contact has been made

I think that the death penalty is a good idea, and should be mandatory for people caught shoplifting Sublime CDs. I mean, it’s a crime enough to actually own a Sublime CD. To shoplift one is a tragedy. I blame society, really, for not helping take care of these troubled youths, and enabling them to grow up to think that it’s OK to break a law and a Commandment in the name of listening to shitty frat-boy pop-ska. As a punishment, I think society should penalize these individuals and leave their corpses hanging in a public place as a warning to the world what happens when you let things get out of control.

Thus endeth the lesson.

So yeah, I found the shredded remains of a Sublime CD case at work today– the person had opened the box and stolen the CD out– this means the perp actually wanted to *listen* to the CD and wasn’t just some crackhead who wanted to steal stuff to sell back to us and get money to buy “his kid a present” as one busted shoplifter claimed the other day.

Oh, humans. The human race is so weird and unpredictible, yet… totally predictable.

What’s new? Let me try to think of 3 days’ worth of revelations and/or events…

• I just got home from work– in time for bed! Yay!
• The new T-Raumschmiere CD is awesome. I didn’t really like the last one, but this one is really glitchy and spacy. Cristian Vogel produced it, not that any of you know or care who that is… but to geeks like me who are into “shitty techno,” it is awesome. Track 6 uses this awesome noise that sounds like this grunting pig squeezy dog toy that some dog I had to dogsit for once had. Someday I will make a dance track entirely out of squeezy dog toy sounds. I want to have an orchestra comprised of people stomping on rubber chew steaks. Track 8 sounds like Dr. Who’s sonic screwdriver.
• Werewolves on Wheels: easily the greatest Easy Rider rip-off flick about satanic werewolf vampires.
• As much as I like Lady Sovereign, I was forced to make way for the S.O.V. twice yesterday, and have heard that album every single day since I started working back at the store. The album is cool, but I’m about to have a Clockwork Orange-type freakout attack if I have to hear Public Warning again.
• Wasabi peas are THE SHIT!!! I can’t wait until they invent a wasabi pea that contains all the nutritional stuff you need to sustain life, so that’s all I need to eat in order to survive. OK, maybe wasabi peas and Brigham’s Curse Reversed ice cream.
• The new Clipse cd is pretty good.
• I beat my old high score at What Word. Previously I had made it to level 30; I have now breached level 56. I don’t know if I am proud of that, as it’s another sign that I have no life.
• according to a co-worker, the Insane Clown Posse is supposedly a stealth Christian band. Unfortunately, I care so little about them I am too apathetic to try to find out if that’s true or not.
• I spent all Monday decorating the store for the Holidays– my job is awesome! I jewed up part of it with menorahs and dreydels, and the rest has Christmas-y themes. I tend to fixate on Victorian Christmas symbols, so I went heavy on the red birds, holly, and bells. I like apples, too, but I thought they might be a little too far-out for mainstream Christmas decorations.
• 
  Get more Myspace Comment Pictures at JokesUnlimited.com

  (I have no idea why I find this picture so funny)

See the movie Babel. It’s totally awesome.

Today was gorgeous! It was warm and sort of sunny. I did laundry and uh… I don’t know… Vegged out working on my website and crap. I rode my bike down to Coolidge Corner to see Babel, and it was a really nice ride. Oh, it was nice except for the car I smacked into on my bike. There was this dumb car double-parked, and all the rest of the lanes were full of card. I decided that I could squeeze my bike in between the double parked car and one parked in a legal spot. Oops! My bike is way too short for the handlebars to clear the cars’ mirrors. I put a couple of small scrapes on the car and left a note because I’m such a good citizen and stuff. It irks me when people smash up my car and don’t leave notes, so I decided to adhere to the Golden Rule. Go, me. I hope the people don’t expect me to pay for it because I have no money right now–I shouldn’t have seen that movie! Oh well, it was definitely worth my $9.50.

