That kitten's head was gone when I got here...

I do believe that my blog, in fact, has red hair.

 

Like any red-haired child, full with the orange cheek stains of poorly-guided spoonfuls of Boyardee lunches, my blog has been, once again, completely neglected.  Luckily enough for me, neglecting an internet based cornucopia of my brilliant musings doesn’t come with shrieking cries about something to do with a forgotten birthday.  And that is why daddy comes back to feed the blog once in a while, usually about once a month. 

 

Ready for it;

“Awwwwww…. “

 

Ha ha ha! That was terrible! But sometimes a few bmx bicycles have to get run over in the pursuit of cheap laughs so I don’t feel too bad about it.  The owners of those bikes are probably responsible for more than an acceptable amount of vandalism so they deserve it anyway.  Sigh, those were the days…. I remember one of the best laughs of my childhood was induced by some brilliant artist who decided to draw a huge cartoon penis on the street in front of my elementary school.  If the perpetrator of that crime had the stones to come forward and take credit for his/her (let’s be honest, it was a boy) masterpiece, then they would have been regarded as a legend.  Nay, even a hero.  Probably the only kid in school to get a hand-job before the end of grade 5…  I’m sure I would have hated the bastard after a while, but all would have been forgiven each time I saw that hilarious wang saying hello to all the students as they poured out of those wretched yellow buses. 

 

I am spending way too much time thinking about a dick drawing.

Or was I not spending enough time thinking about dick drawings before this moment?

And that, my friends, is a quandary.

 

It’s bloody cold outside.  Cold enough that my testicles are renting that spare room right below my left lung, refusing to come out until their summer home thaws out a bit.  I was wondering why my underpants were fitting so well…  No matter, it’s time to actually write about something.  Speaking of which, I’ve been spending a lot of time over the last week writing with the guys in the band.  It’s been a writing-heavy last couple months, but it has definitely started to shift into a higher gear as of late.  Some of the material is really cool and rather different then much of our older songs.  The last 24 hours have yielded a crazy Motorhead-style rocker as well as an almost creepy, bluesy number with a whole apartment complex full of testicles.  They are still rough and unfinished, but there is a really cool energy about them and we are pretty excited to shape them into finished ideas.  It’s definitely nice to spend the cold parts of the year writing and recording in our little bunker, as opposed to driving all over the country and freezing our butts into singular islands of cheek. That just isn’t fun for anybody.  Anyway, I’m going to finish up there since I’m hungry and I’m going to need all of my cerebral focus to heat up a can of cow-flavoured chunky soup.

 

Word.

Betchya can't find my penis.

Holy screaming crotches, it has been yet another ice age since my last blog post. I don’t know how some people can manage to write something every day. Oh wait, yes I can; they have interesting lives. Haha, oh I’m being such a wanker. The truth is that I am lazy, and for that I will NOT apologize.

Sorry, I’ve been really lazy…

Anyways, now that I have made the commitment to start another blog entry, let’s get this wretched slut in motion! This last weekend has been nothing short of interesting. On the Saturday and Sunday, myself and the other whelps in the band were out filming a video with our good friends (and number one hookups for human horn. Oh come on, didn’t anybody watch Futurama? Oh. I can be SUCH a virgin sometimes…) from Blatant Films. Jon, Jeremy, Jesse, and Marc all made us stand outside in the cold for a good 8 hours on the Saturday wearing nowhere near enough warm clothing. And of course, it was ESSENTIAL for the video to have the bald guy (that’s me) not wearing a warm hat. There isn’t a proctologist with cold enough fingers in the entire world to live up to that kind of chill, but I won’t rest until I find one. I really hope it is Kate Beckinsale. Anyways, the video is for a song called “Not Alone” and I’m pretty sure that it will end up being super awesome. Those guys are extremely talented and work so bloody hard to make things happen so it should be pretty cool. Wow, that was an even more shameless plug then the ones sticking out of William Shatner’s scalp.

