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I read this article on The AV Club that was like “worst interview subjects ever” or something and one of them was when Sigur Ros was on some NPR program.  The band was being terribly uncooperative and super awkward and the interviewer was clearly struggling to engage them in any way.  Even if the questions weren’t particularly good, the band came off as a bunch of arrogant artsy nerds you just want to beat up.

At about 3:50, the interviewer asks the singer, Jonsi, about the fictional language “hopelandic,” that he sings in on a couple of Sigur Ros albums.  Jonsi, clearly frustrated with the question, replies, “it’s just fucking bullshit.”

After I read the AV Club article, I started reading the comments.  I love reading comments.  They’re the greatest.  You know when you watch a YouTube video and it has just like pages and pages of endless comments below it and you’re like “who the fuck reads these?”

I do.

I was reading the comments for the AV Club article and they were talking about the Sigur Ros interview, and a lot of commenters made a point of saying how the interviewer was terrible at his job and whatnot.

“Of course the band members were disinterested and vacant, the questions were awful!”

Then another guy replied to that with, “Yea, he totally should have started the interview with ‘tjúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúú?’”

I was dying with laughter.

So yea, internet comments are basically the best.  Remember CathyMay15?  She was this Norwegian girl that uploaded videos of herself singing various songs on YouTube.

Yea.  So yea.  But due to unwanted attention, she deleted her account.  Then everyone else on YouTube started reuploading her videos so they could stay online forever.

I read the comments.  They’re not pretty.

People are animals.  But really, is there even such a thing as unwanted attention if you put up videos of yourself on the internet?

When I first saw that CathyMay15 video, my first reaction was “boy am I glad YouTube wasn’t around when I was that age, otherwise I would have some preeettty embarrassing stuff up there!”

But the more I think about it, no I wouldn’t.

When I was that old I was terrified of interaction and could barely look people in the eye, let alone upload videos of myself singing to shitty techno onto the internet.

It’s weird how people put up videos of themselves and then are shocked and upset when they find people have things to say about them other than praise.  I mean these kids should know as well as anyone that every single video online has its share of brutally insensitive (sometimes brutally hilarious) comments, why do they think they’re somehow impervious to that phenomenon?

This was from a video about nutrition.

And it’s not even those drama types who are used to people saying they suck all the time who put videos of themselves up you know?  Yea, those theater folk are expected to find and exploit yet another avenue to get all of the attention they crave.  It’s the weirdos and the freaks and the geeks and all of the CathyMay15s of the world who, in any other time before YouTube, would have been content just to be left alone.

I guess we’re all guilty of it to some degree.  I mean, what’s Lemon Party?

Speaking of, we play our first show in a long time tomorrow.

Nice segue-way, by the way.  Nice.  High five for that.  Didn’t even structure this post that way, just free formed that shit right NOW.  Real smooth.  I just typed out an internal monologue.  Who does that?  I’m on some next level shit right here.

Is this lame? I cant tell.

Anyway.  I should delete that last bit.  But i’m leaving it.  Why?  What?  Huh?  Word.

We practiced tonight, ran through our set twice.  13 songs.  29 minutes.  Hahaha I think we’re expected to play for like an hour.  The practice went really well, we didn’t even mess up.  Which paradoxically is some kind of omen that means we’re going to fuck up a million times tomorrow.  Why does it work like that?  I don’t know.  Murphy’s Law I guess.

God I hope nobody comes.

I really do.

Not even kidding.

I’m listening to Wire now.  ”The 15th.”  Off the album 154.  I know Pink Flag inside and out, but I never really started listening to their other stuff until fairly recently.  I never really knew how much and often they changed their sound throughout their career.  It’s pretty crazy how they predicted the synth and keyboard sounds of the 80s.  154 came out in 1979.  Wire is a band that I admire a great deal.  They couldn’t finish and get to the next shit fast enough.  Progress and movement were everything.  The balls to do that, especially with all of the stone cold classics they have in their canon, is ridiculous.

Sigh, another attempt to write consistently on this blog gone by the wayside.

Uh…so yea, we finished recording it.  And also recorded two more songs.  The two new songs add up to about two minutes.  I like those two minutes more than the rest of Lemon Party’s catalogue.  But that’s just the newness talking, you’re always more hyped on the shit you just did than the old stuff.

Anyways, you can listen to the rest of EP HERE.

You can also listen to the two new songs HERE.

And here’s the myspace because why not.

I don’t even know why I linked to those sites, because presumably anyone who reads this blog has already been to those sites through facebook.

