greatness and then go for a walk. My Broken Social Scene cd shall accompany me, walking hand in hand as lovers do.

I feel the warm welcoming glow of laziness take me over. I'm content.

j'aime le crafts

So the Grand Bazaar was pretty much amazing! I loves me craft shows.

It was fun and goodtimes abounds. I walked into the studio, it smelled of mulled cider, leather and cigarette smoke . . . it was the musk of hipsters. There was a small jazz band set up in the corner, rocking out that far out sound. I always regret hearing a good local band and then proceeding to be such a dink that I forget to ask their name. This was one of those times and I am friggin idiot! Even better than the sound was the visual art greatness that overwhelmed the space. Purses, buttons and photography, oh my!! I was in crafty heaven and now I'm off to enjoy all my new things of wonder and joy.

i am the fucking kildeer

Ohhhh today will be a day of glory . . . it's my first day off in like forevah!! To ensure that I fully utilize this awesomeness, I am filling my day with my most favoritest things: Kenny vs. Spenny, some hardy rock out time has been booked and best of all The Grand Bazaar is today. Basically, I am an exicted girl enjoying the sheer awesomeness of slackassery.

This week I was on the cusp of zombification, I don't think I have ever been so bloody wore out. Needless to say, many a good times came out of this . . . mostly me sobbing at the most inapproperiate moments. I choked on a mint, my coffee tasted bad and we were out of pita shells, all of which were followed a brief pitiful bout of amazingness! Honestly, me and sleep deprivation are a match made in heaven.

HOLYPISS!!! Kenny and Spenny are making out and I have a Bazaar to attend too!! Peace out muthafuckers!

here lies the remains of my academic glee

bleh. My brain is one paper away from a serious implosion bit . . . it's been way too active up there as of late, and it's not the fun type of crazy ADD/zombie thoughts either but the sodding wretched academic type. Ohhh I swear that after I hand in this paper tomorrow I am going to go drinking, oh ho ho I will drink myself into a fucking coma or whatevs.

Don't fret my friends, it's not like I'll be drinking alone, my good friend Henrique, the small swarmy French man that urges me to drink at frequent intervals, will be there. Naturally, no one else will see him, but trust me, he's there and he's insulting every last one of you . . . it's not his fault, he's French. Ha! I heart my imaginary French man!

Fuckkkkkkkkkkk.

pick a color and it's yours

Well, looks like my aspirations of Big City fun/L&G concert is going to be a bust. Ohh and it saddens me so. Unfortunetely, I have 13 books to muddle through and many more journal articles to peruse in order to actually write this bloody research paper. Curse you research!! I'm off to bury my nose in a book and sob. WOOT!

guard your brains like fuck

Okayy new plan: I'm no longer going to listen to Do Make Say Think when it's dark outside and I'm all be my lonesome. Don't get me wrong, I love their CD, but the first minute of the first track on Country Hymns Winter Hymns Secret Hymns sounds like zombies. Ohhh so creepy.

I am convinced that when the merciful zombie apocalpse comes, that song will be the soundtrack to the massacre. Naturally, I was busy convincing myself of this delicious fact and got so wigged out that the obsessive locking of the doors and peeking out the window had to occur. If the zombies are coming, I'm going to make it a friggin challenge to get my precious brains.

I really wish that I had a device to record all the crazy thoughts that entire my mind in a short span of time. It's pretty much like fucking brain hyperspeed all the time . . . I clearly practice quantity over quality. But how fucking intense would that be?! HOLYPISS!!

stephen harper is voldemort

Oh my, it's the final paper push before exams. Ha! Sleep deprivation is the muthafucking shit. Tonight I have to write a paper on capitalism and how it steals the very soul of the worker . . . me and Marx are like best friends, always and forevah! Then it's on to fun and goodtimes with Afghanistan and cultural history and what not. Le sigh, I loves me education.

Mostly, I am concerned that all this academic junk will impede my going to the Ladies and Gentlemen show on Saturday. I really want to see the tambo-rockin awesomeness that is L&G. That and also Pickpocket is playing at the Metro this weekend, of which, if I miss it my insides will slowly turn to sadness and death. Quite frankly, sadness and death is just simply unacceptable right now. The weekend mocks me with all it's potential!!