Wouldn’t that make a nice band name?
…And the winner of the grammy for Best Make-up in a previously recorded cereal commercial jingle goes to…

SNOWSUIT BONDAGE!!!

I like it. Every so often I feel the urge to look at my website statistics to see what Google searches brought wayward visitors to my humble blip on the Innernets. Usually it’s people looking for various types of porn, fisting, “analfisting” etc. because I used to type in the texts of the eloquent spams I would get on a daily basis. However, “snowsuit bondage” is a new one on me!

I need to do laundry. Seriously. OK, I know that’s boring, but that’s the whole point of blogs, isn’t it? To reveal the stupid, intimate details of your life because you can’t think of anything else to talk about? If I were still writing in my paper journal, I’d probably spend like 5 pages talking about how I need to do laundry so there.

In fact, let me find a really boring journal entry and reproduce it here, just because I’m bored and tghe movie I want to see doesn’t start for another hour and a half, and I doubt I’ll be able to stay awake that long.

here we go…

24 October 1993 (68 days and counting)

I cooked today, yes I cooked. really! I invented some vegetable cheese lasagna (I haven’t tasted it yet) and I made not one but 2 apple pies. I also carved a pumpkin. My day has just been full of activity!

Analysis: I had a nice day. I think the 68 day countdown was to my birthday. That entry was randomly selected, too– I didn’t search for a particularly boring one. I can’t wait until archaeologists dig up my 15 volumes of diaries in the conveniently cheap black and white composition books– they will be bored out of their skulls. I can see it now… and here is the life of a girl in her early twenties at the dawning of the -15th Space Era (that was known as the 3rd millennium back then). It seems that she… cooked something called a “lasagna.” I haven’t heard of that creature, I suppose they went extinct during the Great Martian wars of 2010.
Because I am procrastinating assembling the Holiday decorations I bought for the store today (it was my assignment– holiday-ify the store on Monday), I started to read my roommate’s Cosmopolitan magazine. I have deduced that the whole point of Cosmo is:

YOU WILL AUGMENT YOUR SOUL TO BE THE PERFECT WIFE, MORTAL FEMALE!

Here’s an example, in an article designed to help keep the “spice” in your romance. It’s entitled “What Smart Girlfriends Never Do.”

SIN 4 (wasn’t that a cut on the Second Pet shop Boys album?)
Baring All, All the Time

In an old Seinfeld episode, Jerry grumbles that his new girlfriend spends too much time in the nude. That seems like a strange complaint for a guy to make, but think about it: Few of us truly want to see a naked person squat to pick up a sock off the floor… or, for that matter, experience a coughing fit, strain while opening a pickle jar, or fix a bicycle.
Overexposure may anesthetize your man to how provocative your nude form is. So, make an effort to keep the vision of your unclothed body special. “I’d go as far as to say that nudity should be connected only to sex,” says Dr. Ablow (snicker, snicker– it’s OK for me to make fun of his name, he doesn’t work for my company). “Not to housework or to reading in bed but to sex alone. If you want it to remain erotic, I’d go even further and say there’s no need for your lover to see you getting dressed. Ever. Any time you lay your hands on a button, it should be to take your clothes off, not put them on. This imbues even your blouse with erotic energy. He sees your hand drift to your button, and he’s excited.”

What the unclefucking, crack smoking, holy mother of ass-raping Christ is “Dr. Ablow” on about? Oh I get it. We have to train our men like dogs to drool at the sight of us, because we must remain mysterious and alluring. Fuck that noise! People in other parts of the world go nekkid all the time, and you don’t see the populaion decreasing. Whatever. I thought the sight of a nekkid chick fixing a bike would be a welcome sight for a dude, but apparently they are fragile creatures and we must do everything within our power to see that they are made happy. Moving on…

SIN 6:

Dressing Down, Down, Down

“Once you’re a couple, it’s easy to fall into bed wearing sweats and an old tee shirt, says Dr. Ablow, “but it makes the bedroom a less magical place.” We want to believe that we’re so well loved, it doesn’t matter, he explains. The problem is that you can be very well loved and yet not remain sexually attractive to your partner. Maintaining allure requires a little extra work.
So get out a few of those teddies from your dating days or buy some new naughty surprises. Every night offers another opportunity to look, if not fantastic, at least a little special. Otherwise you’re sending the unspoken message that going to bed with him is just business as usual.
The next morning, don’t throw your sexy lingerie in the communal laundry. Lingerie is meant to be alluring and mysterious. If he finds your see-through nightgowns wrapped up in a ball with his sweatpants, it immediately becomes just another piece of fabric.

