No, that is NOT an appropriate use for a Hamster!

This is what I look like when I know there is cake in my near future.

Wow……

I just realized something. Sure, go ahead and call me crazy…. but it appears that my brilliant and courageous strategy of updating my personal blog on a yearly basis, as opposed to a more traditional (dare I say cowardly?) daily or weekly frequency has proven to be what some would deem less that a profound success.

Phooey.

It also appears that I tend to use more words than truly necessary to illustrate just how lazy of a “C word” (I mean cheeseball, obviously) I can be when it comes to my blogging, which is truly bizarre since it is basically an activity one does purely for enjoyment. Some people play a musical instrument for fun, some people watch excessive amounts of Internet pornography, and nerds blog. Wait… I may actually participate in more than one of those activities. Oh well, someday I will learn how to play guitar…

This sentence was designed to bring to the attention of anyone unfortunate enough to bereading this blog that I am aware that I have already exceeded the maximum number of suspenseful “period trails”(you know, these things à ….. they are called ellipsis) that one can write in a day before being officially declared a maroon by well over 67 U.N. recognized governments.

Anywho, despite the powerful urge to follow the trend and write useless crap about kittens, crock pot recipes and “what my kids got up to over the summer”, I am going to write purely about myself and what I’m thinking. Oh great… here comes my virtual lawyer…

Official Legal Declaration

1: Stephen Vincent, from now on will be referred to as BLOGGER, hereby retracts any offensive statements made within his blog which may have offended other blog writers and/or readers of his personal blog.

2: Any statements made within BLOGGER’s blog were in no way directed towards a Mrs. ALMA PEDERSON and were in no way making fun of her touching and informative blog entries and the numerous photos of kittens and grandchildren with in no way abnormally sized teeth.

Sigh, that joke was both lame and extremely time consuming. Now lets get back to pretending I am interesting and talk about whatever the EFF I want!!

Some Cool Things That Have Occurred Since My Last Blog:

This last year has been very, very awesome in many ways. First of all, I should mention that myself (and the rest of the members of my band) have signed a publishing deal with Casablanca Media. This is all around an awesome thing, because it means that songs I have written or co-written can now be pitched for placement on television and film. This means I can get paid for work I have already done! Woo hoo!! We have already had a Tupelo Honey song called “We Are” placed a few times, one of which was on an episode of the new Degrassi show. It is very cool, but deep down I really wish I was the guy back in the 80’s who composed the theme for the attempted raping of Wheels. I would have called it “Theme for the Attempted Molesting of Wheels”. It has a certain ring to it, much like all the stars of “Extremely Painful Piercings: Volume 4” do, although those rings need aggressive sterilization if we plan on talking about them any further…

Speaking of pornography and the violation of Canadian television stars, I should mention that our publishers are AWESOME. Amy and Jana are some of the coolest people ever, and have definitely been very helpful to us. Even though they took us out to a vegan restaurant called Fresh…. Oh don’t get me wrong, the food was delicious, but it was hard to relax since at any moment a drum circle could have broken out and my chainsaw was very close to being out of gas. Haha, that was actually a great time and I’d definitely go to that restaurant again.

House MD is an excellent show.

Still on the subject of music, the upcoming Tupelo Honey album “Chinese Democracy” is still midway through production. We started writing for this record back in August 2008, scrapped over 30 songs, wrote a bunch more songs, and are somewhere around halfway through recording it. We’ve been lucky enough to have the time and freedom to make sure that this album both sounds amazing and is full of the best songs we’ve ever written, but it is definitely a long process. The album should be somewhere between 10-12 songs when we are finished and I can definitely say that it will be the best music we have ever made, and will sound even better than our last releases.

I’m going to stop this blog right here. Sure, I could keep writing more and more and completely sum up everything I’ve done since the last blog I wrote almost a year ago, but then I’d feel as though I’ve met my 2010 quota of blogging. The whole point of this moronic endeavor was to be a regular exercising of my writing “muscles”, so I really do have to act like a sound-tech and finish prematurely while disappointing everyone else involved.

If a Steve falls in the woods and no one is around to hear him, does he make a sound? Sure would, and that sound would be "F&#K!!!!!""

“Deep within the furthest reaches of my cerebral landscape, The Menace dwells.  It smoulders like an angry star; never quite bright enough to reveal an escape but so venomously hot…  Its malice stoked with every smothered whisper of escape, its lungs blistered from the searing atmosphere of the sarcophagus in which it eternally resides.  With teeth, fire and fury it sings and screams a most foul cacophony of both despair and delight in its own suffering, for it lives for pain.  It lives for the torturous overture it conducts from all those who perceive even the faintest echoes of its call.  It lives to hate, and to be hated. I’m also pretty sure that it wears a scarf whenever possible…”

 

The above paragraph is, well… drivel.  It is just a bunch of words strung together to try and deliver a simple message in the most convoluted and pseudo-artistic way possible.  In a word, it is pretentious.

 

Before I get to the point of this blog, (Editors Note: ok, before any of you urethral swabs have time to take a breath and make the obvious statement, I will do it for you; there IS no point to this or any other blog.  Thank you, now fuck off.  You may now return to your life of corn chips and chronic masturbation) let’s take a look at the true meaning of pretentiousness.  We will start our learning process in a pretentious way by following Directive #3 of the “Universal Guide To Pretentiousness” and consulting www.dictionary.com.

Pre-ten-tious

–adjective

1.	full of pretense or pretension.

 

2.	characterized by assumption of dignity or importance.

 

3.	making an exaggerated outward show; ostentatious.