Fuck you weekend of greatness!!

chelsey vs awesome

My brothers, I have a new love . . . thy name is Kenny vs Spenny. Every second that I am not watching that fanfuckingtastic show I feel empty and hollow inside. There's no color or happiness in the world without my naive Spenny . . . poor rat bastard is always being thwarted by that devilish Kenny. If I ever see Kenny I'm totally going to take the show way too serious and kick the muthafucker straight in the junk or something less extreme. Perhaps a dirty look or whatevs. Trust me, it'll be goddamn scorching.

Oh my, less than two weeks and me and my darling camera shall be reunited. It's been a long and difficult seperation and I miss it so. Tell your camera you love it everyday and never go to bed angry . . . you'll both be better for it.

ADD and me

This post is a little delayed as I have been a busy little nutter . . .

Oh my brothers, Thursday was a Christmas day miracle!! It was a little something like I to call Broken Social Scene and oh ho ho it was fun and goodtimes abounds. le sigh. I completely miss them and the amazing good things they brought with their precious little selves . . . namely, a little indie awesomeness to dreary Edmonton.

It was the best show I have ever seen and a very close second in the Top Five Concerts list (Matt Good will always and forever reserve the prestigious first spot), mas maintainent, the seperation between second and first is like a milliwhatevs. Perhaps, what made it the bestest of the best was that I am the band's most favoritest person in the world . . . when your crazy autistic fan is up front rocking out and grinning like a fool it's best to give them the attention they so clearly need. My rock out face consists of me grinning a grin that could consume the muthafucking world! Je suis le plus boiteux.

TO DA MOON!!

my one true love I call thee internet

Oh my brothers, this post is a welcome relief from the disaster that is currently taking hold on my history paper and that bloody word count. I had merry thought I had finished my paper only to check word count and find I am a thousand fucking words short!!! How could I have been so naive? How could I of underestimated my word count so?!?!! It's the friggin' lame ass philosophy papers I have been writing, they have tainted me however with their freakishly small world count. Now excuse me, I'm off to smash my head against the keyboard for the next 10 minutes to increase my word count. DANG!

je suis lame

Bonjour mon petit freres, ohhh I have so much to get done in so little time it's bloody ridicious. Whatevs. Mostly I am conflicted as the Fait Accomplit opening bash is coming up and I am to bring some of my photos for display. And here in lies the question of which photographs and how does one display such a dizzy array of lame . . . me thinks I will just make everything black and white and play up the distortion to bring out the cool.

Speaking of the Fait Accomplit opening bit, here's a bit of propaganda pour vous . . . Everyone should join me at the fait accomplit thingy on Friday at Dewey's, the weird artsy room in Powerplant that you only venture in when you're drunk and looking for the exit, between 7-9. It will be fun and goodtimes abounds and I will be the idiot getting my drunk on and pretending to be artistic and junk. I'm going to even attempt to pedal off some of my photos, so you should bring money and buy things from me, or at the very least buy me a friggin drink. J'aime rum et coke.

Also, you should bring $15 with you to buy a new edition of Fait Accomplit, of which I'm published in, and also a back edition, of which I am not published in.

Ha! I heart propaganda!

get thee to a nunnery

Oh goodtimes abounds, "Sister Act" is on the telly, now normally I would pretend to be put off by the overt cheesiness but this one is special. Come on, Whoopi Goldberg and some muthafucking rocking nuns! Holypiss! But mostly I love this movie because I had the soundtrack back in the day, me and the retarded cousins used to put on the CD and create elaborate nun dance routines. Naturally, we would put the couch's armrest covers on our heads because the greatest habits it would make. A breakdancing nun is way better than that flying nun bullshit . . . it was bitchin and you are all jealous.

thank you my veteran friends

Oh my brothers, I was going to fill this post with my typically retarded ramblings but I have ditched the posty goodness to bring you an important message on Remembrance Day. And a way we go:

Hug a veteran.

Just let go and give into the sweet stale smell of the elderly. You don't have to know them, just find the liscence plate, you know the one with the poppy on it, and wait. When they stumble their awkward way up, that's when you pounce. Hug them for all they are worth because sadly they are a dying breed. Also, give them an extra one for me because they give me something to study at school . . . embrace them you fools!

reading is a sexy bitch

"In polyarchic systems the crucial bulwark against military intervention has been constitutional structures that define military authority and their realms of operations" . . . oh ho ho I know you are SO jealous of my reading fun tonight!

Tomorrow I have a date with a little something I like to call Political Paranoia: The Psychopolitics of Hatred. Ohh baby!

loves it.

and then some . . .

a lovely shade of mauve says:
gahhh I'm watching the mermaid baby's leg surgery

Queen of the Mole People says:
EWWWWWW

Queen of the Mole People says:
I do not like looking at surgeriesss

a lovely shade of mauve says:
but i love looking at mermaidsss

Queen of the Mole People says:
YOUR MOM IS A MERMAID

a lovely shade of mauve says:
SHUT UP!!! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!

