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Aug. 29th, 2008

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o shiiit

I had a strange realization this morning as I was for some fuckassed reason watching mtv half asleep.

It's almost 2010. Which means the 90s technically count as retro now.

That leaves me with mixed feelings. I spent the best part of my childhood listening to romanian communist propaganda music and when i finally got a whiff of the west it was the mid 90s clusterfuckery. It was that happy time when eastern europe jammed to german dance music and bon jovi without discriminating between genres. Which i guess... could.. kinda.. sorta.. be considered an eclectic mix.

In retrospect it all sounded like shit.

What exactly DID the 90s do for us?

Let's try a little experiment.


Step 1
Lock the door, throw out the roommate/grandma/cat to be spared the embarrassment.

Step 2
Open four tabs in your browser, go to youtube.com

Step 3
Search for the following songs:
  • TINA TURNER - I Don't Wanna Fight
  • LA BOUCHE - Be My Lover
  • R.E.M. - Shiny Happy People
  • CAPTAIN JACK - Captain Jack


    If your eardrums aren't bleeding yet, UR DOIN IT WRONG





    So needless to say I'd love to hear Bruce Springsteen and Aqua at Savage retro nights.. No rly. I would. Somebody put a word in for me.
  • Aug. 23rd, 2008

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    First, a confession

    I saw Sex and the City in theaters. Twice. AND I LOVED IT. And i really wouldnt mind if Vera Wang made MY wedding dress.


    Unfortunately i am not the prophet of a generation of socialites that made a career out of shitting on ex boyfriends in new york city, so I took to making my own birthday dress.


    Thus, I give you Sex & The Morgue.





    more if anybody gives a fuck what 20h of work get youCollapse )




    <3


    EDIT: I'm going to a comic book convention. HALP!

    Aug. 22nd, 2008

    static

    (no subject)

    day 2 of bday weekend thing and no sobriety in sight.


    also. hot sauce burns.

    Aug. 21st, 2008

    static

    Cuteness attack in 5...4....3

    My cat's mother is the whore of babylon and looser than a catholic womb so she keeps plopping out babies on dainsane1's porch every few years.


    So that being said, here have some fucking cats. These runts are like a month old i think. Theyre ugly as hell and they smell like wet garbage on a hot summer day.

    <3






    Aug. 19th, 2008

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    (no subject)

    ladies and gentlemen, i is teh weak sauce.

    i managed to punch 20 holes through the thick corset leather i THOUGHT would be a good idea before i came down with some serious wankers cramp and now im typing one handed with peas ductaped to my right hand.

    clearly. i was not made. for leather working.



    this better turn out good or else im going to turn that punch on myself and die a perforated death.

    Aug. 14th, 2008

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    (no subject)

    I have leather.

    I love Tandy's.


    8 dollars and change and i've got epic quarter inch thick real leather in 4 fabulous colours from reddish brown to tan to shinny polished copper.


    I can has corset now?
    *throws things at carl - who probably doesnt use lj anymore so i will have to actually throw things at him. again.*




    edit: completely unrelated but this is what happens when im bored and realize i still have Animation shop installed.

    Aug. 13th, 2008

    static

    (no subject)

    IKEA scares the shit out of me.



    Something about that store makes me think im in an alien drop ship or lost in a really shitty CS map designed by martha stewart.

    See i absolutely hate big stores. So i try to minimize the trip by hooking a sales associate asking for the item i need and then panzering my way through the isles, retrieve, pay, out the door. The swedes apparently do not approve. The store is designed like a fucking maze. Every time i try to take a shortcut and dodge a few isles, i wind up in someone's dead end kitchen or living room. And i am assaulted by sales on zen lamps and fucking neon red area rugs. aRGGHAIERI(W$UR(#@$UI@#(

    I'm slaloming through isles hoping to fucking god there's a piece of cheese waiting at the end of the maze. There never is. Much like the cake, the cheese is a lie. Instead I am asked for a credit card and get slammed by reality again the second i walk out, just to notice two hours have passed.




    So now.

    Let's see how many days it takes me to assemble a stool.

    Aug. 12th, 2008

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    Ample innards

    I've had this burning itch to hack together clothes all summer and since i am too retarded to work with patterns, i figured the next easiest thing was to get a dress form and just cobble things together with bubble gum and barbed wire.

    Unfortunately dress forms range from 150 bucks to a grand and im not willing to invest that much into something ill probably get bored of in a week. That and most dress forms would be pretty damn inaccurate because my tits eat up a yard of fabric easily.
    So i was advised to make my own.

    The simplest method (i was told) was to be wrapped up in ductape and then cut it off for a perfect mold. Simple. Not. That alone took about 3h and ive got little cuts allover me from trying to remove the fucking thing with dull scissors and knives.
    Now comes the time to stuff it. Also easy. In theory.

    Since I dont want to spend money on real stuffing and i dont have patience to shred phonebooks, i decided to stuff it with old clothes and misc shit around the house.

    I HAVE A LOT OF FUCKING GUTS.



