Presenting...

The other day we saw a blind man leading a blind girl through the metro.

Today, we confused an old woman with Janis the ipod - her younger lady friend had to explain we were doing with the weird, black, glowing box in our hands. Imagine seeing something like an ipod and having no cultural reference to explain its purpose. What are earth are they going to have when it is we who are wrinkled and saggy? No wonder the elderly are so disoriented all the time. Technology moves on to bigger and better things and leaves behind us mortals to fade and decay.

Also there was a girl who started 'secretly' sketching us on the metro. We aren't sure why - we were trying to manage Janis, our coffee mug, a pen and our massive course pack with our pitiful 2 hands. Twas interesting. Perhaps it was our new skirt, which looks like its from Burberry, but actually cost us $2.50 at the Salvation Army.

And now ladies and gentlemen, we would like to introduce:

THE TERRIFICALLY TRAGIC DEMISE of SUSIE Q

One fine, sunny day, Susie Q encoutered the angriest girl she had ever met. Angry Girl was sitting on a bench, looking very angry indeed.
"What are you so angry about?" asked Susie Q.
"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS?!?!?!?!?!?!" she screamed, very loudly and angrily. Susie scratched her head. What a perplexing situation this was.
"Well, it's warm and sunny outside, and I'm wearing my new skirt. What is there to be angry about?" Angry Girl released a frustrated growl.
"THE WORLD!" she yelled. "THE WORLD has been taken over by STUPID SUPERFICIAL PEOPLE who MURDER each other over NOTHING and DESTROY the planet at the same time! The human race is DOOMED if they continue like this, but NO ONE CARES at all! I am the SOLE PERSON in this quest to HALT our IMMINENT DESTRUCTION!" She stopped, out of breath. Susie pondered the very loud, angry words she had just heard. Unhappy people bothered Susie, and she felt obligated to make them better again. She thought very hard, and finally she was struck by an idea.
"I know! I'll give you a makeover!" she cried, or at least she would have, had she not been simultaneously struck, and then crushed, by a rogue american satelite dish. The satelite was in no way concerned with the insignificant beings now splattered all over the sidewalk, because satelite dishes have no emotions.

What will be Susie's next terrifically tragic demise? Please, we are open to suggestions!

Raconteurs tomorrow! Full report to come.

Eli x 3

Take Comfort

So we had all kinds of lovely, amusing links to post up here, for your amusment (even though you readers seem to be non-existant, or at least very shy), but then someone decided to walk into Dawson College and shoot people.
Take comfort, please, in knowing that you're mental health will never degrade to the point that you have to commit random acts of mass violence. Take comfort that you have friends in whom you can confide, and who will keep you in check when you start to feel a little crazy. Take comfort that you have your sanity, however frail it may seem at times.

Heart

Cheap. Ridiculous. Indigenous.

We read a news bit, which we can no longer find, about basketball player Stephon Marbury. He seems to have endorsed a pair of sneakers, which he wears on the court, and is selling them for a ridiculous price of $15 a pair. The idea is to show consumers how little it costs to make a quality pair of shoes. Aparantly there are crazy lines ups at the stores that sell them, and pairs are limited to two per customer. Crazyness! Because 15$ is cheap for ANYTHING. Except for bottled water.

Ok, so many discussions have been popping up about this band called Wolfmother. The consensus (amongst the... 3 people to whom we have spoken) is that Wolfmother is a ridiculous name, but the music itself is fantastic. The other day we considered purchasing the CD, but the cover art was also ridiculous. Soul got insulted so we left.

There's nothing really to say... Time has slowed to a sluggish pace as we sit at our little counter, waiting to be yelled at by tourists. Someone asked us today if we had any Inuit souvenirs - they seemed so disappointed when we said no, and they kept asking us as if we hadn't understood the first time. This constant request for native american products confounds us, really. Because would indigenous products REALLY remind one of Montreal? Is there some sort of indian essence that we have missed our entire lives? Does one arrive in Montreal, arms thrown open wide, exclaiming "Wow what a place! I really need a pair of moccasins to remind me of this fabulous city!"

