Tweak of the Week
Let this photo of a Kute Azn’s dilated pupils and vacant smile be your lesson to check if someone’s a sure thing before dumping your last bit of G in their G&T.
Tales from Public Transit
A mist of hard booze filled the bus as Wayne sat down amongst us in the back. He had a crazy smile, long hair and wiry grey handlebars sprouting from the corners of his mouth. He wanted to make friends and talk to everyone about art and life. He searched the back of the bus for human contact, anyone who would listen to his stories.
The young men sitting around him were visibly embarrassed to acknowledge his presence. Oh no, please don’t talk to me old man, I don’t want to be associated with some crazy downtown east side native cliche, they thought. Some of them snickered and gave eachother knowing looks.
Wayne struck up a one way conversation with a young man sitting near me, who never looked him in his glazed over eyes and gave only one word answers. I turned off my iPod to listen and watch the interaction. I couldn’t help but laugh at how uncomfortable the young man was. I could almost hear him saying over and over to himself, please make it stop! Oh what these people must think of me! This man is not my friend!
Dude, he just wants to tell you about when he used to draw as a child, and he started with mouths and then noses and then eyes and when he had fully learned each one, he put them all together and it was a masterpiece. What kind of artist are you? I mean, aside from putting together your day-glo nu-rave skater identity crisis outfits?
I laughed. Wayne noticed me smiling, and told me I was gorgeous. I thanked him. He went on talking to the young man, stopping once in a while to flash his crazy smile full of big teeth. Then he came and sat beside me. Everyone immediately felt sorry for me, I could tell. But I didn’t mind.
He asked me my name. Then showed me a similar name tattooed on his hand.
“This was my sweetheart. She didn’t drink. She would try to help me and protect me when I was drinking. One night when we were at a party in North Van, I got in a fight. She tried to break it up and got stabbed in the heart. Her parents wouldn’t let me come to her funeral. So I stood far away on the hill and kissed her goodbye. I’ll see her again one day.”
Then he got up to get off the bus and waved goodbye to me through the window.
Amy Goodman
The best way to start the day is with a wank, a tea (with milk), a smoke, and a quickly streamed firefox viewing of “Democracy Now”. Besides being a magically left news report, this webcast features one of the most amazing women of our time. Amy Goodman does something for me. I am not sure if it’s her voice, or her no nonsense hair cut. I can just imagine her going into Super Cuts and saying “Just a trim please! Side part. Highlights? No thank you, I’ll just touch up this mouse-brown. AH! Keep that blush away from me!”
Bless you Amy Goodman and your zero feminity. Bless you.
90210ld
So the new 90210 is tonight. It would be amazing if they did it like it was still set in the 90s. I wonder if Ahhhndrea will be on it. She must be like at least 60 now since she was like 35 when she was playing that nerdy teenaged newspaper chick. She was almost as annoying as Tori Spelling’s alien boob job.
Emily Valentine was by far my fav though.
I get this uncontrollable urge, to want to go home
My boyfriend introduced me to this magical movie. I recommend that you watch it, it will make you cry like a little bitch.
It documents Sigur Rós returning to Iceland after being away on tour, and playing a series of free unannounced shows in the remote villages of their home. The result is a breathtakingly beautiful account of the bands love for their country, and their country’s overwhelming adoration for them. You don’t have to be familiar with their music to appreciate the eery beauty of this movie.
Link: Heima
(This post has been brought to you by Ali wanting to say “My boyfriend,” and taco pizza)
Important Question
Ladies, would you, or would you not, let the dude on the right throw it in you several times?
A Throwback from 2007
Adbusters totally jacked my shit!
There was a time when I was totally mystified by them… Who are these people who aren’t carbon copies of the Granville strip chad? Where are their striped shirts, collars popped? Where are the drunken, suddenly bi-curious cokesluts with frilly minis (2008 UPDATE – that top/dress from Aritzia) so short you can read their lips? I had stumbled upon a sea of carelessly flailing thriftstore junkies with frizzy hair! WTF?
