Records left skipping, clothing all scattered.

Twin Peaks, Season 2, so far:

1. See, not only have I been watching simply to enjoy the series (as one would a fine aged wine, or a hobo kept in storage for the weekend)(I have no idea what I mean by that, either...), it's also interesting to try and pinpoint just where they went wrong, as it's no secret that the show went a little south when Lynch went off to direct his own version of The Wizard Of Oz. They're all still in fine form here, but the introduction of a character like Dick Tremayne seems to be a big indication of someone starting to phone it in.

2. The only good thing about the scene where The Kids play their love song in the living room is at the end, when Bob shows up and causes Maddie to seriously lose her shit.

3. This is Lynch putting himself in the story; just try and tell me it isn't.

4."I love you, Sherriff Truman."; and I love you, Albert Rosenfield. Woof, yourself.

5. While I won't spoil what happens in Episode 14, I will say that it one of the most brilliant pieces of televised fiction ever created, almost rivalling this series' finale. Oh, yeah: I said it. What?

Wilco, Sky Blue Sky: okay, aside from Tweedy's obvious fetish for all things Woody Guthrie (may he spend eternity in Abaddon getting pulverized into nothingness for inspiring hippies to be so...hippy-ish), I don't see why everyone's got such a hate-on for this album; in fact if you didn't see this one coming after their reinvention on A Ghost Is Born, then you weren't really paying attention, were you? If anything, it reminds me of the later-era Beatles, circa Let It Be. I dunno. I like it, and my taste is always better than yours, so there.

So.

Grindhouse.

I will admit: I had fun, mainly because I watched it with Meagan (who screams at EVERYTHING, which is why she's coming to every movie I ever go to again in my entire life), but also because, well, it was fun. I will, however, maintain that this whole 'grindhouse' idea is just another excuse for these two to make bad movies. Planet Terror was obviously the better of the two, as it never once took itself seriously, but the sad fact is that most of Rodriguez' movies turn out this way anyway. Death Proof was just inane, and it was nice to have Meagan confirm that Tarentino knows shit-all about women; he might've regained some of the overall ambience with that last car chase, but my faith in him producing anything of quality ever again is fast dwindling.

Those trailers, though? Fan-fucking-tastic.

Next week: 28 Weeks Later. Cuz zombies rock.

I gots me more Twin Peaks to watch, and there are only so many hours in the day, so you can stop bothering me now. Here's Les Savy Fav, just because they're on my headphones now:

Twin Peaks, Season 2, Epsiode 1 (or 8, if you wanna get technical, but whatever...)

So. I think to myself, "Hey, I've got this Dvd set of a TV show I loved when it was actually on, oh, almost twenty friggin' years ago, maybe I should start watching it, see how it holds up!"

Halfway in: okay, it's still good, but some of that noir-ish dialogue in a 'modern' setting falls really flat, and Dana Ashbrook is really over the fucking top. Dude. All your Dad said was that he had a dream where he hugged you. Don't get all weepy.

But: Dale Cooper tips his waiter while bleeding from a gunshot wound in his gut. The man is seriously the shit. Plus: I heart Albert Rosenfield.

And then we come to this scene:

...oh. Oh, that's right. Yeah, um, now I remember why I loved this show.

Top Marks For Not Trying.

Okay, the Arctic Monkeys don't bore me anymore. Favourite Worst Nightmare is like Blur meets The Buzzcocks. It's not a great album by any means, as it falls apart halfway through the discm, but the first four songs will knock you out, punk. Plus, I'm probably one of four people in the entire world who'll get the Duran Duran reference on 'Teddy Picker'. Enjoy:


Links for the day, for I am tired in the head and have no more cleverness:

1. "Guatemala is a good place to commit a murder, because you will almost certainly get away with it."

2. "Will Fuck For Shoes."
(Edit: apparently people are having problems linking to this site; basically, it's full of really pretty shirts that have very bad things nicely embroidered on them, like "I Like It Rough", "WFFS", that sorta thing. Just in time for Mother's Day.)

That's all. My allergies are being jerks again. Go away before I sneeze on you.

I have a One Year Pass to the French Maid. I'm a little concerned that something like this has fallen into my posession. In fact, I'm quite terrified.

Anyway: gotta make this quick, as I woke up late, laundry needs to be done, cats need to be punched.

1. Brain-sculpting, is, like, my favourite new term.

2. Now, this is how you have a stand-off with the police...

3. "If the late former President Gerald Ford could find it in his heart to pardon the late former President Richard Nixon after his mistake(s), we undeniably support Paris Hilton being pardoned for her honest mistake."
(Edit: I only posted this because of the sheer lunacy of such a petition; it's not as though I think Ms. Hilton should be celebrated in any way, unless she was tied to stake and set on fire, but even then we'd be paying too much attention to her...)

(Yes, I stole all three of those from Warren Ellis' site. What?)