On to bigger and better things, i.e., not facebook. ... Okay maybe facebook.

Eli Eli Eli

In Whispered Tones

Brain has officially gone mad. She seems to have lost all grasp on common sense and logic, opting instead for passion-fueled anger. Brain, when under the influence of alcohol, throws all restraint and poise out the window. Soul, of course, is no help, seeing as how she's always gone two sheets to the wind, which leaves tiny little Me to hold down the fort. Which is an impossibility. So when faced with the source of all our current rage, Brain thought it wise to speak up, take a stand, throw a little gas on the fire (because things were going much too smoothly, you see). And so Brain bravely marched forward, egged on by Soul's gleeful encouragements (Soul can be like a 5-year-old at Christmaswhen she feels a fight coming), and undeterred by my feeble protests. When the moment came, of course it went perfect, the reaction was priceless (if I'm to be perfectly honest). But as we were leaving, and as Brain and Soul high-five-ass-slsapped each other for a job well done, I was moaning. "You've made it worse, you ass-monkeys," I lamented, "what the fuck are we supposed to do next week?"
"Who cares?" screeched Soul, "Don't you feel relieved?"
"Well maybe for a split second, I did!" I shouted, my face red with rage, "but now everything is a million, billion, TRILLION times worse. Fucktards!" And that's when they rounded on me.
"Moments of blissful peace are few and far between - take 'em when you can get 'em," Brain stated, suddenly sober.
"Things were going to get worse before they got better," explained Soul. "We're just... just... fast forwarding the process".
They both burst into cackles. I've given up, and am now going to bed.
Until another time.

Heart

CHOM walks 10 miles barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways

Sunday night was prom all over again, expect without the drama, puke, or irritating, squealing, emotional teenaged girls.

Lately we've been listening to this crazy brit band called The Horrors - think Sex Pistols meets White Stripes with a touch of epilepsie for good measure. They recently did a music video, directed by Chris Cunningham, for their song Sheena Is A Parasite, which was banned by MTV for being, apparantly, utterly disgusting. While we wouldn't say it was utterly disgusting (though it certainly is creepy and full of squidy grossness), it's definitely less offensive than any of the shit MTV plays and dares to call Hip Hop.

Also, while we're on the topic of large music institutions plagued by a giant rape-stick up their asses, CHOM actually had the odacity to say the phrase "return to a time when music mattered" in the promo for their weekly show "The Deep End". WHEN MUSIC MATTERED????????? "You fucktards!!" screamed Soul. To CHOM we say:

You are the embodiment of every single stuck up music critic and uptight authority figure that snubbed their noses at your precious Zeppelin, Hendrix, Kiss, Aerosmith, AC/DC... Everything you play was hated by someone older than you when it was first released, and yet now, now that you are in a position to expose the world (or maybe just Montreal) to all kinds of wonderful, strange new sounds, you turn up your nose because it's not the same as your childhood soundtrack.

We become furious at the thought of ever having to listen to that station ever again. We propose a boycott - not that many of you readers (and not that there ARE many of you readers) to spread the word that CHOM is bad, wrong and senile. We propose that you head on down to the CHOM studio on Fort and Ste Catherine and throw your radio at their window. That way you can express your displeasure and incure some property damage at the same time. Kill two birds with one radio, we say.

Ok, class time. We now must attend a class to which we were very much looking forward, but that we must share with our cousins irritating friend (and possibly lesbian lover). Ta.

Eli x3

You said new love grows on trees

A new blog for a new (school) year, filled to the brim with obscure musical references and pretty little HTML tricks. Spot them all and we will give you a cookie.

For the moment, we must go attack our kitchen sink with a plunger. The drain has been misbehaving.

More to come, our pretties.


Eli x3

PS - you should be listening to The Horrors and TV on the Radio.