It was almost as though they set out each night to look as unattractive as possible. Jesus beards. Putrid xmas sweaters (2008 UPDATE – oversized, flannel plaid shirts). Tapered jeans hugging their hideously flaccid, pear shaped bodies. Did they even bathe?! They reeked of a coolness that just hadn’t been paralleled in my many years in the Vancouver scene. Urine. Vomit. The stench was so refreshing, I just had to have more. They just did not give a fuck. And the pictures! Oh how I wanted to be in them! So carefree! Fun! Party! All! The! Time! The best music i’d heard in a while (2008 UPDATE – the rave rap has gotten a tad stale now).
We schemed that we would infiltrate this underground society. Then I became busy with my career and forgot the plan, but he kept going. Drawn deep into the endless nights of drunken, coke infested partying that only people who hated life could really get into. I guess nasal drip and vomiting are totally manageable in between ringing through a metallic body suit or dressing a mannequin on Granville while dreaming of a real fashion design career. I would hate life too.
I slowly came back to my friend, masquerading with him during some of his adventures, quietly observing and realizing that it actually takes a lot of effort to ‘not care’ or ‘be different’. There is one rule about ‘the scene’: you must never talk about ‘the scene’ to civilians, or the evil chads will descend and ruin everything! Can’t blame ‘em, really. They do ruin everything. Fuckin’ bridge-and-tunneling Granville chads.
Well guess what? There are douchebags in every scene. Whether it be the chad in the striped shirt chugging vodka redbulls and doing the white boy finger point to the latest Akon infection in a massive warehouse club on the strip (2008 UPDATE – sadly, still applicable), or the 20 year old fashion student with her beer gut stuffed into skinny jeans, chugging a Kokanee (2008 UPDATE – Pabst Blue Ribbon) and dancing around like she just discovered the Pet Shop Boys and she ‘like omg totally loves the 80s’ (2008 UPDATE – dirty south hip hop/booty bass) and bangs anything with a teenstache and monogrammed doorag around his neck (2008 UPDATE – sparse chest hair struggling to escape a deep v).
It’s too late for my friend, but I hope to shine the light into this toilet bowl of broken dreams and maybe save someone else (2008 UPDATE – many have been lost).
single tear.
So You All Think Obama is Totally AWSM Right?
But how many of you actually know what his platform is? This post is not meant to advocate for any particular candidate, just to ask probably the most important question to you regarding who a lot of you are supporting.
Were you mesmerized by Scarjo’s tatas and the infectious ballad in the Yes We Can video?
Do you think it would be cool if America had a black president?
He’s really good at plucking at those heartstrings with his speeches.
I’m not saying I don’t like him, I’m just advocating the devil here by saying that if I really think about it, I don’t know much about this guy at all.
Thank goodness I’m not voting.
To hear what a disgustingly smart analyst says about the matter click here.
Tweak of the Week
This is the first edition of a weekly, then monthly, then never, installment (that’s how they usually go) of our selection of the best party pics where people look like they are really, really, ridiculously fucked up.
This young, supple, unsuspecting subject has clearly had too many redbulls.
Missing from this pic is when she later grabbed a coffee to fuel her horrific caffeine addiction to go witness some innocent young folks having a little hootenany in the woods at Stanley Park. They should never have let this trouble maker into their sweet little love fest!
Photo by Meg Bourne for halfalive.ca
azn olympic fall out vs. zombie prostitutes
so those azn’s are getting some bad press over there. fake fire works, fake little girls, fake 16 year old gymnasts, fake fake fake. i haven’t watched, i’m not so in to sports. but i am pretty stoked for them to come here and tear this city to shreds. bet those foreign journalists wont be so upset about a lip syncing kindergardener when they see a fleet full of naked zombie prostitutes with hypodermic needles in their eyes being driven out of sight.
the chinese government gave the earth quake survivors tv’s to watch the games in their tents. what’s cheaper, us giving the 2000+ homeless people smack, or flat screens? fuck this. i’m watching with them. i bet there’ll be less traffic where ever they are hidden.