Oh my. Where to begin? Let’s see… no wonder I can’t get laid! I happen to habitually sleep in my birthday suit (this apartment is frequently 90 degrees or more). In men’s magazines are they telling dudes not to wear their ratty skid-marked underwear and ripped up Iron Maiden t-shirt to bed to they can retain their allure? Something tells me: no.

Moving on… Here’s a selectrion from the “Man Manual” (i.e., pictures of shirtless, obviously gay models smiling at the camera in various “natural” settings):

He Means What He Says

To figure out if he’s beingsincere, see if his expression matches what he’s saying. If he tells you, “I’d love to take you to may favorite breakfast joint,” he should look happy and eager. “The truth is expressed through the non-verbal, especially when it comes to guys,” explains Nelson. “You should always go with what his face is telling you, even if his words seem to suggest otherwise.”

TRANSLATION: it’s Ok for for guys to lie all the time. If you don’t realize that they’re just leading your on, you’re pretty stupid for not having read him correctly in the first place.

Ok, ok, looking at pictures of anorexic models with designer outfits that probably cost more than all the money I’ve ever spent on clothes in my life is getting pretty old. thank god I have a Mad Magazine I got at work. Some things never change– I will always take Mad over Cosmo any day, and if I ever choose the latter over the former, you can be certain that I have been replaced by an android double.

I just made a Space Ship Problem generator. It creates situations such as:

The diurnal collision decoders are ululating! We have to loosen the computational transformers if we want to not all be speaking Zorkon next week!!!

and

The technotronic altitude vaporizers are defenestrating! We have to tighten the surplus liquidators if we want to save Princess Aagnah!!!

Yes, we all know I’m a nerd. I had a lot of fun making this useless toy which will probably entertain nobody other than myself.

I know it’s about football or something, but I still think that headline is funny. I picture a bunch of dolphins kicking the crap out of some swimming lions… I’m easily amused, OK?

So far my thanksgiving has been pretty rad. The Biatch and I tried to find a bar that was open in central Square, but gave up and went to Chahlie’s in Hahvard Sq. The food and booze was yummy. We then saw Casino Royale, which I actually liked a lot. I’ve seen every single James Bond movie (including all the ones up to A View To a Kill like 8 times each at least), so I’m not stranger to the ups and downs, shortcomings and triumphs of the movies. This new take on things was pretty good. It starts out as Bond is first promoted to 007– you see him come up with his trademark dorky one-liners (and missed an obvious opportunity for one, which was noticeable in its absense), invent his favorite drink, see him driving a Ford rental car (until he wins a 1962 Astin Martin in a poker game). He also falls in love with this chick, which is new and different. It’s actually vaguely touching, unlike when he married Diana Rigg in the way silly On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and then she died.

James Bond is back to Being English– I was kind of hoping that the next dude would be from Northern Ireland, or Canada or New Zealand or something– so far Sean Connery was Scottish, George Lazenby was Australian, Roger Moore was English, Timothy Dalton was Welsh, and Pierce Brosnan is from Ireland. Maybe the next dude should be from the Isle of Man. Hmm.

