adam's guide to vancouver

I haven't been keeping this thing up very well at all. I don't have a great excuse. I've been busy with school, but not THAT busy.

Anyway...the reason I'm back is that dear Sam in London-town's colleague is visiting Vancouver in the not too distant future and Sam asked if I had any suggestions for him. I did! I started writing said suggestions on Sam's wall and realized that I had too many to reasonably put in a wall post. So here I go...

The stuff I already covered:

The only decent museum in Vancouver is the Museum Of Anthropology at UBC. It's in a really nice building, in a beautiful setting, and has like, totem poles and stuff. And totem poles are totally cool. They have other stuff too (arrowheads, etc.) but the real draw is the carvings.

While at UBC, if you're lucky enough to have sun (which is actually a matter of luck unfortunately) you've GOT to go to Wreck Beach. There's really nothing like it that I've ever seen. It's a real schlep down all those stairs (and even worse coming up) but a warm day on Wreck drinking "sexy cocktails" and eating "wacky cookies" or indulging in a "chinese mushroom bun...coconut bun" is really what Vancouver is all about if you ask me. The point is (for the uninitiated) that it's a big nude beach with a bunch of crazy hippies selling everything (illicit) you would ever want. You don't have to get naked, but it is appreciated. Get stoned, have a beer, gawk at nudies, have a good time. Get out before the sun goes down though. The atmosphere changes completely the moment the sun disappears over the horizon.

Also while in Vancouver, you should eat a lot of sushi. Sushi restaurants are abundant and cheap and generally of good quality (though though there are some glaring exceptions to this generalization).

Make sure to watch the sunset at Sunset Beach at least once. That's the beach down at the end of Davie St (which I'll get to in a minute). This is generally a stonerish scene too, but a lot of Vancouver's charm is that it's not unusual for people to be stoned all the time. Grab a coffee at Delaney's (just around the corner) before heading over. That place is always full of yuppie-ish fags who are always fun to watch.

Speaking of gays...Davie St. is where they all hang out. I don't really have a lot more to say about it actually. It's worth the walk from Granville to Denman to get to the beach.

Commercial Dr. is another street you've got to check out. You can get on the SkyTrain (which is the adorable, conductor-less, space age-ey public transport) from any downtown stop, get off at Broadway and you're there. This is the "bohemian" area of the city. There are like, some head shops, a bunch of good restaurants, too many coffee shops (the best being JJ bean, that one that's all white who's name i've forgotten but isn't far from JJ bean, and Turks. that's in the order you'll encounter them on the street.)

Vancouver is a really great city to go out for breakfast too. I've found it lamentably difficult to get breakfast at whatever hour I damn well please in DC. Not in Vancouver though. They're everywhere. If you care to go a bit out of your way, Bon's is a trip. It's at Nanaimo and Broadway. For five bucks (including tip) you get two eggs, potatoes, and meat or tomatoes and toast. But they let you make like, any crazy substitution you can think of. And if you're lucky the coffee cowboy will be working. He'll fill your cup and give you a "hey therrrrrre" and you WILL smile. The rest of the staff is great too. Also the decor is random tacky movie paraphernalia. Be warned though...it's some greasy stuff.

As far as drinking...well I don't know what the kids are up to these days but I would suggest going to the Cambie. It's just a really big divey pub and they have huge tables and it's really easy to meet people there. Also the beer is cheap and the food is...well the food is fine. Everyone in the city has done their time at the Cambie and a lot of people swear it off eventually, but it is a pretty unique atmosphere. Oh and they have a cheap hostel above it, but I've heard mixed reviews about that.

This is getting long eh? One more thing though. Chinatown. You gotta go. Everyone says the only one in North America that's bigger is San Francisco's but honestly New York's has got to be bigger. That's besides the point though. Go get a steam bun, buy some cheap plastic stuff, smell the dried fish, take your time. During the summer they have a night market on weekends and that can be fun. I mean it's just a bunch of cheap chinese plastic crap for sale really, but occasionally some really incredible gems sneak in there.

