Happy Halloween!

OMG we are soooooo excited! LMFAO!!!!!1123

No, seriously, we love Halloween. This year I'm reprising my "slutty zombie" costume for the "sluttier zombie" version and I've heard talks of red riding hood and vampires circling the rest of the gang.

This is what we're doing:


We're seeing The Mistits, a lady-led comedic Misfits cover band play their LAST SHOW EVER at Bar Pink. 3829 30th Street, North Park San Diego, CA, 92104. They play at 9:45. I keep hearing rumors about a certain president and an even more certain bloodbath. It's gonna be killer. Another bonus is that Paul is going to get really drunk and roll the dice. When I say roll the dice, I mean on how he gets home. OH SNAP!

'stina

Hump Day Short List: How Presumptuously Un-sexy

Last night I hit up this new sushi place with my buddy and it was pretty decent. That little place in the Ultra Star shopping center. When I say decent I mean the owner dumped sake down our throats and it was fucking sweet. The only thing amiss was the music,these guys had that Craig David CD from a couple years ago on repeat before launching into the Katamari Damacy soundtrack/Japanese techno pop.

What the fuck happened to Craig David, British R&B boy wonder of the 2000's? He had that one song, "Seven Days:"

(fast forward through a minute of bullshit)



and then that one other song, "Fill Me In" (alternately titled "That's What She Said"):

(fast forward 35 seconds of bullshit)



This guy is talking about red wine in a jacuzzi and is wearing a turtleneck, I feel like I should be all like "yeeeaaaaaah!" but all I can think about is a 32 of Arrogant Bastard at the lagoon with a dude wearing a dirty band shirt. Maybe my idea of sexy is wrong, but I think some of history's best-known songs about getting sexy or designed for getting sexy are laughable at best.

Rod Stewart's "Do You Think I'm Sexy:"



Dude, are you kidding? This is what the song translates to in the modern world: "So, I live with my mom or whatever it's not a big deal can I borrow your phone to call her so she doesn't set the alarm in case I don't crash at your place? Cool. Can you get me a Jack and Coke while I call her? Oh yeah, I'm out of cash I'll make it up to you later, wink wink." Fuck you for creating an army of douche nozzles, Rod Stewart.

Lastly, The most unsexy sexy time song ever, Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On:"



You know what's really sexy? South Park's pan flute cover of Gary Numan's "Cars." Yeeeeeah.

'stina

hump day shortlist: dedicated to the one I love

Okay guys, it's time for yet another confession: I can't get enough Sarah Palin.

I like to think of it as a "hate-crush", i.e. I hate everything she stands for and yet I can't look away. I don't know what I'd do without her, besides feel less regularly insulted by McCain's obvious misogyny. Sometimes I learn things about her and think they must be joking, like that thing about hunting for wolves in a helicopter. I thought that was too crazy to be real until about a week ago when I heard that she also offers a bonus to hunters who can bring her the severed foreleg of a wolf.

It was then that I realized: Bitch is a fairy-tale villain! And didn't you always love the villains?

So who's the fairest in the land?


Consignment shop you say? How indie.

But this wolf thing really got me thinking. This could be trouble for about five or ten bands off the top of my head and probably about 500 more, for one simple reason: wolves are pretty rad.



Today's shortlist is brought to you by wolves everywhere.

Sea Wolf -"You're a Wolf"


Patrick Wolf-"The Libertine"


Wolf Eyes- A bunch of goddamn noise


Peter Wolf-"Lights Out"


Is it too cliche for me to close out the list with my favorite Wolf band?
Too bad.


damn, I love singing along to that riff, the one that goes nerrrr-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-nerrrr-ner-ner
megan elizabeth

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: Did you kiss my fucking broad, bro?

So I have been waiting years, basically, to get in a bar fight. It finally happened. It was more like a verbal altercation between two other people that I jumped into, so not so much a bar fight (I didn't throw a shoe) as a bar argument. Bargument.

To make a long story short, I told some dude to go fuck himself because he kept getting in my acquaintance's grill about him allegedly drunkenly kissing his "broad" before they were even together. Homeboy tells one of the three dudes I'm with to "tell that bitch to shut the fuck up." I don't stand to be sassed in any way and I for some unknown reason forget that most women are okay with being clubbed over the head and dragged back to the cave. Bitch, you don't ask me what I been doin' you wait for my request to sit down. While trying to macguyver a shank out of a bandana, a lip gloss tube, and a serrated hunting knife, I began wondering where he got his huge dick and manners from and it occurred to me he probs. learned it all from a Nickelback video.

This video here is for a song called "Figured You Out:"


The first time I heard that auditory gem was in a strip club in Vegas. That says a lot. Like daddy issues. Anyways, Nickelback is everything that is wrong with America. I know they're Canucks, but still. Nickelback makes me want to cut off my own legs and run a marathon, using my own severed legs as crutches.