Yea.  Bullet list from now on.

- So Jacob has informed us that he’s moving back home to Hawaii come August.

- Effectively breaking up Lemon Party.

How can you leave this?

- So we’re just trying to play some shows here and there before he leaves.

- Secretly hoping that if Lemon  Party somehow gets moderately successful, he’ll stay.

- But that will never happen.

- Thinking about reassembling the remaining members and moving Hank to drums and Evan to bass and keep me on guitar.

- But that’s not even a definite thing because now I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do come August.  Stay here?  Move back to LA?  I definitely don’t have enough money to up and leave to another city.  It’s either stay or go back.  I don’t know.  It literally keeps me up nights.  I change my mind 100 times a day.

- Damn, I really thought this recording process would keep me motivated to update this blog.

- But it really only happens when I get in these weird moods that happen in between things.

- Like I was going to shower, but it was too late for that, I didn’t feel like reading, I ate all my jelly beans, it’s that time of night where I already scoured all of my frequented websites for content, Evan is on the xbox…all of these things have to (not) happen for me to be like “eehhh….maybe i’ll write on my goddamn blog.”

- Seriously, what the fuck am I doing to do when our lease runs up?

- Sorry, this is not a very good blog post.

Yea, it's a pretty janky setup.

Fast forward five minutes later…

“No, nononononono…please don’t tell me I deleted everything” whimpers Hank right after realizing he has deleted almost all of “…For Relaxing Times” off of the recorder.

Ten seconds later…

Hank frantically pressing the buttons on the recorder seemingly at random, trying to recover the lost tracks.  The phrase “I can’t believe I fucking did that I’m such a fucking idiot” becomes a sort of mantra.

Fifteen seconds later…

Hank is completely still, clearly distraught, fighting off the urge to break down into a heap of tears in front of me and Evan.  The two of us looking at each other wondering if he’s going to cry or not already.

Forty seconds later…

Me trying not to laugh at Hank desperately scanning through the recorder’s manual for “How to Undelete Shit” in the table of contents.

But STOP.

Collaborate and listen.

REWIND.

Let’s back it up to Week one, when we recorded TV Life and it turned out pretty good.  Week two, Evan wasn’t in town so we figured we wouldn’t be able to record anything that week.

But Hank had a sort of old sort of new (“sort of old” meaning Lemon Party had practiced it before Evan joined and Hank scrapped it anyways.  And “sort of new” meaning we revived fairly recently so we could record it for the EP) song called “Shoes,” which we figured we would be able to knock out a recording of fairly quickly without Evan.  So we did.  ”Shoes” is pretty much Hank’s baby, recording wise, because he sings on it, plays bass, egg shakers, and most of the guitars, not to mention he wrote it and recorded it.  Jacob played drums and I played a little bit of guitar on the chorus and second verse but not much.

In fact, we recorded “Shoes” so quickly, we had the gall to get started recording another song, the aforementioned “…For Relaxing Times.”  A song that I want to be stupidly loud on the recordings.  This was roughly the exchange:

- Me: Hank turn the drums up.

- Hank: It’s already loud!

- M: I want them louder.

- H: It’s going to be too loud.

- M: I want them louder.

- H: You don’t want them that loud.

- M: I want them louder.

- Hank turns the volume knob up a smidge.

- H: There, that’s loud enough.

- M: I want them louder.

- H: IT’S TOO LOUD!

- M: I want them louder.

etc and so on until I finally got Hank to turn them up to a volume that was satisfactory to me, and then he agreed it sounded passable.  He probably still thinks it’s way too loud.  But that’s how I want it.  I wrote the song wanting it to be really loud, and especially at the outro, where really the only thing I care about hearing are the drums and my guitar riff over it.  Everything else behind serves a strictly utilitarian purpose – just noise filling in the gaps between the drums and the riff.

I’m probably just being an asshole about it.  Like, I know Hank believes the drums are way too loud.  Evan and Jacob probably do too.  That’s a valid opinion, and a good one.  But I don’t care that they think it’s too loud, because that’s how I want it you know?  Actually, the fact that Hank thinks the drums are too loud is a good indicator of how loud I want it to be.

Like if you asked me ,”Hey Kevin how loud do you want the drums on this song?”  I would reply, “louder than Hank wants them.”  That can’t be a sign of a good bandmate, can it?  That he judges how satisfied he is with something by how much it upsets the other members?