Anyone else got suggestions?...

teh truth is out there

Just read this thing from wonkette. They link to the whole article, but I think they summarize it quite nicely

http://wonkette.com/372975/mulder--scully-crack-911+condi-conspiracy

weird science

Is there anything more exciting than the elusive giant squid? I don't think so. And the more I learn about them, the more fascinating they become. For instance, did you know, they have like, MASSIVE penises? Like, really massive. And that they dispense their precious fluids from said member with the force of "a fire-hose"?

Just read the story.

http://www.cdnn.info/news/eco/e050925.html

girls lookin hot wearin less than bikinis

I'm gonna try and keep it brief here.

Points of interest in Miami:

Halo on Lincoln Road. It looks a lot like the Halo here! It's all white and lit with pink hued lights. We really just popped our heads in to see, didn't even have a drink because we were on our way to meet Rick at...

Bill's Filling Station. Holy fuck. This place was utterly full of man mountains. It was all shoulders and arms and Bud lites and MATTHEW RUSH! HA! I honestly don't think he's that hot (especially in a room full of men who were uncomfortably attractive) but he's a famous porn star and he was standing right next to me and everyone seemed very impressed that he was there. Not Matt though who was all, "yawn!". He's met Mr. Rush before. At Wet of course.

A1A (beach front avenue!!!): We of course did the obligatory cruise on Ocean Drive (which I realize isn't A1A) as the sun was setting, with our Sebring's top down. OOOWWWW!!! I had prepared a play list especially for this. It was a tough choice, but ultimately we cruised to the new Janet Jackson song,

Janet-Rock With U

which I totally love incidentally. It was very gauche and very Miami and very fun.

We drove to Key West after a couple nights in/around Ft. Lauderdale. I really wanted to get going early so we could see the Key Deer at the Key Deer reserve. They're endangered! And adorable! In fact, the Key Deer were a major reason I wanted to go back to Key West because I didn't get to see them the first time. Well the Key Deer and the generally hedonistic, nudie, drunken exploits. I had two reasons.

Well we didn't get to see them. First off, there was a bit of a party in the hot tub outside our room the night before we checked out. I'm not saying the noise kept us awake or anything. I'm saying we were having a party in the hot tub outside our room. So that delayed us a bit. Then I wanted to go to a department store for some shorts and socks. I found what I needed in about fifteen minutes, but Matt went crazy with the Speedos (we actually both got one) and those plaid frat boy shorts, and god knows what-else. So we bought some clothes.

Then I needed a book for when Matt was working and I was all alone at the pool (never happened). So I bought a book. It was called Matter and it was by Iain M Banks and I was intensely curious to read it. This one was a sci-fi thing which is what he's become semi-famous for (it was actually really great if you're into that kind of stuff) but I was so curious because I'd read his first novel (not sci-fi) years ago. One of those British coke-heads I hung out with while I was in Mexico gave it to me. It's called the Wasp Factory and it blew my adolescent mind. I don't remember it changing my life or anything, but I remember laughing really hard, being really grossed out, and feeling really shocked at the end. I passed it on to friends who passed it on to friends and I now have no idea who else it has left unalterably disturbed in it's wake.

The point is that we didn't leave Miami in time for the Key Deer. And we didn't leave Key West in time for the Key Deer either! I didn't get to see the Key Deer.

One more of these posts. That's it. I promise.

deer, antelope etc.

this is pretty cool. from boingboing. no great revelations or anything, and it's kind of a fallacy to believe that everyone could live even this way sustainably (in a lot of ways density is best) but it's a start

show me the dollar first

Matt and I went on Spring Break. We're both a little old for it (some more than others), and Matt hasn't even been in school for more than a decade, but who's gonna pass up an opportunity to get a tan and not worry about anything but a hangover for a week?

We flew to Ft. Lauderdale on a Thursday evening. I brought my math book and I actually did some integration problems on the flight. I was being optimistic that while Matt was working (he didn't actually tell his work that he was leaving town and would be talking conference calls and emails during the first few days of our trip) that I would be studiously doing calculus problems by the pool. Fat chance. I never got up much before noon, made it to the pool around 1:30, and happy hour was at three. I wasn't about to turn down free banana daquiris in favour of fucking L'Hopital's rule.

