Run to the hills.

I fucking hate Perez Hilton. If I’m going to kill time reading about people I don’t care about, then I at least want to read something with a little creative flair, you know, a little personality a la Michael K/Todd/Jesus Martinez/anyone who passed grade 9 english. Chronicling the lives of celebrities is not serious business, so it just pisses me off when people like Perez approach it with major ego and zero sense of humor. I want my bloggers to use celebrities as pre-made characters for a semi-fictional novel (I guess I’m an advocate of the Augusten Burroughs school of Journalism?), since its not like anyone can approach detailing their lives with any accuracy to begin with.

However, I check Perez like 90 times a day because for whatever reason, he always reports on shitty Canadian celebrity gossip that NO ONE else on the internet (besides that metrosexual fucktard Zack Taylor) ever covers.

Which is where I just got MY FAVOURITE TIDBIT EVER.

Deryck Whibley + Hanna Beth = ♥

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Please say there’s someone else out there who spent way too much time on the internet at sixteen that knows Hanna Beth. You know, the slightly more coherent, slightly less dedicated Audrey Kitching.I’m not exactly sure why this is so funny to me besides the fact its like two bizarre worlds colliding. Neither of them should have existed past 2006. They breached the space time continuum. Her illegitimate x. diet coke x. myspace x. sidekick x. gloomy bear fame, and his 2002 number band (+ time bonus from a celebrity marriage) fame have potentially merged.

Bonsoir

Man, fuck Nuit Blanche. It failed me twice, so last night I gleefully abstained. Kicked off the night by drinking flat diet coke in my living room and watching the Leafs get fucked up the ass by the Caps. I guess I didn’t fully meet my goal of avoiding shitty video installations etc. because we watched the CN Tower fail to fully sync up with CIUT from our deck. Kind of a sick idea, using those much bemoaned LED lights as a visualizer, and I support any (much needed) advertising that non-engineering shit at U of T gets, but that exhibit did not last all night by any stretch.

After getting bored with the lights and the Leafs loosing we all went to Futures because it would ensure a smooth transition between eating our faces off and getting drunk, since we would only have to move 15 feet to get to Lab for $3 tequila night. Ended up making a detour to this Leafs swag van they had set up outside the Brunny where Geoff stole me a flag. While carrying it into Lab I got shit from the bouncer for having a Leafs flag but an American ID? Because that’s somehow my fault? No idea. Drank a bunch of sangria, listened to them play the Ghostbusters theme song and covers of “My Boyfriend’s Back,” then went home and made peanut butter toast and watched the Leafs loose a second time during the replay.

I stand by my choices. I’d rather listen to shitty music and watch the Leafs loose multiple times than go to Nuit Blanche, as long as there is free shit and decent food involved.

Cry Baby

Obama calling Kanye West a jackass is like the real life equivalent of Radiohead calling Scott Tenorman “the most uncool kid they’ve ever met.”

The 5 Rules of Being Adrian

So Edgefest was Saturday. I didn’t take any pictures of the bands because by the time Alexisonfire came on the crowd was so packed I couldn’t move let alone pull my camera out of the bottom of my back pack. You can look at a picture of my muddy shoes though.

We rolled in just as The Stills were finishing their set on the second stage. I like The Stills but frankly they haven’t put out an album I’ve been interested in since Logic Will Break Your Heart. Without Feathers just really wasn’t my thing, and Oceans Will Rise is no different. They just strike me as a kind of bland, prototypical, indie-rock band. Like a cuter Canadian Coldplay with more cred since they wear plaid and are on Arts & Crafts. If they come on the radio I’m certainly not going to turn it off, I might even bob my head around a bit, but there’s no way I’m going to go “Yeah! The fucking Stills!” or even know what the song is. I mean COME ON, can you tell the difference between “Being Here” and “I’m With You,” because I sure as hell can’t.

