Tuesday, June 29, 2004
It's official. The stewardess hates me.
If you could possibly see my face, it is frozen in shallow horror- jaw slung
low like a socket sprung appendage, eyes feverish and bulging, throat dry
with anxiety, slight loss of appetite. I am on board a flight from Toronto
to New York, and I official have been banished to the worst seat imaginable.
Centre seat.
Row 25 of a 25 row airplane.
No reclining seat.
Sandwiched between a moridly obese woman oozing body odour and a small
bladdered elderly businessman.
Seated behind a wailing 2 year old child / banshee sirening the ENTIRE
FLIGHT and undisciplined by its French speaking parental units.
To ease my nerves, I'm contemplating mutilating a lavatory smoke detector
and sparking up a socially unacceptable nicotine addiction.
I've always wondered if 'difficult' children could be sedated and left in
cargo hold carrying cages alongside transported pets or livestock.
I really hate the idea of paying for my drinks on flight. I figure, if the
pilot can drink for free, then so should I.
Check for postings if I actually land!
--------------------------
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
low like a socket sprung appendage, eyes feverish and bulging, throat dry
with anxiety, slight loss of appetite. I am on board a flight from Toronto
to New York, and I official have been banished to the worst seat imaginable.
Centre seat.
Row 25 of a 25 row airplane.
No reclining seat.
Sandwiched between a moridly obese woman oozing body odour and a small
bladdered elderly businessman.
Seated behind a wailing 2 year old child / banshee sirening the ENTIRE
FLIGHT and undisciplined by its French speaking parental units.
To ease my nerves, I'm contemplating mutilating a lavatory smoke detector
and sparking up a socially unacceptable nicotine addiction.
I've always wondered if 'difficult' children could be sedated and left in
cargo hold carrying cages alongside transported pets or livestock.
I really hate the idea of paying for my drinks on flight. I figure, if the
pilot can drink for free, then so should I.
Check for postings if I actually land!
--------------------------
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
Monday, June 28, 2004
The Absurdist interviews the Angry Spirit of Archduke Franz Ferdinand
Candles lit? check.
Crystal ball polished? check.
Library copy of Seance for Dummy's? check.
It is time, dear Archduke, to arise from your tormented sleep and air your grievences on the eponymous debut release of Scottish nerd rockers Franz Ferdinand!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Bleehaaahaa! Vas ist das? Vhy have you voken me up from death's sweet slumber?
The Absurdist: I have called you forth on behalf of English speaking, internet grazing blog readers the world over! The world requests, nay, demands your attention on this urgent matter!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Vat the hell is it?
The Absurdist: There is a foursome of twee Scottish musicians that has usurped your rightful name and are currently storming the world pop charts with danceable, yet top 40 radio friendly, rock melodies.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Fek? Yas yas, I have heard of these four Scots. They are getting good airplay on 66.6FM- The Rock: Heaven Ain't Got This Kinda Rock 'N' Roll.
The Absurdist: Homage or hijack- your thoughts?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Ehh, I don't mind so much. I think they play vell and put on a good show, yah. They guitar play is qvite tight and I can really boogie to that funky kick drum. They need to vork the look though. I'm not a big fan of their geeky clothes. Try something more imperial, vorthy of an Archduke!
The Absurdist: What are your favourite tracks?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: I like that one "Take Me Out". And that "Matinee" song. It gets my toes tapping. I am proud to have them use my name. I'm not too sure about that track called "Michael." I think the lyrics make me sound like a fag.
The Absurdist: Did you have any influence in having the band named after you?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Mmm, no. Not at all. Call it serendipity, but it has made me qvite the netherworld celebrity. Perhaps it karma for my untimely assassination? One could say, it's turn Hell into a sort of groupie heaven, if you catch my drift, eh?
The Absurdist: Dude!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: It's not all good though. It's made the other residents somevhat bitter. Adolf keeps bitching "Vere's my band? Vhen are those stupid vhite supremacist going to pay me some props?" Alvays with the kvetching! Albert Einstein is trying to get Malcolm McLaren to pull something together. That young vhipper snapper Ronald Reagan is trying to put together some kind of boy band. American pop music- bah!