Anyway, we landed, got our luxurious, blue Chrysler Sebring convertible (South Florida's official car, if you can't afford a yellow Lambourghini) and checked into our trips first (but not last) clothing-optional gay resort. It was called Elysium, it was very nice and I don't have tonnes more to say about it.

But...

That night we went to meet one of Matt's friend's who recently moved to Lauderdale from Boston. He told us to meet him at a place called Georgie's Alibi because it was long island ice tea night. Ugh. The fact that we were going to long island ice tea night caused rise in attitude that was not abated by the fact that when we got to the bar I saw that it was in a strip mall. Florida. Class all the way. The long island ice teas themselves did manage to sunny up my mood a bit though. They were electric blue, served in gigantic mason jars and they cost three dollars. Three dollars! Apparently there's no law in Ft. Lauderdale preventing you to from serving two liters of alcohol at a time, or from taking said beverage outside to smoke.

So there I was, a cartoonishly large mason jar full of windex-coloured hooch, cigarette dangling from my mouth, wandering around a strip mall parking lot. That's when I ran into our flight attendant. He was wasted (as I would soon be after only my second three-dollar monstrosity) but pleasant and we all had a good laugh at how gay a profession attending flights is.

This is already getting long eh? And I've only covered the first night. I'll try a whittle it down to two more installments; tomorrow and the next day.

Never as tired as when I'm waking up.

This post is really just to let anyone who might be reading this know that I do intend on keeping this up. Last week was spring-break and I'd be kind of a sorry loser if I couldn't have fun in Key West without immediately blogging about it (but I was SUPER tempted to hook Matt's phone into his laptop and live-blog our first time at Halo Miami to report on any potential racial disparity I may or may not have witnessed while there).

I posted some photos from the week at my Facebook page, so have a look there if you're interested. I have a couple more funny ones that this guy we met down there just emailed to Matt, and I might put them up (but most of them are NSFW to put it mildly).

Also I'll do a story time post about our trip but I'm kind of hesitant to do so. Here's why: I was drinking a beer and talking to Lisa on the phone, and I asked if she'd read my post about my Comcast-On-Demand personal. She said that she hadn't, and that I better just tell-her-about-it-or-else because she'd recently been talking to another friend of hers who'd said that she'd just had the worst week ever and when Lisa asked what was so bad about it her friend instructed Lisa to "just read my blog."

I don't wanna be telling people to "just read my blog"

So that's one part of why I've been gone for so long. The other is that I'm lazy. I'll post more regularly now. Promise.

just in case you haven't seen it

this is David Sedaris delivering a pizza.

wake up....WAKE UP!!!

It feels like nothing's happening in music right now. Which is like, totally ridiculously false I'm sure, but this is what the internet has done to me. If it hasn't happened in the last 24 hrs, it might as well not even bother showing up. Things get old fast.

Which is why I've only been listening to old music lately. It started with a Kinks best-of which provided several revelations. Everyone goes on and on about Waterloo Sunset, and it is a perfect gorgeous/sad song. I still like Lola better though. I mean, it's about a tranny for christsake! The Waterloo Sunset guy might have complicated feelings and internal conflicts and oh that's very interesting and eloquent, but the Lola guy figures it out in the end, and has no qualms about it.
This might be one of the most queer-positive songs ever. That's so PC sounding. Ugh.

It's true though. How many (hit) tranny-love songs can you come up with?...after a minute of thinking I've got only two, and one of them's Lola. The other one is depressing and involves drugs and prostitutes and godknows whatelse. But Lola's about a young dude (I'm sure that's how the Lola guy would describe himself if he was around in the aughts, just a normal dude) falling for a chick with a dick that he swears he had no idea, man, and in the end he totally grooves on it, and Lola makes him a man, and girls will be boys and boys will be girls, and that's just fine.

This post actually wasn't supposed to be about Lola. It was meant to go elsewhere. But now I'm pretty tired of writing. The title doesn't even make sense at this point. Well, in lieu of the rest, another bonus question! What's the other tranny-love song I was thinking of?!!? Fun, right?

flat parsely. never curly.