Queen of the Mole People says:
I KNOW EVERYTHING!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
. . . excuse me I have to add more water to the bathtub for the mother

Queen of the Mole People says:
Don't want her gills to dry out!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
it's more so the scales I want good shape . .. Ima skin her and sell it on the fur market

a lovely shade of mauve says:
WHAT IS WITH ME AND MISSING WORDS!!?!?

a lovely shade of mauve says:
I'M A JACKASS

Queen of the Mole People says:
IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE 1/2 MERMAID

a lovely shade of mauve says:
we merfolk are smarter than you fucking landfolk!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
FUCK YOU AND YOUR LEGS

Queen of the Mole People says:
LOOK AT ME AND HOW I CAN WALK!

Queen of the Mole People says:
GEE, WALKING ON TWO LEGS IS SO FUN!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
yea well I know the depths of the sea!! DO YOU!?! I THINK NOT

it's a party at the winter palace and everyone's invited!

Je suis tres excited and also awesomely bilingual. Clearly.

Today is the day of research glory, of which, I will become the best of friends with Richard Overy and many other excellent war historians to explore the depths of Stalin's psyche. Oh I know you have got to be jealous of my education!!

Right now I'm watching Oprah and the little mermaid baby. Holy crap I friggin love mermaids!!

A whole new something less cheesy

Oh my brothers, I am an exicted girl . . . it is the first snowfall of the year. It's fantastic and crisp and the one day out of the year where I am not completely disenfranisched with the little bits. I love the first snowfall of the year, it turns everything a wonderful shade of monotone, and under the streetlights it almost looks pink or mauve or whatevs. Ohh I am going to get all decked out in my winter clothing garb, rock out to Bowie and take in the newly pink world.

gonads and strife

For those of you who do not understand why I love Matthew Good and his awesome talent, why I stand in line for hours before the show or even why I will literally get in a fight in an alley protecting my right to be an obsessive freak . . . read this. You'll get it.

the happiest little elf 

king of awesomeness

Oh my brothers, I wish I had my camera so I could record how retardedly chic I fucking look right now. Currently, I am wearing my rocking awesome Christmas slippers, they are fuzzy and sing the most awesomest carols at the push of the button. Oh they are muthafucking mean ass slippers. Dang!

oh moses smell the roses

Bonjour mon freres! Oh my, I have finally recovered from my weekend of rock to regale all the bloody details to you lovely people. My weekend was filled Matthew Good at the Starlite Room and goodtimes abounds. Three days of brilliant glory!! Ah yes, here's the breakdown:

The line was fun and goodtimes, I was there obscenely early as always. It's a thing, a schtick if you will; the goal being to transform Edmonton into the neurotic line-up capital of the world! Honestly people, get out and line up, cold brick and hard cement is the new cool. Alas, as it stands I am the lone line-up freak, people thought that I was not only a pusher of the illegal drug bits but also homeless. Neat! But there are rewards to such a neurosi, I got to hang out with Christian and Pat which was pretty much amazing. le sigh. Every day after a few hours with the filth and the wafting smell of Chicago Deep Dish food poisoning, I was joined by my comrades. It's awesome to be joined by a group of boys that are just as giddy by the sight of Matt Good as you are.

Let me tell you, I may sound slightly casual about my line obsession but it is not something to be tampered with. On the first night, I almost got in a fight with these people that tried to cut in front of me. I'm a relatively passive person but that crossed a muthafucking line!! Let that be a warning to anyone, you fuck with the line you had best be ready to throw down . . . ohh yes, so much street cred it hurts. Dang!

Ahh yes and now onto the best of the best: the concerts. It was a fanfuckingtastic tour to put it lightly. Matthew Good once again found a brilliant opening band, The Ladies and Gentlemen. Imagine a band of five guys beating themselves with tamborines and rocking the rhythmic clapping . . . oh it was fricking awesome! And then, Matthew and company came on stage . . . they were not to disappoint. Oh my brothers, the second night was the greatest Matt Good show I have ever seen and there have been many a shows. It's pretty much a guarantee that anytime a show starts up with The Rat Who Would Be King it's going to be the most awesomest. Not only did they start with my most favoritest song but then Matthew finished with an accoustic encore of Apparitions, Prime Time Deliverance, Tripoli and Generation X-wing. Oh it was goodtimes abounds. I heart Matt Good and the beauty he invokes.

