The Cheeseblog

When I hear music that makes me bob my head like a pigeon, I don’t fight it. I listen and I love. That’s why I have a shameful heart-on for “senorita” by Justin T., “bootylicioius” by Destiny’s Child and “in da club” by 50 cent. Until yesterday, I was worried my head bobbing was only going to come courtesy of such manufactured pseudo-dancey hits as these, even when I am 70 years old with bad trousers, holding my arthritic finger to the pulse of pop, saying “this the shizzle” while the young folk laugh at me and shout “whatevs gramma” as they speed by on their air scooters.

BUT yesterday I heard “this love” by Maroon 5 and now I know I will be OK. These lads are the American, a-little-too-fleh version of Sloan (in vision, not in sound) but I don’t mind. They have messy, bad haircuts that cost $100, but their keyboard player wears a nice hat and they have some soul. I was a little put off when I read in their bio that they are friends with John Mayer. But everybody needs friends, right? That’s probably what they were thinking. That poor John – the girl with the wonderland-body has sold the rights to her “bubblegum tongue” to Disney and now he’s all alone.

Speaking of lines that make you go EEEWWWW in songs by artists you don’t like anyway, the “new” Nickelback (it’s in “quotes” because I am positive they use a song generator) single incudes the line: “let’s make love in the shower one last time.” I think it’s the word “shower” that bothers me. It’s too real. Everyone has a shower. I don’t want to picture Chad Kroeger in mine.

Also, he’s just one of those people that shouldn’t say “make love.” Actually, no one should say that in a rock song. I think it’s a pretty straightforward rule. Unless you’re transitioning to Celine Dion-style pop or you’re Bad Company.

The problem with Nickelback, if I was forced to identify the Big Overarching problem, is that their songs all sound the same so when you hear one, your brain goes into a crazy tailspin medley of all of them and then you can’t stop and all the lyrics get jumbled up and make even less sense and you get images like “i like your pants around your knees when we’re making love in the shower one last time” and then that fucking guitar solo kicks in and your eyes pop out of your head and no WONDER Mr. Kroeger is so grumpy! He has to perform this shit! If he smiled, he might never be able to stop laughing at how ridiculous it all is. Gotta keep a straight face.

I have the antidote: Maroon 5. Even the catt likes it and he is very particular. He never did feel the love from “hey ya.” But then, he’s also scared of fruit.

I wonder how many dollars the federal Liberals (under the Right Honourable Paul Martin) paid to have this designed?

Number One: Could Someone Please Make the Seventies Stop Happening?

Number Two: Does it scare anyone else that they’ve adopted Gordzilla’s “new era” whatnot? Hold on to your social worker, we’re going on a whirlygig!

The man I married not only has a copy of “Friends and Lovers” on his computer, he is currently playing it. On purpose. His own falsetto is not as clear as it used to be. This is what happens when you settle down & play house, kids. All the decorum goes out the window. I just scratched my ass.

The radio man said it’s raining. it should clear up on…Wednesday.

To Review

First, Value Village! teased me with a pair of Dayton boots in my size that were $199. Value Village! Value Village doesn’t pay $199 a month in rent! Luckily they were not as comfortable as I had hoped, or I would have had to throw a temper tantrum amongst the hipsters.

Attention: all women with size 10/11 feet (oh damn, I said feet). If you have lots of shoes, and you don’t wear some of them? Give them away! I love thrift store shoes and I get really grumpy when I look at the walls of size 7 shoes and in the size 10 and 11 section there are only shoes from 1978 (a bad year) that have tassels on them and worn out heels. Or mudshitbrown coloured boots with broken zippers. It is not fair. There was a pair of Clarks in a size 9. They broke my heart.

One time I got these shoes at Value Village. But the Value Village was in Langley! That’s a long-ass way!

However, on Friday I did find this shirt for $3.99:

…which I now know comes courtesy of Shorty’s the skateboard and humping turtle people.

Second: Full Moon! Walking from the skytrain to meet Saint Aardvark after work, an old man was riding towards me on his 10 speed bicycle. The bicycle was laden with pots and pans and a naked baby doll and a plastic Breezeway Basket and a dog leash and a plastic bag full of empty cans and a teddy bear with one eye. The old man looked right at me and said “You made it!” with the enthusiasm usually reserved for people who climb a tall mountain or swim across the world.

Third: Goose Man! A few blocks later, I was putting my camera away and passed a big, Jabba the Hut style panhandler. He said, “Have a wonderful night! Do you want to take my picture?” I thanked him and declined. I should have taken a picture, as there were two Canada geese standing right behind him on the cement partition and it would have been holy crap funny. But I didn’t think of it till it was too late.

Fourth: Starsky and Hutch! Sometimes – the bad times – I felt like I was in a Naked Gun movie or a verrrrry lonnnnng SNL sketch. It doesn’t always work to just toss willy nilly a wacky character or a piece of cucumber into a feature film. A clever, tight script with some continuity and by all means! Yes! Lots of humour! written in, that amuses me. That said, I did laugh out loud several times and Stiller & Wilson were very funny. Considering.

Fifth: Lebanese restaurant with gangsters! A friend was in town for One Night Only! and invited people to join her at a Lebanese restaurant downtown. We arrived shortly after 9 and just in time for the belly dancing! Hooray! Saint Aardvark was following the waitress to where she thought he wanted to go; a table of big, burly, short haired men. I saw our friend and stopped at her table. We drank some wine and ate some falafel.

The big, burly, short haired men had girls with them. The girls wore short dresses and tight jeans and very low cut t shirts that said things like: “Princess”. The girls had enormo boobies. They had bright, shiny makekup and long, flowing locks and stiletto heels. They paraded to and from the bathroom pretty much the whole time we were there. Finally there was a break and I could pee. I expected to find them all in there, doing lines of coke and polishing their cleavages. But it turned out to be just me and the one functioning toilet.

The band consisted of one keyboard player who played, at unnecessarily loud volume, by turns what sounded like Middle Eastern Pink Floyd and Middle Eastern Destiny’s Child. There was another guy who stood near the keyboard player, drinking a mixed beverage. We figured he was probably the keyboard player’s parole officer.

Sixth: Hopping rabbit toy! Not from Friday at all. From Thursday.

Seventh: Mannequin! From months ago, found in a very strange store in Port Coquitlam. Another time, a whole lot more about that. But yes, “pregnant” is written in the dust on this pregnant mannequin.

I just got handed a piece of warm chocolate banana bread. Saint Aardvark is forgiven for the Friends and Lovers but not for what is currently playing: “IM Me.”

Gah. Off you go, then.

Ximmortalxfariyx has a blog too. Go. Weep for your lost adolescence.

“ERRR god damn it! i really liked andre! AHH!!..well god fuck damn it!…god damn it u kno what?
ima go listen 2 Incubus “I Miss You”((acoustic))..cuz im mad sad pissed blah…::tear::..
i kno i HAVE to stop thinkin bout wut could of happend but i cant and it drives me crazy
everyday..like i cant sleep sumtymes cuz everything got fucked up.”

The pain never ends, Ximmortalxfariyx. It just gets more intense with every playah who plays yah. Remember: stay in school. The Andres of the world will never find you once you’ve graduated.

“Hate is such a b-e-a-utiful word..
Example sentance

“I do NOT CARE about enyone in my skool”

These people have made it so that blog entries get synthesized into speech and then broadcast to the masses through internet radio. It’s enough to make me want to type JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE for six paragraphs just to hear the BBC/Steven Hawking voice read it back to me.

But I probably won’t do that.