There’s this kid I work with who puts on Paul Stanley’s solo album EVERY SINGLE DAY. Holy shit does this CD suck massive balls. Seriously. It’s the I-just-got-out-of-rehab CD that every aging rocker must make to prove he’s not quite ready to pass on the torch. The sad thing is, I don’t think he just got out of rehab, he just writes like it. Here’s a sample of some random lyrics:

Baby
Everytime I see you with your arms around another
Everytime, my world comes crashing down
And it’s all bittersweet
My heart skips a beat
Everytime I see you around

This is from the man who was once a member of the band whose name, it was rumored, was an acronym for Knights In Satan’s Service. I don’t get it. The music on this CD is as bland and generic as you can get without being Kenny G– it’s that kind of music you used to hear from Jem and the Holograms, or Josie & the Pussycats– one of those fictitious “truly outrageous” rock bands.

This co-worker is also fond of Medeski, Martin & Wood, whose album is the jazz-wanker equivalent to 70’s cock rock. Picture Kenny G playing guitar with the Steve Miller Band backing him up. That’s pretty much what this sounds like.

I have refrained from playing any of my “shitty techno” at work so far. However, I think it may be time to bust out the Daft Punk soon! I can annoy as hard as I can be annoyed!

Oh, Before now, my Worst Nightmare CD was a Jam Band Tribute to Lynyrd Skynyrd. However, I think I have a new one: apparently ELP made a Christmas album. AAAACCCCKKK!!!

Can you tell I’m a little crabby? I worked from 10:20 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. I think it’s definitely time for beddy-bye. Goodnight Moon!

Why did every single person in Boston feel the need to buy Jay Z’s CD today? Why? Well they did, and I was on register at work to ring them all up.

Also releasing CDs today: The Beatles (somebody remastered and re-mixed songs so they are twice as annoying), Snoop Dogg (I like this CD. It’s way less goofy than his last one), Tupac (he’s released more CDs since he’s been dead than Nine Inch Nails ever has), Tom Waits (it’s wicked expensive, but it comes with a book), U2 (a Greatest Hits album thinly disguised), Oasis (a greatest hits album not even trying to be disguised), Loreena McKennitt (same ol’ crap), Daughtry (from American Idol! WTF?), Brand New (yawn), and some KISS live retrospective thing. All in all? Nothing I was even remotely excited over.

What cracks me up is that the Beatles thing came in 2 varieties (every CD does these days): the regular version and the Deluxe version. People saw that the deluxe version comes with a DVD, shit their pants, and instantly dropped the 2 extra bucks on it. Of course, I don’t think they realized that the DVD contained no video– it was just a DVDA (snicker snicker) CD. So, if they don’t have a fancy stereo system hooked up to their DVD player, it is fairly useless. Go, music industry! They keep doing that– the Neil Young Live at the Fillmore thing that everyone creamed their shorts over last week also came with a Bonus DVD in the Deluxe version– the DVD contained photographs (not video footage) and some other anti-climactic non-video stuff. Whoopee. Actually, don’t get me started on the music industry. The whole “let’s release the same album like 15 times with bonus tracks” thing really burns my toast. But whatever.

I’m just cranky because I got to work an hour early so I could train one of the new Christmas Drones, except he never showed up for work. Then another drone went off to lunch and never came back. We’re massively short-staffed to begin with (there were only 2 of us there this morning with lines across the store), and that didn’t help. My brain is completely fried. Grr. Curse you Jay Z! Beatles. Tupac. I guess dead musicians are better than live ones. You can do anything to their music you want and they won’t complain. They also won’t be getting into any scandals or trashing hotel rooms and make you pay for it. The lesson to be learned? Let’s kill all rock stars.

James Blunt needs to die tragically– that’s the only way we’re gonig to sell off any of the 80 billion used first-edition James Blunt CDs in the warehouse (never mind the fact that his music blows chunks). JB just re-released his same CD for like the 18th time (with a bonus track!!!), so who’s going to buy the original version? If he were to die tragically right now, everyone would feel compelled to go buy his shit, and maybe we’d have a shot at cleaning out some boxes of Back To Bedlam. Have him die nobly! I’m not saying he has to be murdered or have a drug overdose. Let some cancer-ridden crippled kittens be saved from a fire by James Blunt! Maybe he could rescue some homeless puppies from drowning or something; something that makes people feel good about Jimmy. Something that makes them feel good enough to run out and buy his (used) CD.