The Absurdist: Do the Dandy Warhols count? They's been around for a while and quite popular.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: No! Spelling is everything! Next qvestion!
The Absurdist: Any thoughts on potentially manifesting on tour with the band? You know, kinda show some support.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Oh I do that all the time. I like to dance. I'm usually at the bar though trying to pick up the bartender with the huge bossoms. You know, it's been a while since the Archduke had the affections of an Archduchess.
The Absurdist: I though you said you had all those Hell groupies?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Hell groupies bite! I need tenderness!
The Absurdist: Well, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, it's been a real pleasure.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Yah. Keep on rocking in the corporeal world.
Crystal ball polished? check.
Library copy of Seance for Dummy's? check.
It is time, dear Archduke, to arise from your tormented sleep and air your grievences on the eponymous debut release of Scottish nerd rockers Franz Ferdinand!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Bleehaaahaa! Vas ist das? Vhy have you voken me up from death's sweet slumber?
The Absurdist: I have called you forth on behalf of English speaking, internet grazing blog readers the world over! The world requests, nay, demands your attention on this urgent matter!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Vat the hell is it?
The Absurdist: There is a foursome of twee Scottish musicians that has usurped your rightful name and are currently storming the world pop charts with danceable, yet top 40 radio friendly, rock melodies.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Fek? Yas yas, I have heard of these four Scots. They are getting good airplay on 66.6FM- The Rock: Heaven Ain't Got This Kinda Rock 'N' Roll.
The Absurdist: Homage or hijack- your thoughts?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Ehh, I don't mind so much. I think they play vell and put on a good show, yah. They guitar play is qvite tight and I can really boogie to that funky kick drum. They need to vork the look though. I'm not a big fan of their geeky clothes. Try something more imperial, vorthy of an Archduke!
The Absurdist: What are your favourite tracks?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: I like that one "Take Me Out". And that "Matinee" song. It gets my toes tapping. I am proud to have them use my name. I'm not too sure about that track called "Michael." I think the lyrics make me sound like a fag.
The Absurdist: Did you have any influence in having the band named after you?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Mmm, no. Not at all. Call it serendipity, but it has made me qvite the netherworld celebrity. Perhaps it karma for my untimely assassination? One could say, it's turn Hell into a sort of groupie heaven, if you catch my drift, eh?
The Absurdist: Dude!
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: It's not all good though. It's made the other residents somevhat bitter. Adolf keeps bitching "Vere's my band? Vhen are those stupid vhite supremacist going to pay me some props?" Alvays with the kvetching! Albert Einstein is trying to get Malcolm McLaren to pull something together. That young vhipper snapper Ronald Reagan is trying to put together some kind of boy band. American pop music- bah!
The Absurdist: Do the Dandy Warhols count? They's been around for a while and quite popular.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: No! Spelling is everything! Next qvestion!
The Absurdist: Any thoughts on potentially manifesting on tour with the band? You know, kinda show some support.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Oh I do that all the time. I like to dance. I'm usually at the bar though trying to pick up the bartender with the huge bossoms. You know, it's been a while since the Archduke had the affections of an Archduchess.
The Absurdist: I though you said you had all those Hell groupies?
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Hell groupies bite! I need tenderness!
The Absurdist: Well, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, it's been a real pleasure.
The Angry Spirit of Franz Ferdinand: Yah. Keep on rocking in the corporeal world.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Sorry for getting chai latte on your white leather pants, Mr. Steven Tyler
One sunny afternoon in Toronto, I almost bowled down Steven Tyler, large lipped frontman for undead rock band, Aerosmith. Now, the purpose of this missive is not to recant at length the storied history of Steven Tyler's numerous groupie conquests, fruits of loin, chart topping hip shakers or Run DMC collaborations. That would be a flat out 'No'. All I'm saying is that rock stars with cell phone armed, multi-drone entourage should not wear all white patent leather pant suits in from of clumsy, blackberry pecking internet writer types. Because that mix = trouble.
My apologies for the lengthy absence. I promise, next time, to only leave in the morning.
My apologies for the lengthy absence. I promise, next time, to only leave in the morning.
