Why I want to be Amanda Palmer when I grow up

Things That Reek of What The Fuckery

http://laist.com/2009/02/23/anti-gay_westboro_baptist_church_pr.php

It's the picture that gets me. Apparently this group protests military funerals too. What the hell, guys? Why not just protest individual people? Stand outside their house and yell, "Boo! Down with Alex!"

My brother and I were going to get some friends together and protest another of our friends once. It would have made about as much sense as these fucking people.

Deity of the Day for Tuesday 24 March 2009

ACAT
From Mayan Mythology

ACAT: God of Tattoos and Tattooing. And we don't mean military ones.

The Maya often decorated themselves with body art which was of deep mystical significance. No cheesy anchors or "I luv Prudence" tattoos for them — they favored designs of the utmost Godliness. Having the symbol of a God tattooed on their flesh would, they believed, give them just the faintest whiff of Godly essence themselves.

Tattooing can be a nerve-wracking business. It's all very well scribbling a wobbly picture of Marilyn Monroe on someone's elbow, but what if you're inscribing the utterly holy face of a God and get the nose wrong? It's enough to make anyone's hands shake.

Luckily tattoo artists can call upon ACAT for assistance. He blesses the ink, the needles, the skin, and the funny buzzing machine. More importantly, he guides the hands of the tattooist at every stage of the operation — for perfect results every time.

We know several tattoo artists who would greatly benefit from ACAT's advice. So if you're thinking of getting a tattoo, make sure you visit a reputable establishment that's a member of the A.C.A.T. Guild. It's your skin.

~

Who else thinks that's awesome?

We Can Be All I Said Once In Your Head

libation \ly-BAY-shun\, noun:

1. The act of pouring a liquid (usually wine) either on the ground or on a victim in sacrifice to some deity; also, the wine or liquid thus poured out.
2. A beverage, especially an alcoholic beverage.
3. An act or instance of drinking.

Gee, I wonder why this is the word of the day. It may have something to do with this unnecessary excuse for America to get shitfaced today known as St. Patrick's Day. I'm convinced that no one actually gives a damn about being Irish or heritage or what have you.

The girl next to me in Anthropology class yesterday said that she loves this day because she's Irish. I asked if she wasn't Irish every other day of the year. She said that, well yeah, but today's the day she can really show her pride in it. I asked if she needed an excuse to be proud of who she is. She didn't answer--just shrugged-- and the guy behind me called me cynical. I turned, looked at him, and shrugged.

I am cynical. I'm not going to deny it because it's who I am, and I believe you should have pride in who you are regardless of what day it is.

I've been thinking about Twitter a lot recently. (I know I have no segue, but I couldn't expound one.) On the one hand it's pointless, as are most things on the internet, and I'm certain that I'd become hopelessly addicted to it, updating on every damn thing that comes to mind. On the other hand, however, I like the idea of telling people the random thoughts that run through my head. Isn't that what this is for, though? Isn't Twitter just microblogging? Why should I microblog when I already blog? Why the hell is "blog" a verb?

To further alienate myself from "normal" non-music-obsessed society, I need to rock right out of this hole and go. Also my back needs to stop hurting, but that's due to sitting on the ground leaning up against a wall. My posture is usually better.

Someone just tripped over me. Assholes, I am far from invisible, even if I'm sitting down.

~Edit: 13.15~

10 Tips to Survive the Road (from our friends of Dizzy Balloon, who cannot spell)

1. Floor is good. Carpet is great. Couch is best
2. Drink lots of water, because not only is it healthy it's free!
3. Let your facial hair grow when playing 21+ shows
4. Don't sit next to the sick guy in the van
5. Don't let guitarists drive
6. College meal cards from friend are awesome
7. Be prepared when playing with a band called Shrimp
8. Red Bull gives you wings
9. When driving through the desert trust the GPS
10. Go with the flow, the road is unpredictable

Forever's Not So Long

Forever's Not So Long from garrettmurray on Vimeo.

I don't know about you, but I came here to dance

ululate \UL-yuh-layt; YOOL-\, intransitive verb:

To howl, as a dog or a wolf; to wail; as, ululating jackals.

I don't know about you, but I think that's one of the best words ever. Say it to yourself. Yooooo-yuh-late. Ululate, as in, I mentally ululated when I dropped my waffle on the kitchen floor. Hello, gravity, you old shitbastard.

For some reason I find myself annoyed when I get up and get ready to go to class and then discover that it's been cancelled. Usually I discover this by the time I'm already in the city and on campus, but today I was lucky enough to check my email before leaving. So now I have time to have a nice cup of tea and not have to rush out the door to dozingly half-pay attention in class.

Watching a movie in my second class though. I will be out like a light in the back.

Also, my brother just got a Twitter. WHY DO I HAVE THE INESCAPABLE URGE TO UPDATE PEOPLE ON EVERY FUCKING THING I DO? THERE IS SOMETHING ROTTEN IN THE STATE OF DENMARK.

Again also, when did Batman cartoons start ripping off King Arthur? And why did they just drop the Green Arrow off a cliff? And why did Morgan Le Fey turn Merlin to stone? WHY DID BATMAN AND THE GREEN ARROW JUST PULL EXCALIBUR FROM THE STONE? WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY?!

Writers are liars and thieves

And to be truthful, we're kind of proud of that. Except for the writers of Heroes. They're just shameless, idea-deprived bastards. Anyway, back to my point, I'm stealing an idea for a post from my honeybuns, Justy Rae.

parry \PAR-ee\, verb, noun:

1. to ward off; turn aside (as a thrust or weapon)
2. the act of warding off

Parry, as in, I REALLY WISH I COULD HAVE PARRIED SLIPPING IN THE FUCKING MUD THIS MORNING. (Not a perfect use, but good enough for government work.) Gods. I hate this; my right leg and left knee are still soaking wet even though it happened about 2 hours ago, and I have to sit through another class with muddy jeans. I must look disgusting.

I'm pretty sure I smell like dirt and grass, too.

I hate the smell of dirt.

And I'm allergic to grass.

Also if another fucking person steps on me, shit will go down and I am not going to clean up that much blood again. Or at all.

~Edit: 15.56~



I love Amanda Palmer. If I have to grow up, I want to be her.