But it all doesn’t really matter now, because Hank accidentally deleted the song and now we have to start over next week.  I wasn’t really that upset about it, because listening to it again, I was wishing we could record the drums again anyway because Jacob has a tendency to speed up and veer off time.  All the time.

Anyways, “…For Relaxing Times” is probably one of the simplest and dumbest songs we have.  No surprise, seeing as how I wrote it.  I feel mine and Hank’s songs are pretty indicative of our methods, the long and short of it being his songs are good and mine are not as good.

Usually, I don’t know how a Lemon Party song I wrote is going to turn out, because most of the time I haven’t written it yet.  I mostly come to practice with a riff or chord progression I’ve been playing for a while, and we hash it out from there.  Later, I throw some shit together haphazardly and viola.  A really lazy and dependent way to do it, I’ve come to realize.  Half the time when they ask me about it I reply, “I don’t know, haven’t got that far…” or “do whatever.”

Jacob: That’s good, what comes after that?

Me: I don’t know, haven’t got that far…

Hank: What’s the melody on that part?

Me: I don’t know, haven’t got that far…

Evan: What’s this song about?  Do you have any lyrics?

Me: I don’t know, haven’t got that far…

Anyone: What do you want me to play at this part?

Me: Do whatever.

“…For Relaxing Times” started out like any other song I wrote – I just had three chords and we just played them over and over until a riff started emerging that I knew I wanted to end the song with and then over the next few weeks I slapped some more chords on the end and that’s that.

Whereas Hank is an actual songwriter.  So he actually spends time with his songs before bringing them to us.  Consequently, he comes to practice with a fully formed song in his head with lyrics and arrangements and everything and then basically proceeds to teach us the song he wrote.  We take direction from him.  His song “Shoes” that we recorded last week is a good example.

Anyways, we recorded everything for “…For Relaxing Times” except Evan’s guitar and left, excited for next weekend to come so Evan could put his finishing touches and we can move on to the next one.

Week three arrives, and you know the rest.

OK RESUME.

Fast forward five hours later…

Me and Evan and Hank are walking past a liquor store.

I’ve spent the last four hours and fifty nine minutes wondering when it would be appropriate to make a joke about Hank deleting “…For Relaxing Times.”

Evan: Kevin, get a forty of Miller!

Me: Ah, I don’t know if I want one.

Hank: Hey how come you never try to get ME to get a forty?

Evan: Because I don’t have to tell you to get a forty, you’ll do it anyway!

Me: Yea, just like I don’t have to tell you to delete our songs, you’ll do it anyway!

Hank’s face.

I would say I wish I had a picture of it, but it wouldn’t have done the moment justice anyway.  I’m a dick.  I’ve come to terms with it.

I feel like I should insert a picture here to break up the wall of text but have no relevant ones so I found this on google image search.

Anyways.  Day 1.  After setting everything up and all that, we tried recording our song, “TV Life.”  The experience made me realize that keeping a recording diary of our EP could end up being embarrassing for all of us because it was such a fucking task to get this three and a half minute song done.  It took from like 1:30 pm to about 7.  But the embarrassing bits are the only things worth writing about, really.  So fuck it, it’s funny to us and we’re all (sort of) men who can take it.  Besides, it’s an account of what happened.  This happened.  What am I going to do if not write the truth on this blog, just be some glib and self centered asshole on the internet?  Shhhhh, I know.

- We all thought TV Life would be a breeze to record, because we all know it pretty well and it’s mostly an instrumental song with only one verse.

-But Evan came up with a new guitar part he wanted to incorporate into the song.  Problem being, he had just come up with it several hours before recording it.

- Hank is incredibly anal about being organized and knowing what to expect.  He hates being thrown curveballs.  He’s sort of a recording pro, while the rest of us don’t know how to operate the mixer that we record through.

- Evan messed up while recording his guitar part.  A lot.

- Hank got incredibly agitated with Evan.

- Evan got incredibly agitated with Hank.

- After several false starts, Evan got incredibly agitated with himself.

- Note: To be fair, he did warn us that he gets very nervous and prone to making mistakes in recording situations.  What’s that old physics law that says something like observing an object will cause it to behave differently by the very nature of being observed?  Yea it was kinda like that I suppose.

I get so fucking nervous you don't even know.

- At one point after Evan’s umpteenth “I messed up, start it over,” Hank punched the wall.

- Yea, it got pretty tense.  I was just sitting next to the drums trying to calm them both down and ease the tension.  They wouldn’t even look at each other hahaha.  I was already finding the humor in the situation.

- Evan still messing up.

