IDs and DJs

I lost my wallet yesterday. It's amazing how much of a persons life can depend upon the contents of a folded up piece of leather. Who am I without my student ID? My jazzy neon bus pass!My bank card, drivers license and Java U coffee stamp card! I only needed one more stamp until the free one! Why god, why? Suddenly, I'm transformed into a non-citizen, a street urchin. I have no picture ID. How will I prove I'm over 18 when I'm buying cigarettes for the high school kids?

Is this what limbo feels like, the biblical limbo where all those good kids who weren't baptized go?

And I only lost it for an hour too.

* * *

So Becky and I are applying for a slot on CJLO this summer. I am totally stoked. And I am also stoked about incorporating "stoked" into my first on-air commentary as much as humanly possible, likely forcing Becky to hurl the mic across the studio until it's in itty-bitty pieces.

We have to fill out the application, which asks who your favorite artists are, and why you want to have a radio show. So I figure I'll post my possible answers here, and people can tell me if I sound hip.

Favorite artists: (I'm thinking I should have some classic stuff, but also some stuff that's a bit obscure. So that hopefully someone there will look at it and go, "Oh, yeah! Those guys are the shit! But, hmmm... who is that? Interesting.") The Clash, The Futureheads, Blondie, pre-1998 Liz Phair, Nick Drake, Matthew Sweet, Sleater-Kinney, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Sonic Youth, The New Pornographers, Radiohead, Bjork, MC5, Iggy and the Stooges, The Raincoats, The Slits, X, Neutral Milk Hotel, Iron and Wine, The Lovely Feathers, Broken Social Scene and Television.

Why I want a radio show: (this is a fukin' hard, fuckin' pain in the ass question and it violates my constitutional right to have a college radio show.) Music is a HUGE part of my life. I am the embodiment of rock n' roll. Not really, but I've read some books about people who are, and I try to be like them. I get abnormally excited when two songs I mix sound really great next to each other, and sometimes, when I'm alone in my room, I'll listen to the transition over and over again(this part is good, eh?). Also, I talk a bunch.

Also, we need a super-fantastico name for our show. Becky suggested "happy hour." Please, we need help. What about "A to B"? It's a Futureheads song, and we are Aurora and Becky. Clever? Lame?

Advanced Geometry/Crocheting 201

A model of a hyperbolic plane, or a new toy for kitty?

Apparently, mathematician Daina Taimina is the first person to create an accurate model of the crazy fucked up geometric shape, the hyperbolic plane. And she did it with knitting. Right on, sistah!

She should totally sell them on e-bay too. This one would look swanky on my winter coat.

Holy Toledo!

In some strange act of kizmit or serendipity or whatever crazy mojo happens when you never saw it coming, the Lovely Feathers will be playing with my other favorite Montreal band, Pony Up! Outstanding. April 26th, Sala Rossa. It boggles the mind I tell you! I think I'm going to pass out now.

No? Okay, I'll keep yammerin' then.

I went to a Concordia ArtMatters party on Friday. It was meant to be a video instillation, with . . . weird arty pretentious videos, or something? But it turned out to be this horny love-crazed house (it actually took place in a Concordia building) party instead. Gay guys were hitting on straight guys, straight girls were hitting on gay girls, gay girls were hitting on gay guys, and straight guys were hitting on doorknobs. By the end of the night, I was quite smashed (thanks to $2 beers), and I had this odd sensation that, unbeknownst to me, I had just participated in some strange psychological experiment/arty pretentious video. Things were done. . . . naughty things involving bathroom line-ups and conveniently(strategically?) located empty storage cabinets. But you don't want to hear about that.

Maybe you'll see it all at next year's "video instillation" party.

Oh Happy Bunny, I am your slave.

I know, I know. Goddamn quizzes. But I could not resist the Happy Bunny. Please Forgive me.

I was mad for a minute there because I thought it was telling me I smelled like butt. Like, how can you determine that from a quiz? Unless one of the questions was "do people often tell you that you smell like butt?" or "when you walk into a room, do people make strained faces of anguish? Do some of them leave?" Apparently, I am just the kind of person who would tell someone they smell like butt. Which I, strangely enough, did already today.





congratulations. You are the "you smell like
butt" bunny. you're brutally honest and
always say what's on your mind.


which happy bunny are you?

I'll show you stupid and shallow!

This website is like crack. For shallow, self-absorbed people. But in a very post-modern way. Like, it's cool that I'm shallow and stuff, because I am actually one with my shallowness. And I can turn it on and off at will. Or maybe it's because neither I nor any of my friends look like supermodels, so we feel entitled to insult other people's bad fashion choices, to boost our egos.

Apparently, we are not alone.

dogs and gods

Yeesh. It's been too long, friends. And it's not even that I had nothing to blog about, I just came down with a bad case of schoolitis. It was ugly, let me tell you. More than one evening of uninterrupted studying-in a row! Unbearable.

And I so wanted to write all about the wonderful evening of Saturday last. Accompanied by my dear friends and then some other people whose names I was relieved to remember when I had to make introductions, I went to Le Swimming (Bienvenue to Quebec, land of le confused french article-engish verb combo) and saw the Lovely Feathers, and the Golden Dogs. Both acts were inspiring. And when I say inspiring I mean that the music effected me physically. And by that I mean I stood 2 inches from the stage, dancing like a marionette being controlled by the choreographer from Footloose if he were actually an evil mastermind bent on avenging the death of his Yorkshire terrier, who had been trampled by a mob of very organized ballroom dancers, by making them all dance like retards. You follow?

Becky and Walter's friend Angela were kind enough to dance next to me, enabling further retardation on my part. The music was fantastic, by the way. I'd never seen the Golden Dogs before. They were so full of energy, a la MC5's/Stooges. The tall, lanky lead singer with hippie hair kind of reminded me of the guidance counselor from Freaks and Geeks, Mr. Rosso, but better looking--or a hot Jesus who knows how to kick out the jams!

Speaking of sexy religious icons, I went to the Eternal Egypt exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine art yesterday. They have some pretty breathtaking stuff. Pages from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, statues, stelae and even some jewelry. And, damn, some of those Egyptian Kings were hotties. Especially Sesostris III, who's about 3800 years old. Nice pecks, dude.

E.T. has a bladder too!

To make up for my tardieness, here is something from me!

Little Feather

Late. Sorry.