“Dear Mr. Shatner, please accept my apology for making fun of your VERY REAL hair. It is not a subject for ridicule, and it’s infallible awesomeness is truly inspiring to us all.”

Incidentally, if anyone wandering around rural Alberta happens to stumble across what appears to be two frozen testicles, feel free to email me.

The weekend definitely closed with a bang on the Monday night when we played at the Urban Lounge with The Hot Business and The Murder City Sparrows. Both of those bands are good friends of ours and it was really great to see them again. The Hot Business consists of three former members of Drive By Punch as well as some really talented musicians that I hadn’t yet met. They were an extremely cool band and I’m sure they will do some great things. And what an amazing crowd! No penis pump currently on the market can inflate your ego quite like the lineup of people outside the club on Monday night. A big thanks to Murder City and THB for being part of the show and making it that much better of a concert. It was awesome seeing so many people out and enjoying themselves whilst listening to really poor guys rocking out, and a huge thanks to whomever brought the great boobs in the blue shirt. They really tied the room together.

The most hilarious part of Monday night was the fact that at least 7 people (7 WHOLE PEOPLE!! That’s like…. Almost 8!!) came up to me and said that they read my blog! HAHAHA! SUCKERS!!! Ahem, I mean… thanks! As flattered as I am, I’m also kind of nervous now that I know some people read this. For example, If I happen to write something like this;

SHAWN KILGRAIN LOVES GAY PORN!!!!!

….it may result in someone getting a little upset. Luckily, Shawn really does love gay porn and there is no way anyone will be insulted by that. Haha, just kidding Shawn. You are so cool. Heck, pretty much Shatner cool.

Hold on one second here.

This is starting to sound like some regular, ordinary, no-sugar-added kind of diary entry. I hate those! Hmmm… how can I spice this up? Quick Steve, think!!!

“The young girl’s lower lip quivered like the last leaf on an autumn poplar as she met the full gaze of her lover, his brown eyes inviting their way into the most secret places of her mind. She trembled with both uncertainty and excitement as she slowly unbuttoned her white blouse, then unzipped her plaid school uniform skirt, allowing it to gracefully fall to the wooden floor. It was only a few summers ago when she broke her ankle climbing up the side of the barn while playing hide and seek with her cousins, and now she was entering womanhood in the same place. Like an exploding star in a distant nebula, the tiny red light indicated that the camera was recording. With one last look into the dark eyes of her co-star, she descended into a squat position; one hand gripping the foreleg of the mustang, the other firmly stroking the...”

WHOA!!! Maybe that was a little too much spice… Ok, I think I’ll wrap this up for today.

William Shatner is way better at everything then I am,
Steve

P.S. I’m going to try and write something way more often, perhaps sometimes every day if I actually have something to write about. Just don’t expect it to be good! In fact, I’m going to make SURE it sucks just to screw you over. HA HA HA!!

P.P.S. I’m not going to try and screw you over. The extremely small number of people who may read this are all I have. Please don’t leave.

Gravy is the blood of murdered teddy bears.

Q: What do myself and Bea Arthur’s Kegel muscles have in common?

A: They are both very lazy.

It has been an extremely long time since my last blog entry. If I had readers, I’d apologize. Since I don’t, I am eating a Kit Kat. Mmm… this is what dreams are made of. Well, my dreams include Charlize Theron hang gliding naked as well as kit kats, so I suppose that was a half-truth. I have been quite reluctant to post another blog, and not just due to a lack of motivation. My last one took quite a bit of time, and I felt it ventured fairly close to the realm of the “NotCompletelyMoronic”. Since most of what I write IS moronic, I was afraid of not being able to follow through with another just slightly better than average piece of drivel. Wow, that kind of sounds like the career of The Offspring, although it seems quite unlikely that they are afraid of releasing truly diabolical music since their discography is about as interesting as having a stegosaurus practice it’s floor routine in your rectum. Sorry Offspring fans, but they both blow and suck like the finest of mail-order brides.