- Jacob leaves.

- “my hands are sweaty I can’t play it”

- Exasperated Hank: Why don’t you play something else?

Indignant Evan: Because it sounds better this way, Hank.

- “I messed up again start it over”

- When does McDonald’s close?

- “I messed up again start it over”

- I can only assume at this point Evan’s hands are only getting sweatier.

- “I messed up again start it over”

- “Siiiiiiiiiiiigggghhhh”

- Hahaha but that’s all part of being in a band, isn’t it?  A Saturday evening spent arguing over guitar tracks and microphone placements and stuff is a Saturday evening well spent to me anyway.

- BUT I will say this, Evan’s new riff is one of the more complicated guitar parts in the whole Lemon Party oeuvre, and if he had more time to practice it I am confident that it would have gone more smoothly.  Also, his riff is a lot better than the one I was making him play before, which was pretty boring.  The song is better for it.

- So anyways, that was the first day.  We did the vocals in roughly the amount of time it takes to listen to the song, and they suck.  I begged Hank to put tons of reverb and delay on it to make it more listenable.  I also begged him to turn the volume on them way down but the bastard wouldn’t.

- I put TV Life on the widget to this blog.  Hank doesn’t want anyone listening to any of the songs until they’re all recorded, but like I said that will be in seven fucking weeks so.  Yea.  Besides, I guess it’s not the “official” version of the song because Hank’s still messing with the levels and shit.  And I won’t put up any more of the songs we record on this blog until the whole EP is presentable.

- Hank is the only one who knows how to do anything.  Seriously.  And i’m including knowledge of how to play musical instruments in that.

- So yea there it is if you want to listen to it.  Hank on bass (Hank if you’re reading this I think you should add another bass track), Jacob on drums, me on guitar and attempting to sing, Evan on second guitar.  But know that it will sound a little different when everything is done.

- (Un)Interesting note: my guitar that starts the song was actually edited into the song after everything was pretty much done, because Jacob couldn’t keep time and I couldn’t play the riff on the weird staggered rhythm he set for me at the beginning of the song.  Hank the editing wiz just made me play the riff three times without any accompaniment after we recorded everything else and just copied and pasted it into the beginning of the song.  It worked out pretty good, don’t think anyone can tell.

THE END

Me, Jacob, and Hank doing something stupid and pointless. Lemon Party.

We mainly wrote and played Pains of Being Pure at Heart rip off songs.  Which is bizarre, because Hank staunchly refuses to play any cover songs, when everything we did at first was pretty much that.  Also, I love cover songs and think we should cover a whole bunch of stuff.  We don’t play any of the early shit any more, except for one.  Which is the most blatant rip off of any song I’ve ever heard, and I wrote it.  It’s worse than a cover.  Anyways, we added our friend and roommate Evan on second guitar a couple months ago and are now trying to record an EP of sorts in our practice space.

Lemon Party with Evan. Mad photoshop skillz.

Since I realize that the amount of years I have to just fuck around and not do anything with my life (recording an album of my terrible songs definitely being a shining example of that) are starting to dwindle, I figured it’d be sort of nice to document this moment in our lives.  In blog form.  Because yea, probably never gonna do anything this self-indulgent again.  My sister is transforming young minds and hearts being a teacher in Honduras, all my friends are doing stuff like teaching English in Japan or getting fancy jobs with salaries and rubbing shoulders with bigwigs, and I’m doing this.

On second thought, Jacob has a flip cam, that would sure as hell be more efficient than this.  And less of a slog to get through for whoever reads it.  Sorry.  Also, it’s yet another gimmick i’m trying to get me to write on here more regularly.  So yea.  Lemon Party recording diary.  I hate the word diary.  But that’s what it is.  Stay tuned.  Or don’t.  It’s your life, i’m not going to tell you what to do.  Stick up for yourself, you pussy.

Several months ago, I needed a job.  I also broke my arm.  Against his better judgement, my pal Andrew hired me to work at the backstock of American Apparel, because nobody else would to hire anybody with a broken arm.  And it wasn’t like “hey I have a broken arm but it’ll be better soon!”  It was more like “by the way, I just broke my arm two days ago.  I’m going to have this cast on for about eight weeks.”