I just finished watching Barefoot Contessa. It was my first episode ever, though I've been meaning to watch it since the episode of Curb where you find out that Cheryl TiVo's it. I really liked the contrived spontaneity, like "ohh this sea bass could use something unexpected, maybe I'll go check the pantry and see what I can come up with," then she pulls a bottle of pernod and "oh this will be perfect," and it is! Is she actually endorsing people going out to get a bottle of pernod just to make her fucking sea bass though? no one has it just lying around, and if you do buy it, it will certainly still be there by the next time you wanna make that sea bass, cuz no one's using it for anything else. nu-uh.

Well, this "spontaneity" extended to her wondering aloud what her friend (Roger I think) would do for flower arrangements because "he makes such fabulous arrangements."

Meanwhile, at Roger's house...he IS making fabulous arrangements! and he's wearing his pastel sweater! Roger was hands down the best part of Barefoot Contessa, but I fear he's not an actual fixture on the show and that I just got lucky that my first episode of Barefoot Contessa was the "Roger Episode". He just piled all these grapes in a big ol' bowl and tucked some laurel or salal or something leaves in there, and it came out looking pretty fuckin lovely. That way, Roger said, "If any of the girls gets impatient for dinner they can just pick off a grape." Don't mind if I do, Roger!

Then, you know what he did?, he set the place settings with each of "the girls"'s favourite flowers. So like, if your favourite flower were the peony, for example, you would know to sit in the chair with the peony. "Good conversation starter," Robert fake-whispered, like it was our little secret.

Anyhow, "The Contessa"'s food all looked really beautiful, and appetizing, and just fussed-over enough. I'd totally make any of those dishes, and probably be pretty pleased with myself for having done it too. She kind of reminds me of my mother, in a very unnerving rather than comforting way though, so I'm not going to TiVo it or anything.




Food Nework Bonus Fun-Fact!: I fuckin hate it when Rachael Ray (well, does anything) talks about adding E.V.O.O to things. GAWD! Stop that.

my two favourite things are commitment and changing myself

Last night Patrick and I indulged in what Dateline would probably describe as "binge-drinking". We went to DC9 for the Liberation dance party, which was kind of strange because I've never been to that place when it wasn't full of fags. It's still pretty fun, and the music is better (surprise!). The point of the story though, is that they had an open bar for two hours for a cover of six dollars. Well worth it, but it does lead to some faulty decision making later in the night.

Like when the woman from Comcast Dating-On-Demand approaches you about doing a TV personal ad and you accept her offer and are presently ushered into what you assumed was the cloak room and put under a bright light and asked all sorts of questions about "romance". "This will be hilarious," is probably what you're thinking, and it is for the most part. You answer the questions as honestly as possible without just outright telling everyone that you already have a boyfriend and aren't interested in getting a new one and that you're only doing this for a laugh.

Then you wake up the next morning and realize that you can't remember what you said to that woman with the camera, and you realize she was recording you talking about romance after an open bar (at least it wasn't about healthcare), and that she's going to put said tape on television, and you feel a little afraid for yourself, and what your boyfriend will have to say about this.

Oh well, nothing I can do about it now eh? I'm going to be on Comcast Dating-On-Demand. Look for me. Unless they don't air me because I was a drunken idiot. They wouldn't cut me for not being attractive enough; I've seen some of the pizza-faced dorks on Spring Break that are usually on there. And besides, when I sat on the couch and they turned the lights on, the lady said "oh he's a good-lookin guy!" which gave me just the sort of boost one needs before one records a televised personal ad. Oh god.

a bazillion dollars!

i just had a great (stoned) idea that's going to make some lucky person (not me, too lazy) a lot of money. i wanna build a giant, like totally to scale, apehead lincoln memorial and like, charge people to see it and sell t-shirts and stuff. like there'll be one of those "olde-tyme" photo things, but instead of dressing up all olde tyme-ey (boring!) you dress up like charleton heston (rad!) in like rags and stuff and get in a cage. we'd probably need licensing for something like this eh? like, how could we make it "resemble" but remain "distinct" from that series of ridiculous sci-fi movies that i won't mention by name lest it come back to bite me in the ass? hmmm...

it can't be all that pretty

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oh, you pretty things.

Skins is back. This is not news to anyone in the UK, but I just downloaded the first episode off of isohunt last night. I watched it, with french subtitles, and it was everything I'd hoped for. Well almost everything.