Speaking of music, I received some good news today. Apparently my band is going to be opening for Papa Roach in Grande Prairie this Sunday. Now I’m probably not the biggest fan of Papa Roach, but I have seen them live and their show is really, really good. They also happen to be a very successful American band that needs a handful of somewhat local douches to warm up the stage for them, so the band and I are more than happy to make the trip. Besides, Grande Prairie has some lovely steak restaurants, and for some reason I buy about 40% of my year’s supply of eye drops there… what a tourist trap.

“Ma, when I grow up I want to be a Local Douche!”

Other than that, things are fairly routine in my vagina of the woods. (Everyone lives in the neck, no more room). Been writing quite a bit with the Tupelo fellas and I’m pretty excited with the direction the recent tunes have been going. I’m also getting excited for the show we are playing at the Urban Lounge on Nov 10th, mainly since the Murder City Sparrows and The Hot Business are playing with us; two great bands full of many great friends.

This blog entry is way less of an ill-informed rant then my usual ones, and is more of an update on my personal life… haha, if anyone ACTUALLY cares call your local suicide prevention hotline. I’m just doing this to get in the habit of updating this damn thing so that one day I will have a faithful reader. But until that day, I will be eating chocolate bars and looking at hang gliding vids on youtube.

Down with lying scumbags trying to sell you into stock market bailouts,
Steve

A Pompous Maelstrom of "Intellectual" Diarrhoea

Every now and then, each of us circles back to a question that plagues us all when we are marginally less sure of some aspect of ourselves. That question would be this:

“What the fuck am I doing with my life?”

Now I know you don’t necessarily have to use the beloved “F-Word”, or “F-Bomb” as some call it, to ascertain whether or not you are living up to your potential etc. Some of us, such as myself, like to use the F-word (let’s call it the “Fuck word” as to avoid any possible confusion) as a cheap way to instill some sort of artificial grit or toughness to their written word, and to come across super cool and modern. In reality, everyone knows I’m just a foul mouthed pu**y (HATE saying that word….) so I’ll just get back to locating some sort of point….

Oh yeah, here it is.

Wait, I lost it.

(Now first off, I would like to maintain that I know nothing about life and don’t pretend to have any kind of answers for those who find themselves asking the aforementioned question. I also know nothing of fashion, unless wearing garbage somehow becomes cool, but that’s not important right now. I’m just thinking “out loud” (quotation marks are cool, “bunny ear” hand gestures are the mark of a dildo) so to anyone foolish enough to read this blog, I cannot help you in any way whatsoever. It would be foolish of you to think so. Moron.)

**Editors Note: I just went out for coffee. I went to the Mermaid, and it was delicious. I will whole-heartedly endorse Corporate Monsters if they bring me deliciously consistent coffee, even if the stereo is pumping lifeless smooth jazz/Latin Coldplay covers. Holy Fuck-word is it good coffee. Okay, enough distractions. Gotta get back to the Nucleus. **

I have been thinking about what constitutes a worthwhile existence for a few days now, and I am no closer to a real answer then I was when I started. I have spoken to a few of my friends about their individual thoughts on their own lives and it is pretty funny to hear what they have to say. One friend is recently married to a beautiful girl, owns a very nice house, and has a great paying job, yet he still has a ton of things to complain about. His job bores and annoys him, the nice house is overshadowed by all the work that needs to be done on the fence for the dog, and he misses much of his pre-“made it” life. He thinks it is funny when I talk about being doubtful of my “artist” lifestyle. Sure, I have been lucky enough to have had some extremely cool experiences as a musician. I’ve performed in front of stadiums full of people, met and played with some hugely successful acts, have a fancy agent and manager, recorded in some phenomenal studios with incredibly talented engineers/producers, and several other really neat-o things. (I just read back that last sentence and I think it definitely makes me sound like a douche BRAG. I’m really not, so much of being a musician is un-cool, and it’s not like I’m a pretty singer who gets more vagina then a speculum with a cool moustache, so please don’t think I’m trying to sound cool. The use of the word neat-o pretty much napalmed any chance of cool happening.) But on the flip side, I am single (not unhappily single, but you know what I mean), don’t make as much money as my financially successful friends, and can’t really plan things such as vacations since my musical obligations outrank any alternate plans. The ragged, well-worn prostitute of a phrase “the grass is always greener…” certainly applies here.

