i am hot. what do we dooo?

killing the hero.

http://www.unsworn.org/telemegaphone/



I am TOTALLY phoning it and saying something utterly retarded, like "Luke, I am your Father."
Or making hot sex noises.

Ps. Oh good, Hunter S. Thompson is going to become the next Che Guevara.
Yeah, because HST's dying wish was to have his fucking face plastered on some metrosexual hipster douchebag's chest, and becoming stained with double latte chai tea non-fat frappuchino fuckspresso.

http://www.threadpit.com/store/product.php?productid=173&face=hunter_CA

Kill yourself!

sewing the seeds of hate.

SEWING ZIPPERS INTO GARMENTS SUCKS ASS!!!


I just made a red mini-skirt to wear with my geisha kimono for work this week, and it was the first time I ever made something that had a zipper... and even though I wrassled with that stupid thing for like half an hour and didn't think it would pull through, I TRIUMPHED over that zipper bitch!

FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT EVERY MOMENT! EVERY MINUTE, EVERY DAYYYYY-YYYYY!


Ah my sewing machine. She's 1000 years old, weighs 1000 pounds, and likes to give me shit from time to time, but I love that fat bitch.

the loliest lol that ever did lol.

CLICK!



Holy god.
Annnnnnd I'm spent.



Why is it that everything I find the funniest in this whole wide world has to do with Phil Collins?
Case in point, part two: Ju-ju, ju-ju, ju-ju, ju-ju j-j-juuu!


Oh what the hell, while we're on the subject of awesomeness, watch this, too! Hey Donkey, what's goin' on? You're a donkey. I like that. You eat apples, right? I produce Entourage.

teenage rampage.

I'm fucking bored and everyone sucks! Boo to your moms.


It's almost 3 am and I am still awake writing nonsense. I guess it's time to drag my stupid ass to bed. Things feel boring and "on pause" lately. Why?
I want to play music and I'm sick of not doing it. Maybe now that Dave and I have a room basically dedicated to making music, I will actually start to whip up some tunes.

Let's party or something. It's supposed to be Rocktober and so far it feels more like Not-tober.


Go jump in front of a train!

total sonique coma.

Albums I'm currently obsessing over:

Sex Positions - Self titled (Deathwish)
VMW - VMW (Coalition)
Rilo Kiley - The Execution of All Things (Saddle Creek)
Rilo Kiley - More Adventurous (Brute/Beaute)
Big Black - The Hammer Party (Touch & Go)
Imperial Teen - The Hair, The TV, the Baby and the Band (Merge)
Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary (Sub Pop)
Adolescents - Self titled (Frontier)
Les Georges Leningrad - Sangue Puro (Dare to Care)
M.I.A. - Kala (XL/Interscope)
Be Your Own Pet - Get Awkward (Universal/Ecstatic Peace)
The Sonics - Boom! (Norton)
The Sonics - The Savage Young Sonics (Norton)
Boys Noize - Oi Oi Oi (Last Gang)
Doomriders - Black Thunder (Deathwish)
Flowers in the Attic - Flowers in the Attic (Reptilian)
Imperial Leather - Something out of Nothing (Profane Existence)
Ladytron - Velocifero (Nettwerk)
Sisters of Mercy - Some Girls Wander By Mistake (Wea International)
Witch Hunt - Blood-red States (Profane Existence)
Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Blank Generation (Warner)
Unsane - Scattered, Smothered and Covered (Relapse/Ronald Reagan)
Wire - Chairs Missing (Harvest)



And some timeless faves that I'm always crushing on at any given moment, such as right now:

Sweet - Sweet Fanny Adams (RCA)
Tom Waits - Rain Dogs (Universal Music Group)
The Velvet Underground - Loaded (Atlantic/Wea)

robots are invading my house.

Dave and I are getting a drum machine tomorrow! YESSSSS!!!


Fuck yeah dudes, Charlie Sheen is on a train to Awesometown now.
Stay tuned, Pat Boone. Riggity-rowwww.

Ps. I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to go to JOURNEY/CHEAP TRICK/HEART.................. at the Molson Amphitheater, but decent tickets are like $150 and up! AUGGGGHHHHHH ("Cathy" styles). IT IS SO WORTH IT. But I just have such a hard time justifying spending that much money on concert tickets unless it's for a Faith No More/Ramones mega-back-from-the-dead super show... :(

BOO.

speed queen.

MY SUMMERTIME BIKE RIDING JAMS ARE "HIGHWAY STAR" AND "SPEED KING" BY DEEP PURPLE. SERIOUSLY.
TRY RIDING YOUR BIKE ALL FAST AND SWERVY AND CAREFREE TO THESE SONGS AND SEE HOW FUCKING AWESOME YOU IMMEDIATELY BECOME.




You're welcome.

Ps. Deep Purple ftw.

enuff z-nuff.

People of the world: please stop describing experiences as "organic".

"The process of creating our new album was totally organic..."
"It was very organic, the way I came to that realization."
"Everything about the whole experience was very organic."
"I didn't think there was anything wrong with jacking off onto a dog's back; it happened very organically."