These guys embody the lifted truck/tribal tattoo/too much bicep lifestyle. One of my major grievances besides the obvious onslaught of suck is the dude's voice. Chad Kroger sounds like his throat is lined with battery acid filled polyps that explode every time he groans brilliant lyrics such as:

I like your pants around your feet
I like the dirt that's on your knees
I like the way you still say please
While you're looking up at me
You're like my favorite damn disease

I love the places that we go
I love the people that you know
I love the way you can't say no
Too many long nights in a row
I love the powder on your nose

And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out
Now I did
You wonder why
And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out
Now I did
You wonder why

I like the freckles on your chest
I love the way you like me best
I like the way your not impressed
While you put me to the test
I love the white stains on your dress

I love the way you pass the check
I love the good times that you wreck
I love your lack of self-respect
While you're passed out on the deck
I love my hands around your neck

someone please fucking kill me,

'stina

moar LOLz

k so my life is a total shitstorm right now so I have nothing to post about really except for this: Ponygirls are not the only makers of LOLKrugs.

moar LOLz

I am a big fan of "Can I lift my dress up for you?"
The answer is yes, yes of course you can.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a couple of midterms to continue to procrastinate on and writing is really too close to doing work for my comfort.

the original LOLKrug
the Megan's birthday LOLKrug extravaganza

Here's a new Sunset Rubdown song that they're calling "Dragon" or something right now.

I think I have to go throw up. uggggh.

take me to the dragon's lair
megan elizabeth

I Feel Like the Mother of the World

I watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull for the first time last night. I was super excited for it to come out, but I was out of the country when it was released and by the time I came home all the hype had kind of died and I never got around to seeing it. Even with my extremely lowered "As long as it's better than Temple of Doom i'll be fine with it" expectations, I was still disappointed. I wish someone would just fucking kill George Lucas already. Doctor Bubastis is officially calling for that man's head. I don't care that you ruined Star Wars because to be honest I never gave a fuck about Star Wars, but fuck you for fucking with Indy. How can someone with so many chins be so stupid? I swear to god he's got a whole loaf of bread lodged in his throat.

Anyway, the past couple of days i've been busy planning my ultimate escape from San Diego. Why do people call this shit heap paradise? Yeah, walking out of work at 10am into 95 degree heat in October is super fucking awesome. I had to show a good friend of mine around the city last weekend, and I realized how boring this place really is. Don't even get me started on the sorry ass state of our music venues. This bitch originally comes from Florida, America's asshole, and even she wasn't impressed. I'm open to any moving suggestion. Right now i'm thinking of Portland, Vancouver, Oakland, Baltimore or Nashville.

Well, since i'm still fucking here, there's a few shows on my radar for the next few weeks:

Mountain Goats with Kaki King at the Belly Up on the 28th. You should probably go to this if you're 21+. If you're not, you probably listen to shitty music anyway.

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists with Titus Andronicus at the Casbah on the 30th. I've seen Ted Leo a few times, but i'm iffy on this one because his new album sucks...except for the Sons of Cain, which fucking brings it. Titus Andronicus is pretty cool, so I may go. If you dig upbeat or noisy as fuck rock check it out. That is, if you're not too busy taking it up the ass at the Thrice and Alkaline Trio show that same night. FUCK, IT'S LIKE, INDIE ROCK, WITH SICK METAL LEADS.

Later shows include Subtle at the Casbah on Nov. 30th, which everyone should go to because Subtle is ridiculous and awesome and put on a great show.

And, naturally, Wu-Tang Dec. 5th at the House of Blues.

All of these shows are 21+. So...if you're not 21, you're shit out of luck. I'm sure some super shitty bands are playing at the Epicentre that night so you and your 15 year old dick pig friends can like, swipe your dads vodka and totally lose your shit.

Bring the Motha' Fuckin' Ruckus
gdb

What are you doing Nov.4?

We're writing in Sarah Palin for president. Hah, just kidding, she's a cunt. I'm writing in Shockwave. The transformer, not the shitty band.

Check out this fucking awesome cartoon Tracie over at Jezebel made:















high tailing my way on to the commie list,

'stina

I cut in line, I bled to death

So, Megan just told me the atheists are having a bake sale in the quad at her school. She also told me that Inspired Flight is playing at UCSD's new performance space/cafe (sound familiar?), The Loft tonight.

Inspired Flight is a duo made up of some dude we don't know and this guy Gabe (known to the music world and the internet as Chavez) that Megan used to sling pizza with back in the day. He's also in Mechanical Cats, Jack the Original, Metrofique and probably 900 other bands. Cool dude.

If you're not doing anything and are into getting lost on a university campus like we are, hit that shit up.