So I’m still stuck with the thought “What the Fuck-word am I doing with my life?” bouncing around in my skull, as I am sure many of us are. In my relatively young 28 years of life on Earth (or Planet SteveRules, whichever you prefer) I have come to the (kinda) conclusion that the most powerful driving force behind me is passion. If you have passion for something, then it is in the doing where you find the reward, not in the end result. The western world is definitely very focused on Ends being the determining factor in one’s happiness, i.e.: If you have money, property, and toys then you are doing well. But if you earned all of those things by being gang-raped by mutant cacti, then I can’t really see that as much of a good time. I LOVE making music. When I think of some of the happiest and most rewarding moments of my life, I often think about when my band was recording in Toronto. Drinking shitty coffee with our producer Jeff till 7am while recording my bass tracks, all while the other guys are passed out on the couch; everyone so into the project that their bodies shut down long before their enthusiasm had a chance to wane. Listening to the instruments slowly meshing, overlapping; a zygote growing more and more cells until it eventually becomes a living, breathing, super gay analogy of a song. Everything about the creation of the music is so fulfilling, so life-affirming, that it leaves no “space for rent” for any thoughts of what else you could be doing in your life. There are a lot of areas of my life which desperately require more attention, but I definitely feel lucky to have some kind of outlet that makes me feel so alive. Music could never really be a hobby for me, because hobbies are just ways to pass the time between doing things you hate. Its Means, I think, that really make people happy. Then again, it could be Heroin. I have no idea, but I’ll stick to working on songwriting for now, and maybe a little blogging to exercise my inner (and outer) nerd.

Fuck-word.

Holy crap! I have a blog! I knew I should have used a condom...

Hey everybody, this is my first blog entry. Horray... ha ha oh whatever, I am marginally excited. I got the idea from watching an episode of the showtime comedy "Califonication" in which David Duchovny plays a brilliant author who hasn't written a book in 7 years (his former works were brilliant and hugely popular, one of them being butchered into a Rom/Com (that is slick industry jargon for Romantic Comedy. Neat huh?) starring Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes) and has started to somewhat revitalize his career by blogging for a website called Hell-A Magazine. Now that I've just spent several minutes plugging the shit out of a popular television show, I am going to get to the point; I thought it was cool. The guy basically expressed his disdain for the entertainment industry and society in general for a pay cheque. I mean really, all the nerds in the world (of which I include myself) would think that would be the gig of a lifetime.

Now I am not claiming to be smart, or to really have anything of value to say, but I think it is pretty cool that I can write whatever is on my mind and have it (in a way) published. Lets give this a whirl!

Ahem...

"I CANNOT FUCKING STAND THE BEATLES!!!!!!!"

Ha ha, that was kind of fun. And if I ever drive a car in England, you can bet your ass I'll be flooring it down Abbey Road. Now I don't feel the need to really justify my dislike for the Beatles. Sure, they were brilliant songwriters. Obviously, they have a bazillion fans. I just think that the sound of those songs makes me want to bludgeon fluffy bunnies with a frozen baguette. Nothing against them or their fans, it is just a personal preference thing. I also like Geddy Lee's voice, which 9 out of 10 people deem as pleasurable as "massaging ones clitoris with the business end of a barracuda" -Dame Judy Dench. Anyways, enough about that.

This is great! I haven't written one thing of value so far! WOOO HOOO!! Still, I've urinated words in the snow that were more intellectually enriching then most programs you see on TV so consider yourself lucky to have read this! Ha ha, just kidding. We both know that nobody has ever read this....

OK, so that was a good test run. Perhaps one day I will actually write about something! Till then, down with pants!