In a way, this new season opener seems to be playing to the shows weaknesses--namely, efforts to portray realistic relationships involving teenagers, amongst themselves and with their parents. Maxxie and his dad just don't ring true at all, and even worse, the harassment he faces (for being a fag) from a group of local chavs (and that harassment's inevitable conclusion) just doesn't happen like that in real life. In Britain, North America, anywhere.

But the show delivered on its (considerable) strengths as well. Anyone who's seen an episode knows what those strengths are: pretty teenagers who, when not dressed in really nice clothes, are likely to be all but naked, high on ecstasy, and making out with each other. Also good music. Grizzly Bear's, The Knife opened and ended this episode. Oh yeah, and there are not one, but two Maxxie dance sequences! TWO!


Also the episode provided me with my new favourite terribly insensitive slang word. When Tony showed up at the "rave" (that's back in Britain? or did it never go away?) and runs into the snotty upper class girl, she says she heard that he was a "total mong" since getting hit by the bus in the last season's Magnolia-esque closer. A mong! Oh that's rich.

Here's the trailer for season two!

day of mourning

Not a lot to say today, but I've been thinking lately about animalshaveproblemstoo.com. I was briefly obsessed by it, and it was part of my morning work routine back at STA. I'd check it everyday and giggle, and maybe email it to some friends, and further convince myself that I was in love with it's creator. But I left that job and not being in front of a computer all day lead me to forget about my deep and true love for him and his doodles. I still have the Yeti cartoon as my desktop wallpaper.

So I've been thinking about it again lately, and I went back to see what I'd missed this last year. I'm saddened to inform you all that animalshaveproblemstoo is on indefinite hiatus. He called it that. It doesn't look indefinite. From the note it seems pretty clear that we can't expect any more of the hi-jinx of those irascible hamsters and anti-semetic kittens.

I can't say I blame him. It must've been tough toward the end. The good news is that he's writing a novel! And will presumably put his time toward more productive ends.

Good-bye animalshaveproblemstoo. You were too beautiful for this world.

highway of tears

The last thing the world needs is another sad, sensitive boy with a guitar. They're mostly all complete pussies (Sam Beam), self-absorbed liars (Conor Oberst), doomed (Elliot Smith), totally nuts (Will Oldham), or possibly some dangerous combination thereof.

That said, boys with guitars are adorable -- despite the fact that they almost invariably have some variety of unkempt facial hair. So it's fairly predictable that I'd be enraptured with Bon Iver. I just listened to the whole album (For Emma, Forever Ago) through, but just once. It's nothing shocking; mostly devoid of percussion, lots of strummy-strummy, and lonely lyrics delivered in a soft, multi-tracked falsetto. He has a nice voice, and it serves the songs well, but the one occasion that he drops to his lower register and belts out a chesty chorus is the album's obvious highlight. Here's that:

Bon Iver-Skinny Love

There are a couple other standout tracks too, like re:stacks, and Blindsided (I think that's the one). It's worth a listen anyway.

omg omg omg

I thought I couldn't get more excited about this but have you seen it? Have you?


Dave Eggers and Spike Jonze making a Where the Wild Things Are movie is (I hope) a sure thing. Now if we could just convince that 300 douchebag Zack Snyder to lay his hands off of Watchmen.

getting gay with gays

I went to the New Gay Valentine/Anti-Valentine's party last night. For those of you who don't know, the New Gay is a local blog that's a regular fixture in my morning internet rounds. We've had a rocky go of it, the New Gay and I. We haven't necessarily agreed on the nuances of certain issues facing the young, hip and gay. And I, being the general loud-mouth that I am, have not remained silent when affronted by the New Gay. Oh no, heavens no.

I've been pretty regular commenter over there from the get-go. I'm actually a voracious internet commenter in general, and have long shed any previous embarrassment that I may have felt over this activity. So the bon-mots flowed.

