There goes my plan to blog like a mofo. Now I guess I'm just blogging like a fo. Or worse. Anyway, it's been forever, but somehow life keeps getting in the way of all the screwing around I want to do. Or maybe all my screwing around gets in the way of my life? Whatevs.
Last weekend was pretty radtacular. rydell came into town from Calgary for Meshell's birthday. I kinda missed the party cause I had two shows that weekend (what kind of dumbass has shows two out of three nights he could be hangin' with some beautiful SGs? This guy. Balls.), but I showed up a few times like a ninja and disappeared again when I had to. We did end up hanging out at the ocean for a few minutes, getting gelato for a few minutes, and a few other few minute things. It turns out, nothing in my life seems to last more than a few minutes at a time. Yes, even THAT! FML.
Anyway, meshell and rydell, it was very kind of you to let me tag along with you, and I'm sure there were more than a few people who wanted to punch me in the throat. See, I have this theory, and it's pretty much awesome like every theory I have: guys that see other guys hanging around with incredibly beautiful ladies automatically want to punch said lucky guy right in the throat, and to be honest, the guy hangin' with the hotties doesn't mind. If we get to be around ridiculously rad girls, we deserve, and even welcome, a punch. It's our punishment for being privileged. Things all work out so everyone is even in the end. Guys with gorgeous girls get hated and possibly hit, and guys with ugly girls lead a relatively tame life free from others' hate, but they wake up to gorgons. See? It pretty much evens out.
Anyway, the point is that we had a good weekend. And they even got me to dance, or my representation of dancing, which startlingly resembles a elephant with severe mental difficulties AND three broken feet gyrating obscenely. Still, fun times.
I hope you're all awesome. Cause I know I pretty much am.
Last weekend was pretty radtacular. rydell came into town from Calgary for Meshell's birthday. I kinda missed the party cause I had two shows that weekend (what kind of dumbass has shows two out of three nights he could be hangin' with some beautiful SGs? This guy. Balls.), but I showed up a few times like a ninja and disappeared again when I had to. We did end up hanging out at the ocean for a few minutes, getting gelato for a few minutes, and a few other few minute things. It turns out, nothing in my life seems to last more than a few minutes at a time. Yes, even THAT! FML.
Anyway, meshell and rydell, it was very kind of you to let me tag along with you, and I'm sure there were more than a few people who wanted to punch me in the throat. See, I have this theory, and it's pretty much awesome like every theory I have: guys that see other guys hanging around with incredibly beautiful ladies automatically want to punch said lucky guy right in the throat, and to be honest, the guy hangin' with the hotties doesn't mind. If we get to be around ridiculously rad girls, we deserve, and even welcome, a punch. It's our punishment for being privileged. Things all work out so everyone is even in the end. Guys with gorgeous girls get hated and possibly hit, and guys with ugly girls lead a relatively tame life free from others' hate, but they wake up to gorgons. See? It pretty much evens out.
Anyway, the point is that we had a good weekend. And they even got me to dance, or my representation of dancing, which startlingly resembles a elephant with severe mental difficulties AND three broken feet gyrating obscenely. Still, fun times.
I hope you're all awesome. Cause I know I pretty much am.
OK, so yesterday natassja said I should blog about my dreams. The unfortunate thing about that is...I don't remember any of them. The world is probably a happier place because of my dream amnesia. I mean, you've seen what I'm like totally sane and in the firm grip of reality....could you imagine the hell that would break loose in my dream world? There would be all kinds of shenanigans...talking hippos that look extraordinary in their leopard print speedos, kicking the hell of Micheal Phelps in the butterfly, rainbows that end not in gold, but a giant pot of duck vaginas (wouldn't you feel severely ripped off if you followed a damn rainbow for days, only to find THAT?), and horrific sights like Rosie O'Donnell doing yoga naked with an alien popping out of her chest eating gum from underneath the counter at Starbucks. No sir, my dreams would probably not be a pleasant image. Conversely, maybe I'd be normal in my dreams and they'd be full of puppies and kittens frolicking in the sun and crapping out little marshmallow candies while rydell and meshell have a pillow fight with pillows that explode not into feathers, but cute little chicks (the chicken kind) that I can run up and pet and look all cool and shit with in pictures.
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So no, I won't be able to blog about my dreams.