In other news, Jawbreaker is trying again to remaster "Unfun," last weekend they got flutters in their tapes. Good job guys. Actually it's just Adam. Blake is in NYC defending his thesis. Hot. If you don't feel compelled to buy it yet, it features "the 7" mix of Busy and alternate mixes of Want and Fine Day." Adam also retracted his previous statement that "Unfun" would be first available through Hot Topic. That made me want to buy it. Siiiiiike. I'm not buying it anyways because I think it's stupid. Not nearly as stupid as when Billy Corgan decided to release four different versions of Zeitgeist, all of which sucked, but still stupid. You can't pander to me this time! I was actually thinking about buying Suckgeist until I found out about the capitalist wool Corgan was trying to pull over our collective eyes (it was probably Courtney Love's idea). So, I stole it from the internet with smug satisfaction before deleting it because it was making my hard drive suck. As Mattcarr says, you should have quit while you were ahead, Corgan. At Machina.

Welp, time to go bathe this week. I have a feeling The Loft isn't like the Che and people might notice if I don't shower.

'stina

hump day shortlist

Oh sweet baby Jesus, why is it Wednesday? If you're like me, you need a little boost to help you over the hump. Now that Project Runway is over and the presidential race has become my new reality tv addiction, I think it's high time I introduce a new ponygirl weekly feature: hump day shortlist, in which I throw together a few romantic tunes to help get you over that hump and hopefully aid you in putting your tongue in some lady's mouth.

Today I'm feeling a kind of Phil Spector inspired sixties vibe, and after all, nothing is more romantic than Mr. Spector. He will kill a bitch and call it an "accidental suicide". Oh dang, good thing I'm writing this on my fainting couch.

First up, I have Grizzly Bear, live, covering "He Hit Me", originally recorded by The Crystals and produced by Phil Spector. Thanks for the video rawkblog! You can also download this song on daytrotter.



If you can think of anything more romantic than this song, congratulations, you probably know what a healthy relationship is like. In that case, I don't know what you're doing here.

Hey, remember Bat For Lashes? I still love the shit out of this song and video, "What's a Girl To Do?"



If you fuck with Natasha Khan her bicycle gang of furries will not hesitate to annihilate you. They will synchronized-jump you into the ground.

Rounding out the shortlist, the Jesus and Mary Chain video for "Just Like Honey".



I....
I have nothing snarky to say about this. Not even about the hair. Just leave me alone.
GET OUT OF MY ROOM.

just like honey (honey's dead)
megan elizabeth

Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday: The Ting Tings are fucking awful

Welcome to Clean Up on Aisle Tuesday, a new weekly feature in which we take turns dishing on songs we'd be okay going the rest of our lives without hearing.

For me, today, it's The Ting Tings.


My hate for this sorry excuse for a band is nearly unspeakable. I hate the annoying hipster yelling that has seemingly replaced real singing these days, I hate how terrible they are live because you can't trust a bleached out horseface to trigger MIDI loops properly and goddammit I hate how(instrumentally) catchy that one song is.

Shut Up and Let Me Go:




The only thing I am into is the video being shot through the H.O.V.A. sign but the vocals really seriously grind my gears. Stop announcing your lyrics and learn to sing, bitch. Or just shut your whore mouth and go back to your salon receptionist job. That goes for that slut in Crystal Castles that looks like Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream too.

Don't let me catch you liking shit that sucks,

'stina

I'm not replacing you. I'm all like "I had a shitty day" and it just says "whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

If I had one of those fancy vibrators you plugged your iPod into you could bet your ass one of the first songs I'd throw on my playlist would be Autolux's "Turnstile Blues."



It's got a good, consistent beat. You know.

The first time I heard Autolux it was on the Sunday evening local music show on indie 103.1 and it was the UNKLE collab. "Persons and Machinery." I like Autolux a lot and seriously regret not seeing them at Sunset Junction last year, I was already there being drunkorexic and making bad decisions but the prospect of a festival full of Los Angeles' most elite hip still definitely did and still kind of makes me feel yucky in my tummy. Autolux is a trio made up of the kinda cool nerds that you ignored in high school and probably most of college, I read somewhere that they met working on the score of some play and decided to make a band.




They're also cool because they bought back the rights to their masters of "Future Perfect" from their label and are the sole owners of their material. Righteous, dudes. Autolux released the single "Audience No.2" for their upcoming album "Transit, Transit" digitally, for free on the internets and I don't want to hear any shit about "the Radiohead model" because goddammit it's not the same. Radiohead handed out a piss-poor quality version of "In Rainbows" that you could pay $5 or $5,000 for and then go stand in line at Amoeba for three hours to fork over $80 for some shitty box set that had like an extra hour of whining and like a dirty sock with a minotaur scrawled on it or some other faggy bullshit. God, it really grinds my gears when people credit Radiohead as having invented the "pay if you please" model.

Tangents of mild rage aside, Autolux is playing on halloween at some...thing. There's an open bar. I might bail on everyone and go. I bet there's gonna be foxy dudes there. More info on their 'space.

I've got to go slip into something a little more ironic.

'stina

un dia

Life has been pretty rough lately. Sometimes I throw up in my mouth a little on my morning bus and then I just don't feel right the rest of the day. Stina says it's because I need to drink less coffee and/or eat something called "breakfast", but what the hell does she know? She's not a doctor.