Until one day, I read this post. See, I'd been layed up with a cold for two days, getting out of bed only occasionally to check in on the Olsen twins on Perez Hilton. Hung over from the previous night's Nyquil, but hopped up on the day's Dayquil, I was feeling generally delirious and sorry for myself. And after a couple of hours of daytime TV, (It seems like they purposely air the most shrill programming possible before noon, when we're least equipped to deal with the likes of Rachael Ray and Elizabeth Hasselback), I was in no mood for bullshit. But bullshit is exactly what I saw in the post. So, never one to be shy, I sent the New Gay an email, ineloquently expressing my feelings and uttering futile threats of depriving them of my readership (I'll cut you off so fast it'll make your head spin buster! You think I won't?).

Well the response was quick and varied. I'm tempted to reproduce the actual emails here, but some silly sense of ethical obligation prevents me from doing so. Zack, who's posts were generally my favourites, responded first. In summary, he said that maybe I should post the email to the comments, or even write a response for submission. Michael popped up next, which actually surprised me a little. I would have expected him to be first because from previous comment section flares-ups, it had become clear that Michael will pretty willingly take on the role of diplomat, offering offended parties a lot of maybes, perhaps', I-think-what-she-means-is', and his email reinforced that.

But then Ben got to me. See, I had mistakenly thought that Ben had written the bit that I found so irksome (he hadn't) and had addressed him directly in my message. I know I called him lame, and maybe counter-revolutionary, and possibly spawn of Satan himself. Consequently his email was lacking Michael's diplomatic tone. He called me vitriolic, and bitchy and sad. And stupid too! Because if I wasn't so stupid I would have noticed that he hadn't written it at all, and wouldn't have just "made an ass of myself".

Perhaps I'd flown off the handle, but I hardly think I'd made an ass of myself, especially by internet standards.

So when I heard they were throwing a party, I was wary. Matt suggested that it might be an elaborate rouse to smoke me out with the promise of booze and boys and once they got their hands on me they would exact their revenge.

That didn't happen. I met the New Gays, all four of 'em. Amy and I talked Project Runway. Zack even hugged me (cute!) . Michael tried to show me the guy who HAD written the piece, but I skirted that one. Ben and I shook hands and left it at that. They all seemed very nice and were all much more attractive than bloggers should be.

And you know what? as I wrote this, Ben extended the olive branch that is the Facebook friends request. A more meaningful gesture in this day and age I can't imagine. I accepted of course.

So what do you say New Gay? Friends?

shall i compare thee to a puffy sleeve?

I'm coming into this pretty late for any type of running commentary on Project Runway, and Amelie Gilette at the AV Club is doing a much better job of it than I ever could, so I'll be brief. Does anyone else feel pretty ripped off that they couldn't decide between Chris and Rami so they're giving them a mini challenge before the big show? I mean, why even bother bringing a subtitled Roberto Cavalli in if you're not going to listen to him when he says, "I zee ze art"? FUCK RAMI! Sure he made one of the least hideous dresses in PR history, but he made it fourteen times in a row. So rarely do I unreservedly agree with Nina Garcia. And to add tedious insult to contemptuous injury, next week is a reunion show! Why do this to us Project Runway? You know I could have seen spoilers of all five final designers' shows at Jezebel two weeks ago right? I've been uncharacteristically patient, and for what? To watch contestants whose names I've long forgotten laugh and shout and weep together? No thanks!

Anyway, a prediction. Chris will beat Rami, for reasons well known to him. So I'm giving 3-7 odds on Christian, 7-3 on Jillian, and 4-1 for the far-from-scrappy underdog Chris. Taking all wagers.

most. important. record. ever.

I'm skipping school today, for no good reason. I am eventually going do something more productive with my time than blog (like watch the next couple of episodes of Sarah Conner Chronicles), but I've been clicking around the internets for a bit and starting reading this Pitchfork (surprise!) article about Neutral Milk Hotel's "In The Aeroplane Over the Sea". They're making this really big deal about it--they love it in case you didn't know. A while back they named it the best album of the 90's I think. (So I just double checked and it's actually #4)

Though I never listened to it when it was released back in '98, I was always vaguely aware of it. I distinctly remember seeing it featured in Columbia House ads and Spin reviewed it favourably, for these were the days when I was beholden to Spin rather than Pitchfork. It wasn't until years later that I actually heard it, and even later still when I got really attached to it while painting my bedroom with Angie. My favourite thing about it is how sad it is without ever wallowing. And the strange nostalgia that listening to it brings. And the way that something so bizarre can be so familiar.