4. Dude. He committed suicide by CHOPPING OFF HIS OWN HEAD. With a CHAINSAW. Wow. I am...I am so in awe, even if it is abominable.

5. No arms, one leg, stole a car, kicked a state trooper, headbutted his wife. It's like an after-school special on meth.

6. I want George Bush to put out an album of John Lennon songs. Open Source Cinema rocks me like a hurricane.

7. Did anyone actually ask Bruce Willis about his thoughts on conspiracy theories, or did he just feel like, y'know, throwing it out there?

I must go shower now, for I stink. It's really that simple.

Muddy With Twigs And Branches

1. I don't know if this is something that really inspires pride in my fellow human beings; if anything, it causes me to loathe you all even more, as you all obviously spend too much time drooling over mediocre karaoke singers and horribly unfunny fratboys.

2. I have the new Bjork. One song in, and it's already incredible. It also goes along way to proving what I've always maintained about Timbaland: brilliant as a producer, nothing but dead weight when he's in the spotlight.

I also have the new Dinosaur Jr.; as much as I'm sure I'll like it, I think I'm only buying it out of habit. We'll see. (Holy Toledo! J Mascis got OLD!)

3. Why hasn't the new Battles album come out yet? Wasn't it supposed to be available in, like, December? I know more than half of the people who work at all the cool record stores, and I demand satisfaction, goddamn it. This is the kind of brilliance we're being deprived of:



...I know: it hurts to have to wait. Fuckers.

4. I swear to god this wasn't me. I ain't got nothing against city hall, and my preferred form of civic protest is to just not pay my taxes for multiple years on end. Plus, I once shot an eagle with a pellet gun when I was kid, and I still feel kinda bad about it...

5. ...and you wonder why I have such a dismal view of humanity.

6. Sarah Ford: I want a 3-piece meal from Chicken On The Way, and I want you to bring it to Beano, and I want it tonight, or the next time I see you, I'm putting peanut butter in your hair.

Anyway: since no one wants to go see Spiderman 3 with me tonight (Dan Roy calls it 'the worst movie ever', but then Dan plays with fireworks for a living...), I'm gonna go play basketball by myself and then help out at work, because I have no life of my own. Maybe that weird asian kid who hangs out at the church will be my friend for a few hours, at least...(getcher minds outta the gutter; he just likes to shoot hoops, that's all)...

We've got rules and maps and guns in our backs.

I've lately taken to assigning team names to my co-workers and I during any given shift; Steph & I were 'Team Amazing', Ocean & I were 'Team Awesome', Andy & I were 'Team Rock-On!!!', etc.

Rachel and I are 'Team Dum'. We were 'Team DURRR!!!' at first, simply because we both spent the majority of our shift together making retard noises (she has an advantage, as she herds them for a living...), but tonight proved that the new name is a tad more applicable, as it seems the two of us cannot get through a shift without horribly mutilating ourselves. Take this exchange, for example:

"Rachel, did you just cut yourself on that broken glass you were washing?"
"...yes."
"Do you need a band-aid?"
"...yes."

At which point I pretended that I knew what I was doing and tried wrapping band-aids that had more in common with limp pasta noodles than anything else around her spurting wounds. I think I managed to cover at least one of them; nor can I feel superior, as I did the same thing to myself yesterday, resulting in Kimmy having to play nurse-maid while I paled at the sight of my own blood, and then I ripped open my pinkie finger tonight while trying to change the paper towels in the bathroom.

That's what I get for working at a place where the common practice is to open the towel dispenser with a paper clip. I will say nothing of a certain someone's attempt to pour garbage from the LARGE trashcan into the SMALLER one, because apparently I am a BAD COMMUNICATOR.

Right.

I swear to god, we are both imbeciles. I now have only four working fingers, and my work week just began. Hope you like Life Brand Band-aid fibres in your non-fat half-caf lactose-free machiatto with no foam and a dash of cinammon, jerkwads.

While I'm ranting: if you plan on coming to Beano, please take a moment to read our menu before ordering. Chances are good that it's quite different from the one at Starbucks, or at Second Cup, or (god forbid) Tim Hortons. DO NOT assume that we all make the same drinks; in fact, if you even utter the phrase "...they have it at Starbucks...", there's an even better chance that the foam in your drink will not be made from milk. Hell, you'd be lucky to be leaving without one of us throwing something at you.

Also: please don't ask me to suggest something for you. I'm here to serve you your coffee, not make decisions for you. If you put me in this position, I will serve your drink in a sippy-cup and make you wear a bib, you halfwit.

Please don't ever tell me that you're feeling 'frothy'. That's just something I don't want to hear from a grown-up.