Actually, my doctor said I need to stop drinking coffee AND eating soy and try not to drink very much because apparently that has something to do with the fucking lumps in my breasts but I was like damn it woman, that's like asking me to give up gasoline and make my car run on hope. If I don't have my five soy and whiskey lattes every morning, I just don't know how I'm going to function.

Happily, as long as I have my hearing I shall have the consolation of music.
I have recently discovered the world of Argentinian songstress and adorable woodland creature Juana Molina, who just released a new album called Un Dia.

LA VERDAD


It's a hypnotic and disorienting world, not least because I suck at speaking Spanish (restaurant Spanish: flirt with the bussers, fight with the cooks and eavesdrop on your tables) and struggle to pick out words as I can. And words are like the anchor that blah blah I'm an English major blah blah the map you use to navigate a surreal and shifting soundscape blah blah enhance the texture of the world.

ZAMBA CORTA


I think this 2006 profile from Domino Records is helpful in getting a sense of where her music comes from, especially the story about singing in her grandmother's elevator.



Gotta go see if that hot guy's at the coffee shop again, the one that makes me wish I carried around a phonograph so I could throw on a Beirut record and demand that he waltz with me.
-megan elizabeth

(You're writing songs that sound kind of like) Rick James(' songs), bitch.

There hasn't been too much going on around here and when I say that I mean I am up to my ass in alligators and can't figure out which review or interview to start on because they're all so overdue but I can't bring myself to do anything but wear my sleeping mask like a headband, sit in my bed picking at my newly-acquired auto harp callus and read Jezebel.

Monday, we didn't exactly get too dirty. It was kind of a giant brodeo. Lots of backwards baseball caps and conductor hats. It was like BROstoyevsky invited his army of BROmo sapiens. Jenni and I ended up sitting on her floor for a while (waiting for a gentleman caller) with her cat, armed with a fluffy thing with a bell on a string, the entire Pavement discography and sangria and stone pale ale (respectively, not mixed). Somewhere after admitting I have a horrifying inner monologue, especially during inopportune moments (I'm listening to Carrot Rope right now dude, internet knucks!) , we discovered myspace karaoke. This shit is quite alarming, yet I'm sure Megan and I will get drunk and do Mariah Carey at some point. On Monday, however, it seemed like a good idea to yell Celiene Dion in the wee hours of the morning and that's when we found it. Superfreak. After giggling for a minute, Jenni said "Hey you know what song sounds kind of like Superfreak? It's A Curse."

Dudes, it's true.





Who would have guessed Spencer Krug wold try to put himself in the running to be the next king of punk-funk? Not I.

Another one she pointed out was Beck's "Scarecrow" to "Like a Virgin." I agree, but also think it's a little like Depeche Mode's "Policy of Truth."

Some kids and their damn Beck fan videos:


Like a Virgin:



Dave Gahan is a hot old man and I'd totally still hit it from the back:


I'm not calling a Vanilla Ice or anything here, it's merely amusing that we can make genre-crossing connections. With that said, I'm inventing a Pony Girl Club drinking game (I'll probably be drinking while I play it anyways, might as well make it a drinking game) that is similar to the six levels of Kevin Bacon game. How do you go from Spencer Krug to us in three moves? Bid on us for the dirty pillow cancer auction and you'll find out!

I have to go wash the dye out of my hair now, I look like Erykah Badu but white and with saran wrap.

'stina

Oh yeah, if you're not doing anything tonight, come down to the 710 Beach club (I swear it's not a South Beach gay bar like The Birdcage) to see the Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein. I will not, contrary to popular belief, behave like a reprehensible jezebel this time.

Gurtrudestein: Not a sit-down band

Last night I dragged Mattcarr down to the Second Wind MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE to see The Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein at what initially appeared to be parent teacher conference night. Seriously, was it parents night? The Oddfellows to started late because of "the game" but still played a tight, impressive set. These dudes always blow my mind but get better every time I see them. The banter was good, I like necrophilia jokes that make people leave the venue. Also, it appeared some of them decided to get dressed or some shit which was cool because it didn't look like some random guy just walked onto the stage and picked up an instrument. They have this new-ish song they've played the last two times I've seen them and it's about ghosts or something but it's reeeeeeeally good and I wish they would put it on their myspace. Hint, hint. AHEM.

Next up was Flight or Fight (their name always makes my brain feel like it's having a user error because it wants to think it's Fight or Flight but maybe that's the point. Stop mindfucking me you guys, ask first!) and Mattcarr said they kind of reminded him of early No Doubt. Quick unrelated rhetorical question- what's worse than Christian ska? Nothing. Ska is the most annoying thing in the world (even more annoying than steel drums, Dr. Bubastis) and then add Christianity to it? Oh man. Moving on...

Second to last were the Unruly Bangs. They're a little more sinister version of a lot of the bands from 2000ish that I wonder what happened to. The slightly mod rock bands, like Vue. But with a chick singer, and more impressively a singing chick drummer. They were fun and it definitely didn't hurt that one of the dudes has a slight case of the Jemaine (Flight of the Conchords).