Here are two of my favourites:

King Of Carrot Flowers-Neutral Milk Hotel
Communist Daughter-Neutral Milk Hotel

The reason I bring this up though is, in the article they have several musicians (of the indie variety obviously) talking about their relationship with the record. Several of them name-checked similarly lauded albums, and several more of them say that they didn't really like this one at first, and were afraid to admit that fact to their (presumably) indie friends. That made me think of albums that those who read this kind of pop critic stuff feel real pressure to like.

Like Daydream Nation. Sonic Youth in general actually. I tried it out, gave it a real shot, but I just don't really like Daydream Nation. I think it's a great title, it's got a great cover (that I'd imagine looks even better on a 12"), but it does nothing for me. It makes me feel like I'm missing out on something too, because my general reaction to it is just "that's so noisy". Like I'm 60 years old or something.

So I'm wondering, if anyone is reading this, about which records you SHOULD like but don't. Anyone secretly think Loveless is a mess? That Exile On Mainstreet is ten tracks too long? That Unknown Pleasures is too depressing to listen to or take seriously?

it's really happening

I had hoped for this ever since I first saw Uno's adorable face last week and now it's happening. Uno won the Westminster Dog Show! YAAAY UNO!




Oh jesus just look at him. He's the first beagle EVER to win Best in Show and you can tell he's very proud of the honour (though maybe feels that he deserves it.)

It would be worth your time to Google around and find some more photos. I'd post more, but this one is from the NYT and I'm (kinda) breaking the terms of use here as I have no permission to for this (obvs). Just trying to stay on the safe side of the law down here in the holy land. And sorry NYT! I'll never cross you again.

i care. i care a lot

In an attempt to join the ranks of the evil, thieving bloggers who are single handedly destroying music, here's a song I recently got that I like, and think you might like too. Let's see if this works.

Oxford Comma-Vampire Weekend

This is further evidence of my seemingly mindless subjugation to Pitchfork. For the record, I think they're twats too. It doesn't stop me from looking everyday, even if I haven't slogged through the entirety of one of their exhaustingly overwrought reviews, maybe ever. This is a test run. Let's see how it goes eh?

ba ba ba

Monday again. Heading out to class for a bit but thought I'd first share this video saw at Idolator. It's all kinds of adorable. ABBA, Andy Gibb and Olivia Newton-John are just sitting around, all realaxed and soft focused, singing some Beach Boys songs. I've got some ABBA stories that I'll save for a later date, but things to note in this video: Andy Gibb is actually kind of cute (weird!), ON-J on the mother-fuckin snare!, and ABBA sings opera (not that surprising really).




That's today on the internets. GOOD-BYE!!!!

if they all jumped off a bridge...

Well here it is. I used to write bloggy type stuff on my myspace page, back when people still used myspace. And everyone has a blog. My boss has been talking about his a lot lately and I got sort of jealous so here we are--My first blogger post.

That's a lie actually. I had a blogger account back when I was like, eighteen. I think I posted twice about how much I loved Bjork and that was the end of it.

So mostly this will serve to update you about stuff that I love, and in equal measure, stuff that drives me fuckin nuts. Please bear with me while I figure out how this site works. A lot of the blogs I see have their own domain names, and apparently don't go through some third party. I have no idea how to do that, and I doubt I've got the commitment it would take to make figuring it out worth it.

Also I think I might post songs I like on here, but don't know about the legality of it, or if blogger even lets you do it. Tonnes of people do, I'm on music blogs all the time, but it seems like there might be a fine line between benevolently sharing your love for, and promoting an artist, and the FBI busting through your bedroom window as you sit, wearing your jim-jams, blogging in the dark (as I am now).

Which brings me to another topic likely to be covered. I live in the US now and have to worry about the FBI possibly busting me down, and the INS deporting me to Gitmo, and the NSA listening to my phone converstions, and the DHS denying me re-entry when I come back from Canada (or elsewhere). Obviously a lot of these fears are exaggerated, but I have some things to say about being a stranger in a strange land.

That's all I'll say for now. I'm gonna post this, then spend some time poking around the site trying to figure it out.

Aye-aye and Goodbye!