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!

could it be anymore obvious!

My camera has broken on me, the little rat bastard!! Therefore I have resorted to this, pathetic indeed.

crinkly is the new pink

Oh man, today is the greatest fall day evah! It's those cheesy hallmark fall days where it's cool enough to put on your favorite long sleeve shirt and fashion scarf and your outfit is not impeded by a jacket. It's bloody brilliant. Plus, everything is crinkly, the ground is covered with noisy bits that whisper the mysteries of the universe everytime you crash through them. The air even smells crinkly, how else can you describe fall? As far as I'm concerned no word other than 'crinkly' aptly fits everything about fall and greatness of. Ha! I intend to run about like a banshee tonight making that delicious crinkly bits noise where ever I please!

Oh ho ho, I do love those exclaimation marks! Exclaim, I say!!

zombies are gross

I have a new most favoritest thing to do that will make everyone jealous of how awesome cool I am. This even beats the "Metropolis Run of Glory" which trust me my brothers is pretty freaking cool. Basically, it's me running around the house doing my best zombie child voice and singing
"I swim with the fishes cause the fish are alright. Oh my my just to get you to bite". Needless to say, it's pretty damn cool.

It's okay to be jealous.

the nerd-times are killing me

I have been a bad blogger as of late and it's not for a lack of wanting to post, it's the dauntingness of the white screen and the inevitable typing that must occur that puts me off. Chalkful of ridicious thoughts and yet no means to communicate it to my fingers . . . my clumsy fingers are my archnemisi. Oxen fingers of death, if you will.

So tonight will be a night of film goodness. I have rented the two weirdest new releases I could find. One being a post-soviet movie called "Since Otar Left", the second being the Korean film "A Tale of Two Sisters". Me thinks the second will be my favoritest, namely because it's a weird fairytale horror film in the traditional Korean pansori narrative style. WOOT!! That's not to say that Soviet film doesn't have it's merits because lets face it, I loves the USSR. *sigh* crazy pinko, I know.

Speaking of amazingly awesome film, the Edmonton International Film Festival is almost upon us. I have narrowed it down to six films I will be attending and strongly urge everyone with a love of good film to get themselves a EIFF guide and check out the amazingness abounds! Oh my brothers these are the nerd times I dream of.

reactionaries are tricky muthafuckers

I just finished writing the most ridicious essay titled "Normative Relativists are Reactionaries in Disguise". An essay can't be too horrible with a title like that, right? RIGHT?!!

for the love of porcelian

Two Campbell women should never be allowed to hatch plots together. Me and the Mombles have decided that due to our exponentially growing weirdness, in order to keep anybody around for long, we will have to wage psychological warfare. The plan is quite simple. Basically, we plan on convincing our significant others that they are insane and therefore our seemingly strange behaviour is only in their imagination. Oh ho ho, it'll be greatness. Small changes at first, like changing the color of their toothbrush or replacing all the non-garlic pickles in the fridge with ripe garlic ones.

The next step is my favorite: experimentations in perspective. Slowly we will change small white porcelian mugs for another that is only slightly larger. Once a week the cup will be exchanged for a new, identical mug (only slightly larger). My hope is that they will think that the coffee is shrinking, that my friends, is the first sign of the experiment working. Naturally, the expanding of a simple white mug will tire over time, one can renew the thrill of torment by randomly interchanging the biggest and greatest porcelian mug with the smaller ones. Of course, it is of the utmost importance to always return to the big mug, especially when the tortured significant other becomes wary of your ways. Small steps, my friend, small steps are essential to this plan.

This whole experiment is intended to completely shatter the confidence in the individual. Everything must be watched carefully or it could change before their very eyes. Coffee mugs are tricky muthafuckers. Their sanity will be so fragile that they will assume that you are the only one who could love such a demented freak such as themselves.

Can't you feel the facial tick forming? Delish.

sometimes just lazy

Bonjour mon petite freres. Oh my, this week has been filled with slackassery abounds. I have been absorbed with my readings (hence the lack of posts), all wonders of 20th century warfare has been commanding all my attention with a right fever. It really has been fantastical being back at my school, I miss the learning when I'm not there . . . ohhh yes I am the biggest in nerditry.

talk nerdy to me

Oh my brothers, my first days back to school have been lovely . . . my precious hollowed halls of University of Alberta how I love thee. For the last two days I have been doing all I can to resist the temptation to hug to dirty brick walls of Tory. Pathetic indeed! But oh how great my classes are shaping up to be.