One last bitch: don't come in at the end of the night and ask for the fresh baking, when the food we have at the front is perfectly fine. You know perfectly well that we bake later on in the evening so that we'll have it ready for the following morning; that's why you've timed your little passive-aggressive visit to our establishment to occur at this precise moment. The food we have ready for you is probably only a few hours old, and when we're talking cookies and brownies and shit like that, that's plenny fine. Plus: you may come in every night, but that doesn't make you a preferred customer. Familiarity breeds contempt, assface. Your paltry $1.25 purchase does little to sway me; I have no problem being That Guy, the one who lies to you about having no fresh baking while plates of it sit in plain view behind the counter. Suck it.

...gee, you'd think I hated my job or something.

Actually, despite all this, work has been great lately. Who am I kidding? Work has yet to really suck at Beano. This is mainly because my co-workers tend to be super-awesome-fantastic, and I'm not just saying that because most of them can read this (but you are: I'd give each of you a puppy made out of ice cream, were I able...), but it also has to do with the fact that I don't actually have to wake up until 3:00 in the afternoon in order to get to work on time.

Which is why I'm posting this at 4:00 in the morning: 'cuz I'm allowed, bitches.

Hey, this new Feist is actually really good. Yes, I know Let It Die was some sort of tribute to French Pop Genius Serge Gainsbourg (I think that's his name; I always get confused when it comes to the French, but then again, I'm Canadian...), but fuck me silly, did that the album ever put me to sleep. Seriously, the thing could've been used as anesthetic during surgery...The Reminder, though? Aces.

And this new Nine Inch Nails? I'm sorry, Mr. Reznor, but after three good songs, it just fucks off into pointless, insipid noise. I don't care if it's your new big concept piece about how we live in a fascist state that disguises itself as a free society (hey, there's a new one one...); it's goddamned boring. At the very least, I could always expect some sexy hook or delicious groove to accompany your usual angst-ridden, fishnet-drenched bitching; now that you've actually got something to say, your music seems to have gone to shit.

Oh, but look, the CD's heat-sensitive, so it changes colour when you play it! That makes up for EVERYTHING!

Ahem...STAR WARS NERD POSES NUDE TO RAISE MONEY FOR...well...something. I think. Actually, he's only half nude, really...and to be honest, I wanted to make fun of him, but the more I think about it, the more respect I have for a guy who's able to poke fun at himself and make some money at the same time. Hell, I could learn something from him...

...okay, now I'm depressed.

I'm gonna go play video games now, because Holland won't liberate itself, y'know.

Yes, Margaret, cowboys have mustaches. It's the LAW.

(It's an inside joke. Anyway:)

I am not going to talk about Facebook because no one cares. It's just another way for me to exchange insults with people. Of course, I take full advantage of it.

I will say this: it's weird to 'connect' with people I haven't spoken to for over a decade or more. It's like all my friends, past and present, are getting together to talk about me or something...

I'm not paranoid AT ALL.

It's almost been a week since I left Office Hell, and this is my first day off, so I'm not sure how I feel. Certainly, it's good to be out of the cubicle (which was kinda comforting in a 'I get to build a fort at work' sorta way), but my head still feels like paste. It'll take a few days of masturbation and video games before I start to feel normal again.

(Mom, don't read that part.)

Stuff:

1. I don't know which part bothers me more: the guy dressing up as a superhero, or the fact that this only appears on a website for golfers.

2. I shouldn't be surprised that I found this through Warren Ellis' site, but: Quantum tantra? Huh.

NBA stuff:

1. Sure, they almost blew a 20-pt lead, but people have to remember that the Raptors are playing the Nets, here; this is Jason Kidd and Vince Carter, and they're gonna stomp you any chance they get.

2. Of course Iverson's not playing up to his potential; whaddya expect's gonna happen when you ditch him off to a brand new team just before the playoffs? I'm not hoping for miracles in tonight's game, but at least the A.I.'s man enough to accept responsibilty for his game.

3. I hate Mark Cuban. I just do.

NHL stuff:

I got nuthin'; I've missed every game since the Flames got knocked out, simply because of work, so I'm a little disconnected, despite having Nelson show up at Beano every time a goal's scored. I just don't see anyone beating Buffalo this year, and at this point, it's all about watching Derek's whiny Canucks choke, and soon. (Don't worry, Derek, it'll happen...)

Spiderman 3 in 3 days. Hell, yes, I'm excited.

Pelican, 'City Of Echoes', June 05. If you're not drooling over this release then you are WRONG. End of story. Also: y'all should be listening to Big Business, too, or these guys will come to your house and rip your ears off.

Apparently William Gibson's 'Spook Country' has been pushed back until Fall, which is okay, as it'll give me a chance to read some of the other hundred books my addiction has forced me to acquire over the last six months.

If you're not watching The Venture Brothers, then I cannot help you.

Wow. It's 2:30, I stink, and I'm still wearing sweatpants. I better go put some clothes on before I start buying lotto tickets and thinking that wrestling is real.



Oh, look, it's Modest Mouse again! How'd that happen?