There was a moment of panic before Gurtrudestein played in which I realized I forgot to go to Gaytar Center to get those fancy-ass "I can still hear you talk but I'm not gonna be deaf as shit by the time I'm 35" ear plugs, but having one less drummer changed everything. I've become slightly notorious for bitching about shit being loud and have upon occasion been internet fodder because of it, so I said something dumb like "so are you ready to get pretty seriously aurally raped?" to Ryan without thinking about that thing where "aurally" sounds like "orally." Yikes. But in all seriousness, they fucking destroyed. They played in the dark, barely lit by the flicker of the projected film clips that consume the back wall of the stage, made a lot of noise and a Sarah Palin joke. What else could anyone ask for? In zealous noise-rock, there is a fine line between being noisy and being dissonant. I'm the resident black metal elitist, I know a lot about dissonance, trust me. This time around, their set felt more cohesive and was enjoyable. One thing that really stands out about Gurtrudestein is their energy. They're not playing for the Matlock crowd and it's hard to want to sit down. Amy has a powerful voice, but doesn't rely on that alone. They all get so into IT, that it starts to feel like an unharnessable force. I guess what I'm getting at is seeing Gurtrudestein is like watching the Large Hadron Collider actually work.

They're playing again Wednesday, with The Oddfellows at 710 Beach Club in Pacific Beach. Check it out. I'll be there, trying as hard as I possibly can to not look like I fit in anywhere in PB.

As for tonight, the Saloon in Encinitas will be as dirty as always, as will I and my usual crowd of misfits (and maybe more!). Gabe Vega is spinning, Mac is filming, some other guy is taking pictures, and some other people are doing other stuff too. $3 well you-call-its from 8-10 p.m. (Jenni and I have to eat dinner and watch Gossip Girl so I'm def. not going to be there before 9:30)

I have to go shuffle around my house and listen to "Dear You" while I get ready for work now.

'stina.

p.s. If you're gonna play spin the bottle with Gurtrudestein, prepare to lose so hard it's not even funny.

check yourself

Hey little Ponygirls and boys, as you may be aware, October is breast cancer awareness month. Here at Ponygirl Headquarters, we care about the health and vitality of your jugs and we cannot stress enough the importance of regular self-exams in addition to the titty massage provided by your doctor. Do as I say, not as I do, readers! For I have been lax in regard to my tatas and now I see the error in my ways. It sucks to go to the doctor thinking there is trouble in your southern seaport only to find that in fact you've got unwanted developments in your northern business district. Nobody likes unpleasant surprises.

I'm posting a link to directions for the self-exam. Our male readers should practice on themselves too. In case any of y'all ever get a girlfriend, it'll make her think you're really sensitive in a pervy way. Alternately, you could use the knowledge to establish yourself as a freelance O.B. Gyn in the alley behind your local grocery store. The possibilities are endless.

Ladies, I hunted down some videos that might put you in the mood.





The money shot on this one is around 1:40.


Also, from now until the end of the month, the Ponygirls are for sale, kind of. The highest bidder will receive an evening of music, drunken oversharing and laughter with the ponygirls, the cash going to breast cancer research of course. Start your bidding in the comments. If we instruct you to bid on us (stevens!!) and you are outbid, step down gracefully. Say something like, "I get them the other 364 days a year!"

breastfully yours,
megan elizabeth

It's Sunday night, do you know where your kids are?

All the cool kids are doing it. Come support our homies, The Oddfellows and Gurtrudestein.

'stina

Irish Folk Tales Scare The Shit Out Of Me

While the rest of the Pony Girl Staff have been out partying all night and making the world Dirty enough for all of us, i've been locked up in my parlor, festering in my ratty old Converge sweatshirt, drinking a lot of cheap beer and bumming out to late Pavement and Will Oldham.

Certain things make me feel old and kind of bum me out. Seeing shows like Space Ghost or Mystery Science Theater 3000 on TV makes me feel old. Seeing Rushmore on Comedy Central and remembering when I was 13 and saw it in theaters makes me feel old. Seeing Bill Murry makes me feel old. Going to shows that aren't 21+ makes me feel old. Pavement's last two albums, Terror Twilight in particular, really make me feel old.

“Architecture students are like virgins/with an itch they cannot scratch/never build a building 'til you're 50/what kind of life is that?”

- “The Hexx.”

Why does Terror Twilight bum me out so much? It doesn't bum me out in that “great band passed it's prime trying desperately to stay relevant” kind of way. It bums me out in a broader, more existential kind of way. Because I think without Pavement, most of the kids who came of age in the 1990s probably would've killed themselves. You can quote me on that. Think about it, if Pavement isn't the band that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy thinking back on your otherwise shitty childhood, it's probably Weezer, and we all know Weezer is just Pavement without all the talent and a serious case of yellow fever. Hell, Pavement still has a strangle-hold on the #1 indie-rock-influence title, so unless you're older than thirty or younger than fifteen, Pavement has had a lot of influence on the way you look at music, whether you know it or not.