STOP. I'm going to throw something that I think is pretty "organic" at your face if I hear this stupid fucking word one more time.

best wishes.

Well kids, let's all start the weekend and shake off the work week.

I'm half-naked, totally liquored up on strawberry vodka, and BELTING out "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" by Journey at the top of my lungs over and over and over SO loud that I'm sure my neighbours are muttering death threats and cursing the shit out of me, and just whipping my hair around in care-free hair-a-copters.


Ah. Right now feels pretty good. Steve Perry and strawberry vodka flush all my worries down the drain.

Get off the tracks, my Saturday night party train is gaining speed...


Have loads of fun,
Love,
Me and Steve Perry

get frisky on a thursday night.

Hey all you kittens and alley cats... tune into thisisdeadair.tv tonight at 9pm PST/12 am EST for a special edition of Lesa May's This is Dead Air internet tv sexstravaganza with interviewee/co-host, yours truly, the Rock'n'Roll Nurse. That's right, the 'Nurse is comin' back out in full force to chat about all those things you only talk about under your covers and over your pillows, with California's own sexy queen of sass and tease, Lesa May.

Watch, call in, get frisky, have a blast!

-L

dream on.

I had a dream that I was watching Nick Cave play at this small club, and the area he was playing in was only a small corner of the club... most of the people didn't seem to know who he was. I was able to walk right up to him during his set and just stand like 3 feet away with no problems. It was just Nick Cave though, no band, and he was only playing the drums to a recorded track. It was a weird way to see Nick Cave, but hey, he still looks sexy in my dreams!

Oh also there was some weird girl who I knew in my dream and she kept acting all touchy and excited and wouldn't stop bugging me. I had to sternly tell her off but it made me feel really bad because she seemed like a sensitive person.

I woke up this morning to some kids talking (and screaming) outside my window about finding some dead animal and they weren't sure what to do with it. It was cute, I wish I had a videocamera. The whole conversation/dilemma totally reminded me of a movie from the 80s, like a Stand By Me or something along those lines. I never found out what the animal was though. Bird? Raccoon? Wildebeast? I guess I'll never know. (Unless I go downstairs and see for myself)


Well folks, I'm off to Victoria Hospital for some anti-biotics and a truckload o' percs! Peace!

printemps.

Aw yeee, it's about time to bust out some sweet springtime jams! Which means Extreme's "Pornograffiti" and Faith No More's "Introduce Yourself" albums. Yeah boyee! Both remind me of driving around Hamilton with Jen, with the windows down and yelling lyrics, and both make me grin maniacally because of their hilarious lyrics and insane riff-tastic bombastic-ness!

Yesterday Dave and I went on our first "Hell on Wheelz" date (me on my bike, he on his skateboard) and we went all the way through the bike trail downtown and into Harris park. We stopped and gawked at some ducks, and thought about jumping into the waterfall, deciding that maybe it wasn't such a good idea. We were out rolling around for a good two hours. I can't wait to do more of that all summer long. HELL ON WHEELZ. Also coming to a bike path/nature spot near you: Picnic on Wheelz.

Good weather = everyone is in a great mood, including me. I don't let much get me down anymore. The recipe for this peaceful, energetic, sweetass cocktail is: giving up worrying about things I can't control + sunshine + being outside + above mentioned springtime jams + St. John's Wort in the morning + vitamins + exercise + mucho face time with my kitten + laughter (corny but true) + goofing off with Dave + patio season = me haaappy.


Ps. HAH! They just played Black Flag on Futurama (although it was a cover). Awesome! :)

want to jump innnn!

geezers

la-dee-fucking-da.

Fuck you, winter!
I have a new bike and I'm gonna ride it, rain or shine. Jerks.

Ps. its name is Pepper.


Also! New Kills record, Clinic and Electric Six. Yeah yeahhh.

the dead will walk the earth.

So, you know that book I've been reading? "Stiff"? About the cadavers and such? It really got me thinking today. I mean, it's the kind of book that always has you thinking because it touches so many subjects that are definitely controversial, but today while I was reading, some things that I read made me go "hmmm". The chapter I am currently reading is discussing the use of cadavers (dedicated to post-mortem science research) for testing bullets. Basically, certain institutions want to use real human cadavers to shoot in the leg, stomach, chest, face, to determine different facets of their bullet-making: making bullets that kill on impact, making bullets that slow someone down but that aren't likely to kill them, making bullets that don't actually pierce skin (rubber bullets for riot police, etc.), whatever whatever, amen.

Anyways, apparently these types of institutions have a hard time getting funding and there is a lot of moral and ethical debate floating around over the use of human cadavers for such things. I guess maybe because, for instance, people who are against war or oppose guns and whatnot might not be so comfortable knowing that their deceased loved one is being shot in the face, the dummy for bullet testing and therefore perpetuating, indirectly, guns. At least that's what I got from the whole thing.

