Archive for July, 2010|Monthly archive page

Those Shoes Rule, Those Shoes Suck.

I can’t stand most chick flicks. Ok wait. Let me rephrase. I can’t stand watching most chick flicks with other people. Especially boys. I have this reputation you see. I have tattoos, so ergo must be a cool tom boy that chills, drinks beer, smokes cigarettes and watches sports. Little do boys know I do only one of those things, but I outwardly attempt to put off the vibe that I do it all. That’s what makes me awesome.

I recently partook in a drive in theatre experience. I bought my dream car recently, a wood panelled station wagon that has the reverse bucket seat in the back that is just perfect for the drive in. So we went. Tuesday’s is only a double feature, instead of a triple for only $5 and I was unemployed, broke and bored, so this kind of night fit perfectly within not only my budget but my mental stability. The two movies were Sex and the City 2 and Robin Hood. Let my rant begin.

Sex and the City 2 is possibly the biggest waste of time on the entire planet. This comes above medial tasks like filing, and board meetings, and for those of you that are younger, homework. Seriously can’t stand that movie. There wasn’t even enough clothes and shoes to keep me entertained, and that’s saying something. The part I’d like to focus on though is near the end.. let me see if I can find a clip. While you wait, here’s a funny monkey:

I make that face all the time

I make that face all the time

Ok… Screw American piracy laws.

Besides the ridiculous story line that legitimately makes no gosh darn sense, there’s unfathomable lifestyles portrayed for someone who thinks owning a house at 26 is a great accomplishment. Not compared to this woman who has 2 apartments, one that boasts a walk-in closet that actually made me gasp, full of clothes that I can only look at in magazines. Not only will I never be able to afford these clothes, or apartments, I probably wouldn’t even be allowed in a store that sells such merchandise.

This makes me more angry than you will ever know... blasphemy!

This makes me more angry than you will ever know… blasphemy!

What I’m really trying to get down to, but can’t because there’s so much more that I hated, yes, hated about this movie was the end when the 4 girls get chased through the city by the men and hidden into a room by woman dressed in burkas. These women then took their burkas off to show designer clothing underneath of the most expensive taste. This had absolutely had no friggin’ point for the movie whatsoever. None. Zilch. Nada. F-IN NOTHING! All it did was take a piece of an entire religion, stomp on it, dig their heels in it, burn it and then take the ashes and mix it with turpentine to further the assault. COME ON HOLLYWOOD! (yes. I’m yelling. You should see me in person rant such things. It’s either hilarious or scary)

How can an entire group of writers, producers and directors assume women of muslim faith aren’t happy the way they are? Seriously. I was utterly shocked to learn that of all the 47 countries where the Muslim religion faith is practiced, many of those woman don’t agree with some of it’s practices. And that may be true, but not because of realistic issues, but because there’s not enough “colour” in their wardrobe; or there isn’t Prada marked across their linen clothes. Give me a fucking break. You failed Sex and the City 2.. Failed. How dare you assume anything about anything. You have no right, and it made me really really really really mad.

I can’t continue. I’m too pissed off. Thanks a lot.

P.S. Robin Hood wasn’t any better.

Not Just Anyone Can Play the Tambourine.

Every one likes music, and anyone who says differently is a huge liar, and you should kick them, ‘cause life without music is boring. Have you ever tried to go a day without listening to your IPod, or tape deck or whatever? Almost impossible. Music is cathartic, for both the maker and the listener. Don’t argue with me, I’m right. You know why I’m right? Cause it’s my blog. So there. Go get your own and argue against me, that’s fine. Actually, that could be fun.

See what I did there? I got pretty territorial, and vain and slightly argumentative. You know what that must mean?

Yup. I’m a lead singer.

This is what I look like BEFORE a show. Now, imagine what I look like after..

This is what I look like BEFORE a show. Now, imagine what I look like after..

The world revolves around me.

I know what’s best for whatever unit I’m in at the time, whether it’s a band, or my friends.
I rarely give up.

I hardly give in.

Even when I know I’m wrong, I don’t admit it, until a couple days have passed and you’ve forgotten who brought up that stellar point against mine and then I steal it and pawned off as my own becoming the hero.

Yup. I’m kind of a bitch.

Sorta a jerk, but you know what? I get the band paid. I get the better time slot when the most amount of people will be there, drinking; thus making more money.

I’m the one that can insult a crowd full of strangers over a P.A. and pull it off as a joke even though I mean every single word.

I’m the one that writes all those stellar lines that people quote as facebook status’. Ok, fine… only I quote myself, but still, no one can quote a guitar riff, can they? NO.

I’m also the person that’s most worried about image, hair, makeup, and shoes. Stage shoes are very important.

I also have way more people to pick from. (If you know what I mean)

I’m the front person that can order shots in the middle of a guitar solo.

I can sell my soul and buy it back at a deflated price, cause I’m that awesome.

My negotiating skills are far superior than that of a lead guitarist, which brings me to:

The lead guitarist.

I'm just going to assume the lead guitarist is the one with clothes pins... just a guess.

I’m just going to assume the lead guitarist is the one with clothes pins… just a guess.

Usually this individual seeks the fame and spotlight that the singer normally gets which can cause some uncomfortable friction, OR the necessary onstage entertainment one can’t plan.

Having most of the writing responsibilities and rarely getting the credit for it, guitarists can be moody and possibly more emotional than their counterpart.

Constantly in a state of creating, the guitar is often a third arm, thus girlfriends must be very understanding, if in fact they can keep one. If in some ulterior universe they do, don’t expect them to be good listeners. They tend to keep their ear to their incredibly loud amps causing less than perfect hearing, and attention spans are pretty much non existent. Needless to say, they get confused easily in common conversation.

Apparently fish only play guitar says the internet.

Apparently fish only play guitar says the internet.

The bassist however is probably the nicest person you’ll ever meet. Usually docile and shy, they are happy to be the 3rd wheel in any given situation.

Working with both the drummer and guitarist, this dude has a lot to think about on stage and often conforms to the bent over his instrument position with head banging to the beat.

Not everyone will know his name, but those who take the time to learn it will undoubtedly be a fan after buying he buys them a shot or two after the set. You can find him leaning up against the bar solo just because he’s that cool.

Bassists somehow make it out of ever working that hard. No merch time for this guy, no no… he’s more responsible for organizing the gear in whoever’s parents van like a mad game of Tetris and getting it home safely. Also, the first guy to set up his gear and the first to tear it down. This dude is one of the most organized of the band.

Oh sure bud, I'd be honoured to set those up for you... (piece of crap.. no good.. hate.. )

Oh sure bud, I’d be honoured to set those up for you… (piece of crap.. no good.. hate.. )

Not the drummer though. Not a chance. This guy rarely loads. As soon as the car pulls up to the venue, he disappears becoming one with the crowd, taking names and kissing ladies. That’s right, it’s plural.

A sweaty mess by the end of the set, the drummer is one of the most popular with the ladies for some reason. Why do we woman swoon over gross sweaty men? No clue. But it’s hot.

In charge of keeping the time for the whole band, he can be referred to as a leader of the pack in his own way, which definitely doesn’t go over well with singers. Come one though, even I have to admit that they set the tone and pace for every song and deserve some sort of glory.

In past years, it’s become clear that drummers are very picky about structure, sound and end product. Hard to please, like an over expectant parent.

Good luck being in a band. Keeping at least these four, (maybe 3, maybe more) people on good terms long enough to record and play an album is a task all in itself. To see the innards of a bands dynamic is probably one of the most interesting things to come across. Just don’t get involved. A mic stand to the face hurts.