But my point is, fuck bands like Nirvana and the Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots. Did the world need any more bumming out? Sure, hair-metal was a ridiculous craze, but that doesn't mean that popular music needed to shift into the eternally stoned depression that those assholes helped create. What's wrong with having a little fun? Why can't you be eternally stoned and fucking loving it? I think Bart Simpson (or was it Lisa?) said it best; “Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel.” Pavement was the antidote to all this bullshit. They were the pinnacle of cultural irreverence. Stephen Malkmus could've been the voice of an entire generation, instead he's just the voice of twenty-something disgruntled hipsters. What held them back was the exact thing that should've been their biggest selling point: they were just as bored and lazy and apathetic as you were, but they didn't suck at the guitar. But when it comes down to it, kids didn't want a band just like them. They wanted more straight-forward song structures. Less abstract lyrics. A singer with a cleaner voice and more choruses. In short, they wanted Weezer. It took a Harvard education to figure out that stoner kids didn't want a stoner band, they wanted a clean-cut band that could appeal to stoners. Either way, kids had their “feel good” band that made them want to go skateboarding with their friends instead of hang themselves by their ceiling fans, and the world was a better place because of it. I guess that's why i'll never fault Weezer for essentially being Pavement-lite—because in my book they were both forces for good.

Wait, back to my real point. Why does Terror Twilight do the very thing i've just canonized Pavement for NEVER doing?

I guess mainly because it's where Pavement really starts to act its age. The songs are tighter, quieter, more focused. It essentially sounds like a Malkmus solo album. I guess the threat of Y2K and a cultural apocalypse was enough to make even the Malk man re-evaluate where he fits in the grand scheme of things. But I wanted Pavement to be the band that laughed at all that shit. Say “fuck off” to the hyper-paranoid pack rats and just keep doing what they had been doing. But I guess they reached a breaking point. Their “Terror Twilight” if you will. Was Stephen Malkmus aging? Was he ready to accept the graying hair the aching back and his new role as respected Elder Statesmen of indie rock? I guess so. I guess that's better and more respectable than becoming a crazy ass recluse like Jeff Mangum. At what point do we all just need to grow the fuck up?

But, you know, there's always the looking back. I can still listen to Crooked Rain Crooked Rain and dive back into immaturity, if only for 45 minutes or so. Gold Soundz sums it up better than I ever could, with my favorite Pavement lyric ever:

“So drunk
in the August sun,
and you're the kind of girl I like.
Because you're empty,
and i'm empty,
and you can never quarantine the past.”

For a double-shot of self-loathing, how about a clip of Pavement ON Space Ghost? I remember seeing this episode of Space Ghost when I was like 14 or whatever. Fuck I loved Space Ghost.

I remember after Malkmus “dissed” the Smashing Pumpkins in the song "Range Life," song, Billy Corgan responded with an eerily prophetic message: “People don’t fall in love to Pavement… they put on Smashing Pumpkins or Hole or Nirvana, because these bands actually mean something to them.”

Sure thing Billy.

GDB

The Pony Girl Club presents: A Guide to Talking to Girls on The Internet

After fighting with the robot sluts at Cox for a day and a half to get my fucking internet fixed, I am finally ready to deliver what you guys have been waiting so long for: the liveblog of the High School Musical 3 sneak preview I'm attending!

Hah, I'm just kidding. I'm talking about the Pony Girl Club guide to talking to girls on the internet. Yeah. I'll admit it. We tried internet dating once. I mean, not together. Just at the same time. I always thought internet dating was for warcraft nerds and diabetics or something but I thought maybe I'd give it a chance since it's 2008 and people use the internet or some shit. When say I thought I'd give it a chance I mean Jenny K. basically dared me to, so I said yeah, okay one guy. Needless to say, it didn't go too well. When I say it didn't go too well I mean I ended up kind of dating the dude for like two months before he had an existential crisis, threatened to move to New Mexico to work in a water treatment facility and never talk to anyone again and eventually just stopped talking to me, later citing extreme depression (I ran into him at the Frog Eyes show and demanded an explanation immediately). Fact: joining the peace corps will not undo the fact that you got fired from your graphic design job, nor will it pay your Yaris payment.

So, now I'm compiling a list of tips culminated from our collective experience to help y'all stop acting like assholes, on and off the internets.

1.The content of your message is your first impression. You should probably try to not fuck it up. Don't say creepy shit or send dick pics. Messages that say "you're a cute chick and I'd like you to ride me like a pony" are TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE. Don't ask questions like "do u liek egyptian dick?" and don't send messages like this:

He there,

How are you doing?
Just got to tell you that I like ur profile and Pix and wanna Know you better.
How Cute Are You :-)
Beautiful Eyes and Lips :-)
Please add me to your favorites so we can chat here.
Would you like to chat on phone to know each other better ??
Wanna Date??
Looking for forward.