The Ongoing History of New Shoes

Unemployment’s proving interesting. I’ve pretty much given up all hope of finding a job. I’m going to volunteer at CIUT more because its good experience and I like it there but thats only 2 hours a day, leaving me a fuckload of time to do jack shit. I’m really trying to be productive because I’m like a shark, you know, how they have to keep swimming or they die. As long as I keep doing shit I won’t go insane, but if I get lazy and start going on Myspace 12 hours a day, I’m going to be in an inescapable internet-related stupor for the rest of the summer.

Basically I need to keep as far away from this computer as possible.

I am limited in my methods of defense. I have no money so I can’t go shopping, we don’t have a kitchen so I can’t cook, I left my knitting needles at home… mostly I’ve been reading a shitload and watching a lot of Sex and the City. For whatever reason I’m also on this Benjamin Franklin-esque quest for knowledge that has mostly just led me to watch a ton of archived episodes of The Hour.

I do however have a camera. That’s basically the only reason I can think of to leave the building. I don’t do aimless walks, but taking pictures of shit seems to suffice as a justification. Yesterday I wandered up University to take pictures of the protesters, only to find they started building the stage for the MMVAs, which (I’m an asshole I know) was frankly a lot more interesting to me. I started taking pictures of that disco bullshit only to have my film break off inside my camera. Damn you replicated 1980s Hong Kong analog technology. Anyways, I went back there today with my digital camera after I picked up my Edgefest ticket from Sunrise and sucessfully resisted the urge to press my face against the Edge window and start pleading for them to give me a job. I was really depressed because part of me really hoped someone would pop out of the CTV building and go “Hey Kate, those shoes you’re wearing are fucking amazing, here’s a job at Much.” No dice.

I am pretty stoked about my new shoes though.

Look I can kick myself in the face.

I’m pretty stoked about my Lil Wayne shirt too.

Lil Wayne holding a slice of cake.

How can they reject me when I dress like the female Mark Spicoluk.

I’m listening to Alan Cross on the Edge right now. I don’t know why I didn’t start streaming it online before because my sweet motherfucking JBL speakers are so much better than a clock radio. Also Alan Cross’s voice induces a zen-like state for me.

Here’s some shit from today.

Annex Adventures

Fuck it was so ~*lovely*~ out on Friday, Jessica and I determined it was imperative we find a way to enjoy the weather while  eating for maximum joyousness. So we went to Victory Cafe since neither of us had ever been there, and our food bible BlogTO always writes favorably about it.

We walked past this “mural” on Harbord. Children make shitty artists. I support the tiny Wu Tang fan in his/her quest to reach their full thug potential, but the crazy mouse man beast (is its Afro shaped into ears, or is it a black Mickey Mouse?) was fucking disturbing.

Anyways, we got a prime patio spot at Victory, and promptly ordered foooood.

I got a cheeseburger and Jessica got chili-cheese fries. I don’t know if its just because now, left to my own devices, I am starving, but I swear to God it was the best fucking burger I have ever had. And it came with this tiny container of ranch-like sauce that I kept dipping my fries in because though not visibly obese, I am so fucking fat on the inside.

Janice came by but we were already done eating so we moved on to Green Room so that she could get food and continue the patio adventure.

But not before being intimidated by Honest Ed’s.

Yay Green Room.

So we sat on the patio that no one knew existed until recently, and Janice ordered a sandwich and we got a few drinks. I do not trust the food at Green Room. Just because a place serves food does not mean you should eat it. They have sweet massive plates of $2 fries, and “quesadillas” (really just cheese in a tortilla) that I’m obsessed with, but I’m not venturing beyond that. Its a student pub, they can pull a tap or mix simple drinks and maybe bring you a plate of nachos, but I refuse to anything masquerading as a real meal.

It got pretty fucking gloomy out so we went inside. Our preemptive strike against mother nature allowed us to claim the couches, usually impossible because under normal circumstances no one ever leaves the building before midnight, but the experience was kind of wasted on the fact that there were like, 3 of us. Geoff and Paul came down, then we headed to Lab for $3 Jack night. Evidently $3 gets you a lot of Jack at Lab. Even Geoff, who shortly after I met him, was drinking whiskey and milk or some other abhorrent combination, thought the drinks were fucking strong.