The funny thing about being a totally unqualified idiot working at a clothing store – where the only reason you work there is because your good friend handed you the job – is that everyone else who works there assumes (and rightly so) that you know about clothes.  So when people say, “Hey Kevin what do you think of this skirt?”  or “Have you seen the new leggings?  They’re so cute!”  they really have no idea that my viewpoint is no more valid than a blind person’s.  Actually that’s going too far, my opinion would probably be worth more than that of a blind person.  At least i’d like to think so.  Anyway, whenever anyone asked me to make any aesthetic contributions, I would just alternate between positive and negative and it seemed to work most of the time.  ”Oh man I love the new skirts, they’re so rad” or “No way dude, the new leggings are so gross!”

Hmm.  I’m totally laying it on thick with the “I totally should not have been working there haha so weird right guys” vibe.  I’m really just trying to say even though I’m quitting, I was very grateful for the job.  Even  more grateful that I was sequestered in the back, unseen by customers.  I know generalizations are the mark of short sightedness, but customers are dicks.

Ok.  Hmmm what else is going on that no one cares about….

Living at 25th and mission is so different.  I sound like a n00b but still.  Dudes getting shot and stabbed a couple steps from your front door is not something i’m used to.  In the richmond, any loud noises coming from outside could be dismissed as an old asian lady digging through your trash and crushing all the soda cans.

I organized my iTunes by song length and am listening to songs under two minutes long, and “Feeling” by The La’s is one of the most played.  ”There She Goes” is obviously their best-known song (and for good reason, I can’t think of a better guitar pop song in existence.  There are no verses in that song, it’s just all chorus and a refrain), but their whole self-titled is great.  Lee Mavers has got a great voice.

I love the black dude dancing at 40 seconds in.

One of the perks of working at the backstock of a retail store is that there’s an awful lot of downtime.  To help pass the time, the management (or whoever) gave the backstock employees an iHome type thing.

Like this, but much cheaper. If you like your treble up to the max and your bass below zero, this is for you.

Popping in your iPod (see what I did there) while working always makes whatever you’re doing more bearable.  But, the iPod player thing also charges your iPod while you’re playing it.  Like I said, I get paranoid about that.  So a lot of times, I just turn on the radio.  NPR is good.  But sometimes they play that Prairie Home Companion show, and that show is the worst.  So I scan the radio stations, looking for the latest in what’s new and popular.  Because the way that the internet and 1000+ cable channels have forever changed the dissemination of information, we have lost mass, homogenous culture forever.  Good or bad, I must say I kinda miss it.  Groups like NSYNC selling more than two million records in one week will never happen again.  Like how many views would Ricky Martin’s “Livin La Vida Loca” video have gotten on YouTube if that site was around back then?  I’m betting way more than Lady GaGa and Justin Bieber combined right now.

Quite possibly the most necessary "Best Of" ever.

There are way too many bands for me to pay attention to right now to notice the big pop stars anymore.  There are too many television shows i’m trying to keep track of.  You just can’t get all of us as a whole to care about one thing that much anymore.  A number one song back in the day would literally have been inescapable.  The Macarena?  Who Let The Dogs Out?  Even fucking Mambo Number Five?  I can’t envision anything dominating the whole country so completely and making us its bitch again.  If Lady Gaga is the shit right now, how come I don’t know what her latest single was?  And that’s probably a good thing, now that I think about it.  But in an attempt to get connected with the zeitgeist again, I’m going to listen to what most of the public is listening to.  Populism has its charms.

Billboard Top 100 Pop

I’m not doing number one because despite its chart position, I haven’t heard it on the radio at work yet. So we’ll skip to number 2.
Chart position #2: Katy Perry – Teenage Dream

Eh.  Number two in the country?  For real?  This is the least catchy pop song i’ve heard in a long time.  Wouldn’t even crack the top 40 back in the 90s.  It starts slow, tries to build up in the prechorus to the staggered and dramatic delivery in the chorus, but I never really got into it.  Totally has to be a case of a subpar single that gets to coast on the goodwill of the artist’s previous hits.  I’m guessing this is like the 3rd single off Katy Perry’s album, because this is just weak.  Why do popstars like Katy Perry even release albums anymore?  If popstars are disposable by nature, then they are only as good as their singles.  Who listens to the buried eighth track off of a Katy Perry album?  They should only release digital singles or EPs or something. No one cares about Katy Perry’s “artistic vision” and the “concepts and themes that tie the album together.”  It’s not like people are buying Katy Perry and Justin Bieber vinyl records or anything.  I will say this song is miles better than that “California Girls” song.  Fuck that song, that vocal riff she does at the end of every chorus is just awful.  It just might be the most accurate sonic representation of the word “obnoxious” out there.