And what all of this made me think about, among other parts of the book, if not just the subject of the whole book itself, is that... I'm starting to believe that once we die, we leave our bodies behind and the bodies we once occupied were never really ours to begin with. Your body is just a vessel. When you die, you're just leaving behind a machine of which you were once the operato (in some people's cases, a smooooth operator).
I had never given all that much thought to this theory before today. I'm not a religious person but I am definitely spiritual, and I firmly believe in souls. I don't necessarily believe in a heaven or a hell but I know there is more on earth than just what we can see with our naked eyes. We share the earth with billions of souls, and my newfound realization kind of brings up the question of reincarnation. If our bodies are just hosts, does that mean that once our soul moves on, it then finds a new live host? Whoa nelly! I never know what to think about all of that stuff. My point is that I am already a card-carrying future organ donor. I have always supported donating my body to science. But now I feel even more confident in that decision. I don't want my rotting corpse just wasting away in a coffin. And I don't particularily want to be creamated because I know exactly how creamation is done, and what happens to your body in the process... and it's actually pretty disturbing. It almost seems selfish not to donate our bodies to science once we're done with them. The dead are not just dead. Once we're dead we can still contribute. Our bodies can provide lives, can provide hope, can provide scientists with facts and research, can help to determine exactly why we ended up dead (an example is the chapter that discusses airplane crashes and the fact that the bodies in the wreckage are pretty much the key factor in helping to determine what went wrong).

I don't really have any kind of catchy, conclusive end-thought here. I'm just saying that a) I'm definitely okay with someone shooting bullets into my face when I'm dead if it will help save lives, b) I'm becoming morbidly fascinated with this stuff.

The end!

Ps. When you ride an elevator, do you ever pretend that it's a time machine?
Try it. It's fun.

excerpts.

An excerpt from "The Smart Girl's Guide To Porn" that I really loved:

(on the subject of the question "Does porn degrade women?)

"Those who believe in porn's alleged degradation of women are making a lot of assumptions about the people in porn, specifically the women, and about the people viewing the imagery.

* The woman is ashamed of what she is doing -- or shoulde be.
* She isn't enjoying it, or women as a class can't and don't enjoy certain types of sex.
* She is sexually receptive and therefore less than human.
* The viewer is always male.
* The actress doesn't know the effect her image has -- that porn leads to real-life acts of rape, child abuse and degradation.
* Open sexual desire is shameful for all participants, on- and off-screen.

How can anyone possibly know how every viewer or participant feels, or sees him or herself as? The answer is that no one can. Each individual must be allowed to decide what is healthy and okay for him or her -- no one else can decide that for you, or for another person."


While I don't really like the way she concluded her thought, I love that she calls out the people who think of porn as degrading and debunks the myth.



***



And a couple of passages from "Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers":

"... anatomists came to occupy the same terrain, in the public's mind, as executioners. Worse, even, for dissection was though of, literally, as a punishment worse than death. Indeed, that -- not the support and assistance of anatomists -- was the authorities' main intent in making the bodies available for dissection. With so many relatively minor offenses punishable by death, the legal bodies felt the need to tack on added horrors as deterrents against weighter crimes. If you stole a pig, you were hung [sic -- should actually be "hanged"]. If you killed a man, you were hanged and then dissected. (In the freshly minted United States of America, the punishable-by-dissection catergory was extended to include duelists, the death sentence clearly not posing much of a deterrent to the type of fellow who agrees to settle his differences by the dueling pistol.)
Double sentencing wasn't a new idea, but rather the latest variation on a theme. Before that, a murderer might be hanged and then drawn and quartered, wherein horses were tied to his limbs and spurred off in four directions, the resultant "quarters" being impaled on spikes and publicly displayed, as a colorful reminder to the citizenry of the ill-advisedness of crime. Dissection as a sentencing option for murderers was mandated, in 1752 Britain, as an alternative to postmortem gibbeting. Gibbeting -- though it hits the ear like a word for happy playground chatter or perhaps, at worst, the cleaning of small game birds -- is in fact a ghastly verb. To gibbet is to dip a corpse in tar and suspend it in a flat iron cage (the gibbet) in plain view of townsfolk while it rots and gets pecked apart by crows. A stroll through the square must have been a whole different plate of tamales back then."



"We are biology. We are reminded of this at the beginning and the end, at birth and at death. In between, we do what we can to forget."

criminal justice.

Serj Tankian has committed murder, and the victim's name is MUSIC!

As punishment for his crimes, I sentence Serj Tankian to stop making music for the REST OF HIS LIFE. Or maybe just mine. As long as I don't have to hear another goddamn note from that guy ever again.

OW MY EARS ARE BLEEDING AND IT'S NOT THE GOOD KIND.
I would honestly rather have some slowly pull my eyeballs out with a rusty ice cream scoop than listen to System of a Down, Serj Tankian's solo crap, or anything else he ever chooses to do ever again.

The only thing I have ever heard him do that sounded halfway decent was a cover of "Holiday in Cambodia" by the Dead Kennedys, and that's because there is no one else on the planet who has a voice annoying enough to replicate Jello Biafra's voice (but god I love Jello! props!).

You may resume your daily routine.

L