How about instead I rant about public transit. I hate it. I could stop there, but nope. I used to take the skytrain and buses in Vancouver all the time, and there wasn't much I disliked more. I mean, I had people cram up against me, touching me in places I save for at least the 37th date, and they never once introduced themselves or bought me dinner first! I mean, come on buddy, if you want me to roll with you, I'm flattered, but at least TRY to seduce me first.
I would, however, try to make the best of it. Whenever I was on transit, in anticipation of anything going horribly wrong (like in the movie Alive ), I would always pick out the person I would eat if we got stranded for a couple of hours. To call dibs on him or her, I would lick my finger and then touch him or her. It worked with KFC drumsticks at home, so it should work on public transit too. Also, I always carried a knife and fork with me. Just because necessity may dictate that cannibalism is in order, there is not need to be barbaric about it.
Anyway, the point is, I drive now. I feel bad for the polar bears that my carbon may be killing ( through global warming), but the fact is....there will be far less polar bear crap cluttering up the arctic. Also, they eat baby seals, so they are probably evil.
This is what happens when I don't have a good enough topic to blog about. Somebody....pleasepleaseplease throw me a bone...
In the meantime, watch this. I in no way condone the actions of the conservation officers, cause this was obviously a very stupid idea. It's only kinda funny cause miraculously, the bear wasn't hurt.
So no, I won't be able to blog about my dreams.
How about instead I rant about public transit. I hate it. I could stop there, but nope. I used to take the skytrain and buses in Vancouver all the time, and there wasn't much I disliked more. I mean, I had people cram up against me, touching me in places I save for at least the 37th date, and they never once introduced themselves or bought me dinner first! I mean, come on buddy, if you want me to roll with you, I'm flattered, but at least TRY to seduce me first.
I would, however, try to make the best of it. Whenever I was on transit, in anticipation of anything going horribly wrong (like in the movie Alive ), I would always pick out the person I would eat if we got stranded for a couple of hours. To call dibs on him or her, I would lick my finger and then touch him or her. It worked with KFC drumsticks at home, so it should work on public transit too. Also, I always carried a knife and fork with me. Just because necessity may dictate that cannibalism is in order, there is not need to be barbaric about it.
Anyway, the point is, I drive now. I feel bad for the polar bears that my carbon may be killing ( through global warming), but the fact is....there will be far less polar bear crap cluttering up the arctic. Also, they eat baby seals, so they are probably evil.
This is what happens when I don't have a good enough topic to blog about. Somebody....pleasepleaseplease throw me a bone...
In the meantime, watch this. I in no way condone the actions of the conservation officers, cause this was obviously a very stupid idea. It's only kinda funny cause miraculously, the bear wasn't hurt.
I just read that a pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes. I don't know if that's true or not, because the interweb has told me so many things that aren't actually true (do you know that girls don't actually strip down to their lingerie and have pillow fights every time they get together!?!?! This only happens roughly 4 out of 10 times, if you can believe the latest scientific research), but still, it's nice to think that pigs can actually be as happy as, well, pigs in shit. Also, I'm a little bit jealous. Their orgasm is longer than my pick up line, trip back to my place, foreplay, the deed itself, and the shower afterward. Maybe I should work on that.
So, because I really do have a truly uninspiring life, yet I really do want to blog every day, or close to it, I'm just going to take suggestions. Yep, you give me a topic, I'll blog about it. I realise that this is going to be humiliating to start, because I have only 6 friends so far, and as far as I know, Rydell and Natassja are the only ones who read my blogs (all one of them, so far), so you two have a lot of pressure on you right now. Hopefully, more people will eventually check in and give me ideas.
Fucking pigs. I actually resent them a little bit right now.
Anyway, Rydell suggested that I blog about the Vancouver music scene. To be dreadfully honest, there isn't much to blog about there. I have absolutely nothing against Nickleback. In fact, I have the utmost respect for them. They created a sound that has sparked billions upon billions of knock-off bands, and have been wildly successful. However, I really don't enjoy their music. The rest of Vancouver, though, does, and to be successful in Vancouver, a band has to sound like Nickleback, with very few exceptions. I used to play in a gutter punk band, and we actually had success, but not in Vancouver. Not even in Canada, for that matter. We ended up just not playing shows here, and we'd go across the border to wicked shows just down in Bellingham, and then across the states. It was pathetic that we could play shows in Kansas, of all places, and have rabid crowds, and get less than 50 scenesters coming out to a show in Vancouver who would MAYBE tap one foot if they got really into it. Tons of cool venues have shut down in Vancouver because people just want dance clubs, and other cool places to play have early rock shows so they can kick everybody out and then get the dance crowd in by 11. I don't know why Vancouver is like this, and obviously people like doing what they do, so I'm a minority. Who am I to judge?
