Which reminds me of the time I lived in a basement apartment, underneath the living room of a woman who was practicing hard for the extremely, extremely, Southern girls you’re not even in it; you don’t have Tiger Mothers, EXTREMELY competitive Miss Chinatown contest.
Every night, she would play the piano; just one piece, over and over, loudly, with an oompah beat and great gusts of ambition, although apparently no past history of experience with the instrument. She practiced this bouncy Germanic tune nightly for about six weeks before my roommate looked up from her book, turned to me with tragic spaniel eyes, and said, “It’s the Moonlight Sonata.”
And so it was.
As if that weren’t soul-killing enough, here are your celebrity gossip links for the day:
First things first: who knew the frozen tundra was absofuckingloutely roasting in the summertime? I guess 24 hours of sunlight and no clouds, ever, will do that to you.
The remedy? BOOZE POPS! I’m wondering what kind of rum I can get at the liquor store to mix into these, because the freezer I’ve got can turn a bottle of lukewarm coke into a coke slurpee in about 15 minutes.
Yeah, okay. Maybe just that one guy dance, and everybody else watch him. And here I thought hipsters couldn’t move in those skinny pants! The fact that he performs this (and you really have to give it more than 30 seconds) in what looks like the setting for the world’s seediest amateur porn only makes the whole thing more fabulous.
Now that we’ve set the mood, the guests have started to arrive. The occasion, in case you’re wondering: a joint party (no puns, I hate smelly, dull people who mumble nonstop about pizza) for the birthdays of Julian Assange and myself. And look: everyone’s sitting down to dinner.
Happy Birthday, Mister President of Wikileaks
Who else was there? Oh, all the top celebrities. And what did they talk about? Each other, of course. And if you click over the jump to the celebrity gossip roundup, you’ll be able to read the whole thing.
Well, I dunno about you. I only know about me. I’m solipsistic that way. But if I were John Cusack, I probably wouldn’t record anything as sweet and hipstery-dweebish as this song.
If I Were John Cusack, by Dr Pants and sorry about the All Caps: obviously the lyrics decoder was just trying to give it a bit of hip-hop energy or something.
IF I WERE JOHN CUSACK
I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’D BE LIKE
CUZ I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT HIM
I ONLY KNOW THE CHARACTERS HE’S PLAYED
IF I WERE JOHN CUSACK
THE CHICKS MIGHT DIG ME MORE
BUT IT DOESN’T REALLY MATTER
CUZ I’M ALREADY MARRIED ANYWAY
BUT IN TRIBUTE TO JOHN, I JUST WANNA SING
LANE MEYER AND LLOYD DOBLER
MARTIN BLANK AND ROB GORDON
IF I WERE JOHN CUSACK
I’D MAKE HIGH FIDELITY 2
AND I’D MAKE IT TOTALLY AWESOME
IT WOULD BE THE GREATEST MOVIE EVER MADE
IF I WERE JOHN CUSACK
I’D STAY AWAY FROM ACTION FILMS
CUZ I WOULD KNOW THE TRUTH
ABOUT HOW IS AMPLE GENIUS IS BEST SERVED
AND IN TRIBUTE TO JOHN, I WILL ALWAYS SING
LANE MEYER AND LLOYD DOBLER
MARTIN BLANK AND ROB GORDON
JOHN, MY FRIEND, YOU’VE HELPED ME THROUGH A LOT
SO IF I WERE YOU, I’D SHAKE MY OWN HAND
CUZ WHEN MOVIES START TO SUCK, AND THERE’S NOT A GOOD FILM TO BE FOUND
YOU’RE ALWAYS THERE, READY TO TAKE A STAND
I guess you could say that’s looking on the bright side. Turning riots into art is a very 21st Century response.
Speaking of art, here is Lani Russworm’s amazing shot of the smoke rising from Downtown. It gives you some perspective on what this riot is doing to our city, and what kind of city it is.
Vancouver tonight. And how was YOUR evening?
I dunno if you’ve been following sports tonight, but I can’t say as it brings me much joy to be in Vangroover tonight: neither because of the loss nor because of the dumbass riots. Yes, we have Ed Hardy-wearing douchebags here, too.
Vancouver Fuck Calm
So, if you could use a Unicorn Chaser too, here are a lovely roundup of brain-soothing landscapes. Let your imagination pick one and drift away, possibly with the aid of a stiff cocktail or eight.
Manége de l'Hotel de Ville, Paris 1er, France by Gaston Bastini
Sure, t could be considered childish, and you’re just going round in circles, but the view is fabulous and the company charming and decorative.
Or if you’d like to opt out of adulthood altogether, there’s always this perennial favorite:
I only want a one way ticket
A one-way ticket will be just fine, thank you.
Treehouse of the Elder Gods
I think this is where Julian Assange and I will live once he’s paroled. If these cedars are rockin’, don’t come knockin’.
And finally, I’ll let you in on my retirement plans. Screw Florida!
Goodbye, Cruel World! Hello New, Improved World!
It’s true: I’d dump Assange in a Cair Paravel minute if Caspian would give me the time of day.
Sigh. There, feel better? Good. Now let’s read some trivia celebrity gossip links and forget all about those nasty, nasty uni-ball-having, hockey-not-playing rioting protoplasms.
raincoaster 