Guess what? Gonna block your 40-year-old ass. I almost wish I didn't delete some of the really yucky messages for the sake of my readers' amusement. You should probably also write your message in American SO I CAN UNDERSTAND IT. I shouldn't want to put a [sic] at the end of your entire message. This is a good example of what not to do:

hey whats up how r u doin shawty i seen that wit that drink ill drink with u for sure.

Don't give me a Reader's Digest version of your life and don't tell me how much you love to work out and hike. Isn't it clear by the pretentious list of "leisure lit" that I fucking hate hiking and shit? How could I have read all those damn books that most people consider punishment if I was outside running around catching hay fever? DO use information I have chosen to release to try to make a connection. I normally find beards yucky, but the dude I ended up dating had a beard. Why would I date a dude with a beard? Because in his first message he asked me how funny it would be to re-score Grosse Pointe Blank to Sunset Rubdown instead of John Cusack jerking off Joe Strummer. Yeah, score.

2. Don't talk about your ex-girlfriend. It's just really fucking annoying. We're all old enough that you have to be a social retard to not have been in a relationship at this point, especially if you're like us and dig the dirty thirties (I'm just kidding, we're trying to stick with dudes in their twenties...I think).The dude I dated from the internet talked about his ex-girlfriend on the first date. He was also asking about character makeup and asked me if I could make myself look like his ex-girlfriend. It was a joke. Even if it was a little mean, it was probably because I asked if his 16-year-old brother was a hot virgin. Wait, why am I defending this dude still? Ughhh. Megan went on an afternoon coffee date with a guy that pointed out his premature balding (it was hiding under the emo combover) and attributed it to the fact that his ex-girlfriend once told him she had herpes when she didn't. The best part about this dude is that he chatted me up previously, but started ignoring me once he did the hook line and sinker on Megan and eventually re-opened the dialogue circuit once he figured out Megan wasn't going to call him. No, I don't want to be in a band with you, I heard you got kicked out of Adamscott's little brother's band for SUCKING. Yeah, you did jostle me at the Silver Jews show. Yeah, I shot eye daggers at you and yelled about fighting you because I was a little drunk. Whatever.

3. Be kind of hot or at least really funny. If you look like a serial killer and your main interests are meat, the confederacy and "FUCKING LIKE A HORSE," we probably aren't going to get along. I almost prefer dudes that are not like, stupid hot, because they tend to be less...well, stupid. I'll be honest, you can have a pretty bad case of the cute and be funny or into shit I am into and I'll dig it, I'm kind of into that awkward early Rivers Cuomo thing anyways. You know, the dark hair and glasses with a cardigan combo. I also like obscenities and being offensive. I'm also really popular, kind of loud and feared by most. You have to be able to deal with it. The best way is by having a good sense of humor. Most people can't hang and with that said, my standards are still ludicrously high and I will probably date one guy a year for two months and never get married. It's cool, I have a cat.

4. Try not to act like a total psycho. It's normal for most people to move on to normal e-mail after a while (or at least I think so?) because most people can't check internet dating sites at work and I can use gmail on my phone. What you shouldn't do with this e-mail address, is use it to find and read every article the girl you're interested wrote for her college paper and later tell her you loved "that one about those kids shoes with the wheels on 'em." Acting like a total psycho includes showing up at her work when she didn't tell you where she worked. Acting like a total idiot includes agreeing to get a beer with said dude since he drove up from University Heights to stalk you and getting totally wasted because you got the magic refilling pint glass. Yikes. If you actually do get the chance to bang a girl, you should probably try NOT crying on the final frontier. She's gonna freak out, not to mention think you're a total pussy.

5. Look like your pictures. If you don't, please save yourself a shred of dignity and don't point out why. In my case, the dude had a floppy mop of hair in his pictures yet had no actual hair in real life. Being asked why prompted a story about how he shaved his head two years ago when his girlfriend dumped him and just kept shaving it. Are you on some sort of sadsack hair protest? Don't even get me started on the really serious under bite. I feel like I put up an assortment of photos that accurately displays both how foxy I am as well as how goofy/boring/normal I can look. That includes full-body pics. You can't hide behind the internet dude, we'll figure you out. Especially if it's your height you're fudging. We are apparently slightly above average (the internet says it's 5'3.7"), height-wise and hang out with a bunch of goddamn giants so if you say you're 5'7" but you meant 5'4" fuck yeah I'm gonna notice. It's not like I'll automatically turn my nose up at you for being more vertically challenged than I am, as long as you're cool.

What I'm getting at is I'm going to take my chances in the real world, you know, keep scamming on friends' friends/coworkers but in the mean time YOU can stop being less of a dickbag when trying to pick up chicks on the 'net.

You guys are going to have to excuse me now, I have to go deal with this dude that keeps calling me because he thinks I'm Jenni. I've told him twice that he has the wrong number but "wrong number" is apparently just a shorter way of saying "I'm playing hard to get." Why would this guy think I'm Jenni? Funny you should ask. We were at dirty mondays and this guy asked for her number and instead of saying "I don't have a phone" or "no please" she gave him mine. Fucking stellar.

