this morning i found a horrifying tube of lip gloss on my friend's kitchen table. it is pink cotton candy flavoured sugary goo that comes in a tube painted with a cheerleader out of her mind. the caption reads "i don't kiss and tell...because i don't remember". my friend nearly lost his mind, because he thought it belonged to his six year old. it didn't and i now have it. i plan on posting a picture as soon as i figure pictures out. it's....demoralizing? yeah, i think that's it. it could be interpreted in at least three ways, all of them depressing. really, the thing i hate the most about being a girl is the sense that i have to be so vicious sometimes in asserting myself. today i was put in a position at my job where i was almost expected to back down and take the blame. quit. instead i got angry at my boss for treating me condescendingly and irrationally, and in the end he pretty much made me cry, but i proved my point and i still have my job. the music world is so fucking vicious. it takes pride in it. everybody wants to feel like a survivor. everyone wants to state a certain time period when music was the greatest and the kids hadn't sold out and everything was wonderful. fifties music. sixties. disco. soul. rock. wierd remixes of bad eighties bands. jazz. pretentious pseudo jazz. local shit. as rare as possible. as clean as possible. on 45 if possible. everybody has their idea. everybody has their same version of the same lecture ( i get to be the lucky recipient).
the real point is that i'm exhausted with all this being female and this being a musician. proving myself every five minutes. trying to remain calm and centered and unriled. looking people right in the eyes. looking for tricks and underestimations. going slowly because you can't just hand out your number to a million guys. you have to filter people in with channels. today i got home from a stupid show that didn't work out after three days away from home sleeping on couches and found that my floor was covered with miscellanous shit, notably most of all tampons and beer bottles. and cassette tapes. go figure.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
cotton candy lip gloss, beer bottles and tampons.
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5 comments:
I'm just sick to death of talentless bimbos on the music charts. They've become a dime a dozen. Someone make them go away. And yes, Fergie, that includes YOU. You are not forgiven for that horrible "My Humps" song.
MY HUMPS, MY HUMPS MY HUMPS MY HUMPS!!!!
(check it out!)
*runs away quickly*
[p.s. you realize that "my humps" won a grammy, right? 'tis a sign of the decline of the empire.]
it is a signal that we have reached the end of culture. i think we should just scrap it all and start over. well... maybe not all of it. we should keep written language since it will shorten the necessary Dark Ages before the next Englightenment.
no no this is hilarious.
first, watch that awful london bridge video. turn the sound down and say rude things if you must. i recommend it. THEN watch gwen stefani bring it a NOTCH LOWER by IMITATING her in her stupid yodeling cover of the sound of music.
fuck the grammys. apparently now they mean NOTHING.
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