Thursday, August 28, 2008


Sometimes I forget that things that seem pretty normal to me are a little weird when I stumble out of my house in the morning to get a box of brownie mix. I just threw on my sunset rubdown shirt and tied a bandana around my head a la Brett Michaels (yes, I will stay in this house and continue to rock your world) to hide my dirty bangs and old ladies stared at me like I'm in some kind of skinny jean wearing gang. You really think I can carry a gun in these things? I can barely get my keys in my back pocket. And it doesn't help that sketchy dudes come out of the woodwork when I've got my sunset rubdown shirt on and not because they know anything about the band. They mostly seem to think a sunset rubdown sounds like a good idea. I have GOT to start wearing a bra.

Things are a little better now that I've got my brownies, but I am still feeling a little on the ornery side. Whatever man. It happens to everybody.

Hey, remember that band the Organ that I was really excited about hearing the dirty monday before last? Here's a video of Katie Sketch's new band Mermaids, live, performing, "Say You're Alive".

Katie Sketch took a little break from making heartbreaking sounds come out of her mouth to work on her modeling career but now thank jeebus she's back to music. It's hard to find any information on this group, I think because they're Canadian, but you can watch a video of her and her dog getting a cup of coffee on Easter.

I think the real question about Katie Sketch is, how can someone who has won the genetic lottery so many times over be so sad? Homegirl can just say to herself, "hey, I'm sick of being a rockstar right now. I think I'll just go model for Vogue instead. No big deal." So what is her damn problem?

My best guess: other people.
For example, the dude who introduced me to her music way back in the day, as if he knew that it would be the perfect soundtrack to him pissing me off. Nothing like sitting on a dude's bedroom floor with him while he doublefists whiskey and tries to teach you a bunch of shit about his record collection that you would probably remember better if you hadn't been so mad at him for not really trying to put his tongue in your mouth until he was already in a relationship with someone else a year younger than you after he made an enormous stink about being ten years older than you. At least I could listen to the Organ on the way home. I don't know if she deals with dudes like that, but ladies can be rough on your shit too. Anyway, this dude's spirit guide looked like this:

Good old Morissey. The cause of and solution to all life's problems.

Gotta go tune my craigslist violin.

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