The record company sure didn’t act fast enough when Gerald Levert kicked the bucket a couple weeks ago. People were in the store ready to pounce upon his back catalogue, but he doesn’t have much that’s even in print these days– I’m predicting that a giant expensive box set is giong to come out in the next month or two. Maybe even in time for Christmas! Geez, poor Gerald’s dead, Luther Vandross died last year… if Freddie Jackson dies, the human race will die out– there will be no music left to get it on to. All inter-booty relations will come to a grinding halt as the atmosphere for doin’ it evaporates… bottles of champagne left to chill and rose petals wither with no ambience providing the promise of the bump n grind…

Confession: I think soul music is kind of silly and it absolutely does not put me in an amorous mood.

Oy vey! Back in my day, goths listened to Bauhaus and Siouxsie & the Banshees! Now they listen to this crrrrap that sounds like someone hitting a garbage can with a 2x4 with Casio set to “clarinet” arpeggios! OYYY!

Wow, I think I’ve outgrown my “gothness.” Maybe it’s just mutated or something. Robin and I went to goth night at An Tua Nua, which is funny enough– a quaint, typical Bostonian Irishoid pub with a back room that houses a weekly goth night. For the occasion, someone had hung a few lengths of chain from the pipes that stretch above Irish stepdancing lessons and probably karaoke the other nights of the week. I just wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t recognize any of the music– it was all industrial stuff that was decades post-my-industrial-music-phase.

My angst has become less philosphical and existential in nature. OK, maybe it’s more or less the same amount of existentialist, but it’s definitely less philosophical and theoretical. All my angst these days is of the “god, I’m a loser” variety, not the “what’s the point of existence if all there is is pain?” vintage. My problems will not be lessened by a few hours of sitting on my bedroom floor playing Russian Solitaire listening to early Tears For Fears on vinyl. Hmm. I guess Tears for Fears weren’t even really goth, although they had songs called “Watch Me Bleed,” “Suffer the Children,” and “Start of the Breakdown.”

Goth didn’t really exist when I was a teenager anyway; I was more of an Artfag. Goth didn’t come into play until Marilyn Manson and friends Hot Topic-ized angst and made it go mainstream. I’m not complaining, mind you. I personally think it’s great that every adolescent has access to myriad buttons and t-shirts that say shit like “I -heart- geeks” and “I do what the voices tell me.” So, it’s cool in a certain way to be a freak. This is good. Cheerleaders now regularly have pierced bellybuttons and’or tongues. We can thank the Joint Coalition of Grunge and “Alternative Culture” for that. However, in the late 80s when I came of age, we were all still just artfags. I can honestly say that I hate subscribing to subcultures, no matter how “in tune” I think I am with them, though. It’s not that I’m so loathe to conform to any set of rules, it’s like rules never conform to me. I haven’t found a subculture that makes me feel “at home.” I always see a bunch of people who are dressing within a carefully prescribed code and listening to an accepted playlist because they desperately want to belong to something. My musical tastes tend to fall heavily on the Goth Side of the Force… and I like wearing black and being mopey. However… I don’t like basing my life around anything. I guess that’s why I suck at religion as well. What it all comes down to is that I don’t like being told how to live my life, whether it’s by an antiquated book, or any of the religion-substitutes available in the modern world (subcultures, cults, veganism etc.). People seem to like to belong to things and be told what to believe and how to live. It’s all very interesting, but not for me, thanks.

Anyway, Robin and I couldn’t really relate to “Ceremony” at An Tua nua tonight. At least I couldn’t Robin agreed, but sometimes he agrees with anything. SO here I am about to go to bed earlier than when I do on a “normal” non-going out night. Maybe I should go be disenchanted with goths more often, I’d probably get a lot more sleep!

P.S. the drinks at that place were way too expensive. I’m a thrifty goth, OK?