Billboard Top 100 Hip-Hop and R&B
Chart position #15: Eminem ft. Rihanna – Love The Way You Lie

Out of all the Billboard Top 100 songs i’ve heard recently, i’ve heard this one the most.  The irony of Rihanna singing the chorus to a song about domestic abuse has been pointed out many many times, but still.  Did Eminem seek out Rihanna for this, thinking “who should I get to sing the chorus?  Rihanna’s perfect for it!”  Or did she hear it and go “I need to get on this track, I am perfect for it!”  Either way is kinda fucked up.  Anyways, this is a very dramatic song, about some heavy shit.  But there’s this one line that cracks me up – and this probably says more about me than anything else – but at the end of the second verse I think, Eminem raps “But you lied again/Now you get to watch her leave/Out the window/Guess that’s why they call it window pane”  I just picture Eminem heaving his girlfriend out of a fucking window, looking out the window he just threw a person out of, taking a dramatic pause, stroking his chin, and then saying “I guess that’s why they call it window pane.”  What?  Why?  How did Eminem come to the conclusion that because he hurled Rihanna out a window, that’s why people call it window pane?  He needs to add another verse to this song explaining himself.  Or the alternative is, she left on her own accord, but chose to exit through the window instead of the front door.  Or any door, really.  Still, how or why Eminem would deduce the etymology of window pane by watching someone (obviously struggle to) leave through a window baffles me.

Billboard Top 100 Country
Chart position #5: Kenny Chesney – The Boys of Fall

God knows we need more things glorifying the under-appreciated high school football player demographic.   Those poor fellas can’t catch a break, getting picked on at school all the time and being ignored by all the gals down at the malt shop.  Not that i’m anti-football players or anything, but if I was, this song would only fuel the fire.  This song is very specific, kinda weirdly so.  It really sounds like only people who play football would or could get into this song at all.  I mean, the lyrics are so specific that even a football fan couldn’t relate to it.  It has this whole “if you haven’t played, you’ll never know” vibe going on.  I starts out with “When I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass I’m back in my helmet, cleats, and shoulder pads.”  And the chorus lyrics read like the dialogue of a player at a game: “It’s call it in the air/alright yes sir we want the ball/I got your number/I got your back/When your back’s against the wall.”  Even if I was a football player, why or when would I ever listen to this song?  Before games to get pumped up?  Except this song is more like a romantic ballad to football players, so no one could ever get pumped to this song.  Maybe football dudes play this song to set the mood before they circle jerk.

Billboard Top 100 Rock
Chart position #5: Mumford & Sons – Little Lion Man

Uh God, modern rock is so damn boring.  As far as Billboard Top 100 goes, the pop and hip-hop and r&b and even country is just so much more interesting.  Radio rock is all just so plodding and the production is just so saturated and blaaaaand.  Every distorted guitar has that sterilized grunge tone, the drums are so rote and routine, the bass just plays root notes, all the singers are trying to sell some pseudo-rebellious swill, etc.  Either that or it’s Coldplay or something.  No wonder all of the Now That’s What I Call Music compilations just tack all of the rock tracks at the end of the disc as an afterthought.  At least pop and hip-hop give me some snappy synths and whizzing keyboards and drum machines to distract me from the routine songwriting.  Oh wait, this is a folk song!  Sung by an obviously English band.  I like it more than it deserves to be liked just because it’s not the same buttrock.  But I don’t reaaally like it.  Also, the “I really fucked it up this time” reeks of the pseudo-rebellion mentioned earlier.  Just seems like a calculated attempt to say “That’s right, we’re going to say ‘fuck’ in the chorus.  What do you think of that!  HMMMMM?”  Whatever, it’s fine.  And this post was a waste in hindsight.  But I already typed it out, so it’s going up.  Story of this blog.

Someone shoot me in the face.

HOW PRESUMPTUOUS IS THAT?!  The boss just went “…uh..yea, great!”  Click.  Won’t be hearing from her again.  I am about 93% positive she heard me palm my forehead and let out a weary “fuuuuuuucccckkkkk” right before she hung up, too.

Uh God, fuck phone interviews.  So unnatural!  Well all interviews are, but I was never so uncomfortable in my life.  And awkward.  And I don’t mean comedic awkward, I mean you could hear my sweaty face fight to get an audible, coherent sentence out of my retarded throat, which was trying to choke itself.

Michael Cera is irresponsible for the way he falsely portrays the positive consequences of severe awkwardness.

Sigh, it’s times like these when I wish I was the Dos Equis man.