 

So now that we understand what the word pretentious means, we can go back to the top paragraph.  “The Menace” refers to both my worry that I may in fact be somewhat pretentious, as well as to my pretentiousness itself.  I guess it is fairly obvious that I AM somewhat pretentious since I took the time to jam a butt-load of metaphorical nonsense down your unwilling and therefore un-moistened throats instead of just saying “I think I am sort of pretentious. Fuck.”  For this, I do apologize.  Pretentious people are often annoying to most, mainly because they give off the impression that they think they are better then you.  Holy shit, even italicized words look pretentious! I think I am starting to develop a complex…  Anyway, we must move forward if we ever intend to find a point to this blog so stop fucking around and start a new paragraph!

 

That’s better.

 

The 5 Prime Directives Of Pretentiousness

(As written In “The Universal Guide to Pretentiousness”)

1: Own and wear a minimum of 2 scarfs on a regular basis, regardless of the weather.

2: Never carry your wallet in any of your pants pockets.

3: Revel in the regular use of www.dictionary.com

4: Drink wine, and talk about how it tastes of many things that in no way resemble wine.

5: Never, ever, under any circumstances, laugh at bathroom humour, ever.

 

The above list is something everyone should read over a few times and memorize, for these 5 trusty directives can help you identify a pretentious person quickly before they trap you in a conversation about their classic shoe collection.  By doing so, you can disable them with a swift knee to the groin.  No matter how many Tolstoy novels one PLANS on reading, getting rocked in the stones still fucking hurts. 

 

Hey cool!  We are getting closer to the purpose behind the penning of this bulletin; this enlightening epistle, this observance of human b… OWWWW!!!!!  I mean, uh… this blog.  I mean, this thing. 

 

I am worried that I might be pretentious.  I mean I am no  5 Prime Directive kind of guy, but I am worried that I might be a tad pretentious, if not at least peculiar, and maybe a tad arrogant… Here is a list of things I have composed that might support this theory:

List of Things That May Indicate Pretentiousness

-I use www.dictionary.com all the frigging time, often just to find out what the word of the day is.

-I own more Miles Davis albums then I own dirty magazines.

-I am a total coffee snob, and not only go to starbucks exclusively, but I grind and brew my own starbucks coffee every morning and put it in a stainless steel thermos to keep it warm as to not “cook” the coffee on the machine’s warmer. (This one is a doozie, I know)

-I enjoy drinking fine wine, as well as fancy imported beer.

-I can easily afford cable, but choose to not have my television even hooked up with the local channels.

-I read books, and none of them are called “The Secret”.

-I find puns humourous.

-I think I am a fairly intelligent person, despite the fact that I have no formal education to back that up whatsoever (Arts Diploma in Music/Jazz Performance with a minor in jerking off sailors for change).

-I think attractive women who wear glasses are really attractive because it makes them look nerdy, and the removal of these glasses will unleash some kind of sex beast that speaks only in 5-syllable "dirty talk". 

-I try to say foreign words with the appropriate accent.

-I enjoy listening to the Dave Matthews Band.

-I have a blog. Uh oh….

 

Holy fuck!  That is one hell of a list of evidence that might condemn me to being known as a pretentious guy! If only there was a list of evidence to the contrary! Oh wait, there is.

List of Evidence To The Contrary: “Steve’s Only Hope”

-I don’t own more than one pair of shoes at one time, aside from runners and snow boots.

-“What is a dress shirt? Its either a dress or a shirt, it can’t be both!”

-I don’t own a scarf, and probably don’t know how to wear one without getting hurt.

-I do drink wine, but often alongside beer.  Nothing I say at this point comes close to anything resembling classy or intellectual.

-I drink starbucks coffee because it tastes fucking delicious.  I will apologize to nobody for this one. Eat me.

-I own a pair of Kiss novelty slippers with giant teeth on them.  Probably the tackiest piece of clothing in history.

-Megadeth, Black Sabbath, AC/DC, and Guns N’ Roses all rule.

-I once had sex while wearing a batman cape.

-I think a life of corn chips and chronic masturbation seems pretty cool.

-Bathroom humour is always hilarious. Sorry Mom.

 

Well after analyzing the above lists, the results are….inconclusive.  I don’t think I am truly a pretentious person, but  I definitely find some aspects of pretentious behavior to be cool. What it truly boils down to is that I think I am pretty awesome, but no better than anyone else.  I also think fine wines are amazing, but I can’t afford them.  In the end, one thing is crystal clear….

I JUST SPENT AN ENTIRE HOUR WRITING ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT I THINK I AM PRETENTIOUS!!!!! That makes me a complete wanker, and there is no debate over that issue.  Pass the corn chips.

 

***Editors Note: Once again it has been ages since my last blog, and I once again must apologize…once again. I seem to get carried away with these things and usually spend a good hour working on them.  I mean seriously, this is well over 1200 words here! Most blogs out there are daily entries that read something like “It’s Monday, had cereal for breakfast.  Still looking for a job, bowel movement was uncomfortable.  Probably gonna make spaghetti for dinner.  Pass the corn chips.”  I don’t want to write a blog about my mundane daily events for the sake of writing something each day, so instead I am going to treat this blog as more of a monthly, or hopefully weekly column of some kind.  I know, I am such a huge nerd.  Oh, and the thing about the Batman cape was true.  Who’s the fucking nerd now you wretched c**ts?!! Ahem, I mean…. I love each and every one of you people who reads this. Ha ha, take care and may your boners be strong and plentiful.***

 

 

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!