Then Jessica, Geoff and Paul left to go see The Miles play at The Boat, but I was so fucking tired even my love of infectious dance music could not keep me awake.

I fucking hate Gene Simmons

Man I should have liveblogged this episode of Disband haha. It would have been so epic, a perfect demonstration of the phenomena where something is so fail it becomes win.

Seeing the Universal offices made me want to shit my pants with glee. Its like looking into a secret world that I want to be in.

My only complaint was WHY THE FUCK WAS GENE SIMMONS THERE. Does he have some secret fabulous A&R career that I was unaware of? Was MuchMusic trying to add a little extra star power? Honestly, if you were a musician would you really want Gene Simmons’ name attached to you? Its not like its in his KISS heyday where he was banging a ton of pussy everynight and on coke. He’s a washed up reality star with the face of Flabber from Big Bad Beetle Borgs.

Every time I see him I just think of the episode of Family Jewels where he and his wife get couples plastic surgery and when they come home their kids start crying at the sight of them.

More importantly, Stereos target-audience has zero KISS reference point. Teenage girls do not give a shit about KISS. This is a fact. The only people under 25 who care about KISS are teenage boys in their “I’m not listening to any band formed before 1975″ phase (I swear to God they all have it.)

Just Like CNN

OH LORD, HAS THE 27TH COME SO QUICKLY. THE SEASON FINALE OF DISBAND IS TONIGHT. MUCH HAS GOT ANOTHER TICKER. WHAT IS WITH ALL THE TICKERS.

Did he just talk to me like I was ugly?

Just encountered the Pita Pit asshole of life. Yeah I’d be pissed too if I worked at Pita Pit but you don’t have to be such a dick. I asked for a turkey pita and he stares at me blankly for like 30 seconds before going “what KIND of turkey pita?” UM the fucking kind where you take turkey out of your little fridge and put it on my fucking pita and hand it to me, christ.

My obsession with comas/severe head trauma lives on. I spent like an hour on Wikipedia reading related shit. I blame The Odyssey. I remember a really long time ago Lainna said something about how she felt it said something about her as a person that as a child her favorite movie was Labyrinth when that movie is totally fucked and most people only come to enjoy it for its 1980s insanity in their adult years. When I was a kid my favorite show was The Odyssey and only now do I realize how absolutely fucked and potentially scarring it was. This nerdy little kid wants tries to befriend this band of assholes who steal a telescope given to him by his dead father who FELL OVERBOARD ON THEIR FISHING TRIP TOGETHER then he falls out of a tree fort and gets knocked into a coma where he’s trapped in this fantasy world that’s basically a police state inhabited only by kids. The show cuts back and fourth between Jay, the little kid, trapped in the coma-fantasy world and his Mom in the hospital trying to wake his shit up.

I wish this show was on DVD.

Anyway, look at all the fucked up shit that can happen as a result of head injuries.

A drastic treatment for increased [intracranial pressure] is decompressive craniectomy, in which a part of the skull is removed and the dura mater is expanded to allow the brain to swell without crushing it or causing herniation. The section of bone removed, known as a bone flap, can be stored in the patient’s abdomen and resited back to complete the skull once the acute cause of raised ICP’s has resolved. Alternatively a synthetic material may be used to replace the removed bone section

Yeah I’m fucked I know.

Ugh I don’t want to eat this pita it was made with malice.

Lactating Contortionist Strippers

In my opinion all guys should take a fashion cue from Dallas Green. When Googling examples to support this, I came across:

Which is pretty fucking great. I would also like to add that the file name is “dallashat” which I of course read as “Dallas Shat.”

But then things somehow got better.

Is this for fucking real? I’ve seen a picture of him wearing a dress on stage before, but this makes me feel like someone hacked his and Leah Miller’s private honeymoon album or some shit. Its just fucked. If that was a parasol and not an umbrella I’d actually have to jump out a window.

This band is fucked.