My history classes are pretty much fantastic, both of my profs are socially awkward and naive as they have only spent four years at the university combined. My Russian history prof blushes furiously whenever anyone acknowledges his existence and then proceeds to ramble on about Poland and the greatness of. It's brilliant! My warfare history prof swears like a sailor . . . when a class starts with an obscenely loud profanity it's practically a given that it'll be a wonderous class. As well, he's also promised a visit from Romeo Dallaire of whom's brain I want to pick. All my nerdy dreams are coming true!!

Finally, to my nerdy delight all my drinking buddies from Carmichael's class are in my Middle East politics class!! This means many trips to the Powerplants and the inevitable drunken goodtimes!!

. . . Basically, this post means absolutely nothing to anybody but me. Perhaps, my brothers, you can revel in my academic goodtimes. Happiness abounds.

lycra is social masochism

I have a confession to make my brothers . . . I love chubby people who wear tight lycra tank tops. It's just the most socially awkward fabric anyone could wear, it assures patheticness in the coolest of ways possible. Oh ho ho, and you know who I speak of, my lycra bound friend, I want to be the best of friends with you and your uncomfortably tight shirt. We shall go old together and you can wear your stretchy shirt everyday. Sadly, it'll last longer than the two of us; still shiny and stretchy as ever when we become frail and old because it is the styrofoam of fabrics.

The lycra will never die like my love for you.

pip pip old beans

A storm's a brewin' outside, this of course can mean only one thing: I am put automatically into old lady survival mode. I am curdled up in the biggest, softest blanket I can find with ice cream and cheesy movies to keep me company. I'm watching the Notebook which is something I normally wouldn't admit but you are my beautiful strangers and therefore can be privy to the lamest of me. Oh my brothers, this is the lamest of the lame.

cauliflower with me s'il vous plait

Oh my brothers, today was passed with the lamest of ease. The majority of my day was spent running around the house in a wife-beater and my underwear singing 'Golddigger' at the top of my lungs . . . when Monsieur Kanye demands you to 'go ahead girl go ahead get down', goddammit, you muthafucking get down. It is quite possible that every person in a 10 block radius is completely sick of that song because of me. It's a feat I am rather proud of.

Aside from the sheer jackassery, I spent the rest of the day devouring the history of Islamic and Christaindom wars . . . oh delicious nerditry. I'm sure sometime in the not so distant future, I'll have to leave my house, perhaps, when the Kanye West Well of Happiness drys up.

Pip Pip!

beyond radtacular

HOLYPISS!! Oh my fucking god, if you don't watch this, I will be forced to hate everything about you because it's necessary to my heart that everybody has seen this video . . . the man in the scarf is my latest and greatest boyfriend.

Props to Raymi for always finding the greatest sites on the internet . . . also it's likely that I hate myself for the sickly use of the word 'props'. Whatevs.

meat numchucks: the greatest weapon of all

Oh ho ho my brothers, this week has been filled with far too much work and slackassery for posty goodness. Oh my, the rum flowed freely this week . . . it has been my ascertaination to fill every last free second of summer with drunken goodtimes, and if that fails at least some bloody goodtimes.

Earlier in the week, under the careful watch of the Council of The Smeltrex and Neville Helmet Hotbottom, I was beyond drunkedy-drunk. Oh my, it was fun and goodtimes abounds . . . that was until we hit the pool and played drunken turtle crotchballs. I downed half the pool in my pathetic, flailing attempts to stay afloat. Normally, swallowing pool water is a rather unfortunete moment in every swimmer's life but is paid little heed. This would apply if it was in any other pool, but this very pool has a designated 'free-range pube zone', where there is always inevitably some cluster of pubic hair floating carefree. With every gulp of pool water, a little part of me died. It was radtacular!

tales of extreme bochi

Oi vey, I am like an old lady today. After many rounds of rum-induced 'Extreme Bochi Ball' I have managed to hurt my back. Muthafucking bochi ball of death!

Let me tell you my brothers, the pain is totally worth it as I slaughtered all of the gents . . . well, that and the garden. I have this inately special talent to completely destroy everything I'm not supposed to hit, the garden was one of those unfortunete things. Followed by a very clear warning not to hit the garden, I then proceeded to throw the ball directly into the sodding bit. The causalities were great and plently, and include 3 beet plants, a head of lettace, and an airplane-shaped windsock. I'm an asshole and the beets resent me for it.