    A
    LOT


    I'm 145lb for fuck sakes. So far THAT THING has gobbled up:
  • two full length trench coats
  • two fluffy sweatshirts 8 sizes too big
  • four unlucky medium sized teddy bears
  • the cat
  • a cushion


    AAARGH. My house is fucking clean i've run out of junk... RLY WTF.




    edit: heheheheheheheeheheheeeh headless legless mini-me is still hot shit....
  • Aug. 11th, 2008

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    Christians are the spice of my life

    Walking down yonge street on a swell monday afternoon, i was handed a flyer that said the following in caps:

    YOU ARE TOO SEXY.
    and on the reverse
    JESUS CAN HELP with a smiley face and a cross





    It appears after a brief affair with cinematography in Passion of the Christ and Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter, Jesus became another washed up straight to dvd movie star. Disillusioned by the Hollywood-ian glitz and glamour, Jesus spent a couple years on anti-depressants before his trusty manager and long time friend (probably Morgan Freeman) suggested he try his hand at reality TV. And thus HEAL ME JESUS the makeover show was born.

    + =

    Dressed from head to toe in Armani robes, Jesus now ambushes random women on the streets of buzzing metropolises and offers them a one way ticket to fashion salvation, an A-list spot in the high fashion district of heaven.



    I. Am. So flattered.



    I need to repent my combat-booted short-skirted big-breasted sins.




    WHERE DO I SIGN UP MOtHERFUCKERS.

    Aug. 10th, 2008

    static

    Walking a fine line

    I woke up at 3 AM today to see the night sky lit up like a fucking christmas tree and made very little of it because I usually see strange things when I'm comatose. A few hours later I find out that a propane factory went up in flames 14 kilometers away. That. Is FAR away. So you can imagine the size of the fire.



    http://www.citynews.ca/news/news_25611.aspx

    Before I even bothered to turn on the news I googled the bloody thing and inevitably theres piles of camera phone pictures and youtube videos of cars and cats on fire. (not cats were harmed in the explosion because cats have superpowers)

    Exhibit A:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-5WQbx-dzA


    SO

    Why am i reiterating the news everyone already has access to?


    Because THIS motherfucker and the dozen others making similar comments need to have their livers dug out with a grapefruit spoon.



    THAT is the fucking reason I can't watch the news on TV and would rather google university zine articles on it 5 days after the fact. And that is the reason why sensationalist journalism has fucked every newspaper and tv network's objectivity and credibility beyond repair.
    Art can imitate life. However shitty and far fetched it may be, a movie CAN have factual roots beneath heavy embellishment. "Based on a true story". "Inspired by". Etc etc.
    Having a grain of truth at its core provides feasible grounds to COMPARE a work of fiction to reality. You use the documented encounter as the yardstick by which you measure the success of a director and his/her motion picture.

    Cloverfield was strictly a work of fiction. I havent seen the movie i just saw previews and figured I'd spare myself the headache.

    SO WHY THE FUCK ARE WE COMPARING REAL LIFE TO A WORK OF FICTION.

    Why do people look at something that's happening now, today, right here to a fucking movie??? Why do people enjoy this, why do they lap it up?!! Because guess what, the media feed have picked up on it and they shape every fucking news cast to sound LIKE an episode out of CSI or Miami Vice or the fucking Powerpuff Girls. So suddenly theres no more ACCIDENTS theyre always incidents. There's always a fucking story. There's always more to it that must be bled dry for every fucking cop show reference it has.

    Don't take me wrong, I'm not taking a piss on INVESTIGATIVE journalism. There's no such thing anymore on any channel you can tune into. There's SENSATIONAL journalism. There's kittens stuck in fucking trees that according to Nostradamus are foreshadowing the end of the fucking world.

    THIS is why when Queen street went up in flames, CP24 was reporting "rumours that a methlab had exploded". Because thats what everyone wants to fucking hear. Thats the way it always is right? The kids with green hair and their crazy clubs are always druggy pissholes. So it makes sense to the public ear that their stores would go up in chemical flames. Thats poetic justice right.
    And of course the TV network invested all of 15 seconds to apologize for the misinformation. "Fire investigation underway", and a week later it was entirely dropped from the news. Out of sight out of mind.


    The point, before i go any further off topic.


    I always figured there was a neon orange 10" wide line between contemporary truth and fiction. If you remember it, you can probably discern factual information from a shitty movie. Yet I've begun to notice trust in personal memory is slowly eroding in favour of alternative sources of recollection, books, movies, tv shows etc. When we rely on external aides-memoires to construct our reality they bloody well better be accurate, objective re-tellings or else we wind up down the rabbit hole having tea with the fucking queen.
    THAT is why it's critical that we know the difference between TRUTH and FICTION. But then some of us suddenly start drawing parallels between completely unrelated encounters like Cloverfield and a propane explosion. And the ambulance chasing/fire truck humping/tree-cat stalking media gurus figure WAIT THEY LIKE THIS SHIT? WELL FUCK US THEN, ROLL THE EMBELLISHMENT TAPE PLZ.

    And the next thing you know, we live in a world of baby terrorists, epic police raids on meth labs in children's daycare and radioactive squirrels from Mars.


    Well FINE THEN. If we're gonna pretend we live in a hollywood production WHERE THE FUCK IS JOHN MCCLAIN.

    Now there's your universal solution to propane explosions, drug busts and kittens stuck in fucking trees.






    PS. im still half a sleep, eat a dick.

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