I do know that the band I'm in now, OneStarCity , , just played a couple of shows in Calgary and Edmonton, and we can't wait to go back! The cats there know what a rock show is...
Anyway, I don't want to seem like a bitter bear, cause I'm really not one. There, that's my blog about the Vancouver music scene.
Damn, really? A 30 minute orgasm?
We'll be shooting a video soon (with any luck) for our song "Panther Vs Your Face." I'll keep you posted about that. For now, you can check out a video my old band did. It made it onto MuchMusic, and then the band promptly imploded.
If I liked pork more, I'd go eat a bacon sandwich. Little fuckers.
I have one more rant today, then I'll stop, I promise. I have no problem with old ladies. It happens to all of us (the old part, not the lady part. The lady part happens mostly in Thailand). However, I DO have a problem with old lady smell. I smelled an old lady today, and I got very irate. I mean, really, you can't cover up the smell of rotting flesh by dousing yourself in stinkass perfume that you bought in a 5 gallon bucket at a garage sale for two dollars. Stop being so lazy....pick up your skin folds, scrub, do something. Cause now you just smell like old AND crappy perfume.
I think I hate pigs.
So, because I really do have a truly uninspiring life, yet I really do want to blog every day, or close to it, I'm just going to take suggestions. Yep, you give me a topic, I'll blog about it. I realise that this is going to be humiliating to start, because I have only 6 friends so far, and as far as I know, Rydell and Natassja are the only ones who read my blogs (all one of them, so far), so you two have a lot of pressure on you right now. Hopefully, more people will eventually check in and give me ideas.
Fucking pigs. I actually resent them a little bit right now.
Anyway, Rydell suggested that I blog about the Vancouver music scene. To be dreadfully honest, there isn't much to blog about there. I have absolutely nothing against Nickleback. In fact, I have the utmost respect for them. They created a sound that has sparked billions upon billions of knock-off bands, and have been wildly successful. However, I really don't enjoy their music. The rest of Vancouver, though, does, and to be successful in Vancouver, a band has to sound like Nickleback, with very few exceptions. I used to play in a gutter punk band, and we actually had success, but not in Vancouver. Not even in Canada, for that matter. We ended up just not playing shows here, and we'd go across the border to wicked shows just down in Bellingham, and then across the states. It was pathetic that we could play shows in Kansas, of all places, and have rabid crowds, and get less than 50 scenesters coming out to a show in Vancouver who would MAYBE tap one foot if they got really into it. Tons of cool venues have shut down in Vancouver because people just want dance clubs, and other cool places to play have early rock shows so they can kick everybody out and then get the dance crowd in by 11. I don't know why Vancouver is like this, and obviously people like doing what they do, so I'm a minority. Who am I to judge?
I do know that the band I'm in now, OneStarCity , , just played a couple of shows in Calgary and Edmonton, and we can't wait to go back! The cats there know what a rock show is...
Anyway, I don't want to seem like a bitter bear, cause I'm really not one. There, that's my blog about the Vancouver music scene.
Damn, really? A 30 minute orgasm?
We'll be shooting a video soon (with any luck) for our song "Panther Vs Your Face." I'll keep you posted about that. For now, you can check out a video my old band did. It made it onto MuchMusic, and then the band promptly imploded.
If I liked pork more, I'd go eat a bacon sandwich. Little fuckers.
I have one more rant today, then I'll stop, I promise. I have no problem with old ladies. It happens to all of us (the old part, not the lady part. The lady part happens mostly in Thailand). However, I DO have a problem with old lady smell. I smelled an old lady today, and I got very irate. I mean, really, you can't cover up the smell of rotting flesh by dousing yourself in stinkass perfume that you bought in a 5 gallon bucket at a garage sale for two dollars. Stop being so lazy....pick up your skin folds, scrub, do something. Cause now you just smell like old AND crappy perfume.
I think I hate pigs.
