Music Store Despair

All due respect, Lauren, but Cheapo made me want to kill myself, and their stuff was totally expensive. In the words of Johnny "I let my marriage to Angelina got to hell so I could play with Ewan McGregor" Lee Miller in Trainspotting, "What a bloody mis-fucking-nomer." And there were teenagers talking about "post-rock" while their bored girlfriends chimed in about how much they hate hipsters. And it was 7:30 on a Thursday. They didn't have half the bands I was looking for, and they moved Nick Cave to Classic Rock. CLASSIC ROCK. Did the 90s not happen? Do they think they're being cute? Why not move Sonic Youth? Or Guided by Voices? Apparently none of the clerks there touched their first boob to Mr. Cave and The Bad Seeds. WTF?!

And the red smocks were very whatever that chain was that was going to take over the store in Empire Records, except ironic, or something. And the employee picks sucked. I'm never going back there. If it weren't for the extensive posters for upcoming shows, I'd have committed ritual suicide right in the entryway.

Women for Sale

Are you looking for a good woman? A good, God-fearing, CHRISTIAN woman? A woman who loves her livestock, babies, and sewing modest, modest clothes? A woman who likes her swimwear to come with a skirt and a belt? Do I have the girls for you!

It's technically a seamstress' webiste, but it got good once I found the family pictures. Scroll down to their 24 year old. You'll have nightmares, but only because you're not godly enough to see her true beauty. It's like Shallow Hal, but for Christ.

UPDATE: Their seventh daughter is not listed as marriagable, but I think that is beacause the has Down's Syndrome. I would feel sorry for her, but I imagine the internet is probably the tool to use if you're looking to arrange a marriage between two retarded fundamentalists.

I've figured out a way to solve this whole abortion debate. Instead of aborting some special, invidual life, etc., etc., we should just get info on their genetic code and save it, like it were a data file, and we can come back to it later! You can choose, spreadsheet, word document, text file, baby, it would be great!

Flaming Rain

I think the only person guaranteed to be dry tonight is going to be Wayne Coyne. The State Fair people insist that the show will go on, and that songs of our beloved Yoshimi will be heard, and Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon's ageless rocking hotness will cause the ears of all those useless under-25 hipsters who think Ben Gibbard is a great songwriter to melt in pain and shame. If I'm lucky, we will not be struck by lightning. If we are not lucky, I hope it all ends during Fight Test.

BIRTHDAYS!

Happy belated birthday to DJ, cousin of TODAY's birthday boy, great love of my life, Ethan! Feel the love as they both enter even numbered but sentimentally insignificant years!

I love you guys.

So Uncomfortable, but strangely...so pleasurable

So I started a temp job today, office slavery, and I liked it. I'm sure I'll be bored to death once I get the hang of everything(how could I not be, it's in HUMAN FUCKING RESOURCES), but for the moment, it's not repellant, and I should still be mildly interested by the time I make rent next week. It feels fantastic to know I'll be doing that without a loan, eBaying the originals of my CDs, or selling plasma(which apparently I'm not allowed to do anymore because of my "fainting spells." Whatever. I bet they'd still take a kidney if I promised to dry out.). And I actually like the people who I will have to work with for the next couple of months.

The beauty of this whole situation? It's Human Resources at Marshall Field's. As in the same company that sucked my soul into a vacuum and threw it in a dumpster in Ridgedale. Up until I got my little "Marshall Field's Girl" badge to attach to my cute little skirts, I thought I was entering falling action in my now totally derivative of Tess of the D'Urbervilles story. After crushing rejection and an almost comic destruction of all hope I crawled back to the source of my debasement and waited to embrace it and prepare for my inevitable, cleansing death, my dreams of simple happiness long since abandoned. But it turns out having a chair makes being a corporate whore a lot easier, what with the rest for my poor knees. We'll see.

Another weird dream

Last night I dreamt of a fasco-capitalist distopia where I managed to get a good job in the main skyscraper, and as I was trying to leave for the day, discovered that the men who were building higher into the sky were actually using the strongest men from earlier construction as nails. They were all in different stages of being hammered into the steel beams because the new strong men had to do it slowly so as not to kill the men in the structure. They kept crying out to me, but there was nothing I could do to rescue them. I just had to walk carefully to avoid stepping on them.

Was any part of this in a movie, or am I just losing my mind subconscious first?