'stina.

any little article will do

The other night at work, I found myself in a bit of a spat with my manager Dan, or as I like to call him, my Danager. Apparently he was not amused by my antics which include but are not limited to: sexual advances on my superiors and my equals, exaggerated whining and nagging, meowing, gossiping, frequent references to the movie Office Space, defacing the hospitality bulletin board, creation of a stupid-customer bingo game, stealing from the gumball machine and several well timed remarks of the "that's what she said" or "that's not what you said last night" variety. I thought long and hard (that's what she said) about what to do to correct the situation. I decided that in my cash-out I would include several Canadian pennies that had made their way into my coin purse and which I have been hoarding as our economy collapses. Every little bit helps.

As I gave him my little folder I pointed out to him that I had given him my Canadian pennies. "Why on Earth would you do that?" He sighed in exasperation. "Give me some REAL money."

"Canadian money is worth more than ours now." I replied. "I want you to have it."

He sunk into a nearby booth, stricken with emotion. I continued to stock and clean my tables. After several minutes had passed, I noticed he was still sitting there, frozen in his grief. His eyes were red and a glistening film of moisture clouded his gaze. "Damn them." He whispered, clenching his fists. "Damn them all to Hell."

If our restaurant was located any higher off the ground, I might have had to talk him back from the ledge. This is what I would have said:
Dan, I know things look bad right now. Those darn Canadians, they just come in here with their flappy jaws and their maple syrup and my favorite bands and they steal our jobs and make our women's loins burn with desire. But America is strong Dan, Americans are strong. The people in power have fucked us six ways to Sunday and the next people in power will most likely do the same, but there are still things to live for. Do you like cats? Of course you do. What about beer? Everybody likes beer. The American dollar is weak, but the American band is strong. At least TV on the Radio is strong.



Yes, I HAVE been told that I would make an excellent candidate for Vice President. I'm kind of mavericky like that. TV on the Radio is mavericky too, as evidenced by these promotional videos for Dear Science.



HOW DO THEY KNOW I'M HIGH?


But seriously folks, it's a damn good album. The only surprises are good ones. In the first half, slower songs like "Stork and Owl" and "Family Tree" break up the frenzied energy of the two singles without dragging the overall energy level down. Later on they treat us to a song about the whore of Babylon and they wrap the whole thing up with a pretty red ribbon called "Dogs of Light".
So shut your fucking face, uncle fucker.
xo
megan elizabeth

They're having a FIRE SALE?!

It's that time again. You know, that time where EVERYTHING IN CALIFORNIA CATCHES ON FUCKING FIRE. I swear to all of your pagan gods I am milking this evacuation shit as long as I can this year, I spent too much time calming other people down last year. When I stumbled out to my car shoeless, yet clad in head to toe black non-breathing fabrics, this morning to go to work I noticed it was HOTTER THAN FUCKING AFRICA, not to mention DRIER THAN JOAN RIVERS' VAGINA. Ugh, I hate Santa Ana weather so much, especially after having a few days of rain. Anyways, my sister and I saw this entire hill on fire pretty close to our house, so I raise my metaphorical glass to the beginning of hell week.

Firestorm 2008 playlist thus far:











The Bowie song is kind of inappropriate, sure, but I just really like that montage of GIANT KITTIES! AWWWWW!

'stina

Gabe Vega, if I put a quarter in your mouth will you play something I want to hear?

I haven't bitched about Dirty Mondays in a while, so it's about time. Last week Gabe Vega played a song by The Virgins (I think it was "Rich Girls," which is especially fitting because Jenni and I watch Gossip Girl before we go) and this week he played "Heartbeats" by The Knife. And like, other songs, but those are ones I like. I always try to remind myself to throw less of a shit fit because whatever he plays is better than some dickbag picking three hours worth of reggae on the jukebox but what can I say? I'm picky AND I have a sense of entitlement. Sound familiar?

Wednesday, homeboy's DJing over at the Belly Up and looks like I'm gonna go. Shit's free, and is being billed as "The Most Interesting Show in The World." Apparently, there is going to be all kinds of ass-backwards shenanigans like acrobats, fire-jugglers, Russian dancing and French burlesque singing followed by some band that probably sucks because they list their influences as being bands I like yet sound nothing like any of them, followed by Vega tearin' it up. Or maybe not, it is the Belly Up, after all. How the fuck do you DJ for the Matlock crowd? Three hours of Yanni? As far as next Monday, I'd like to hear the Trentemoller remix of Royksopp's "What Else is There:"


and the MSTRKRFT remix of Metric's "Monster Hospital:"



If someone feels like going out on a limb earlier in the night, Wolf Parade's "Disco Sheets:"



I love that video because it's not really for the song but is about gay clubs in London. Even the gays love the Krug! It's good and danceable!

In addition to hearing a song I like, our fun-sized asian lavaaaaah, Mac, gave me a purseful of stuff from the Lou's free giveaways box, which apparently consists of a bunch of faggy bullshit nobody wants. I didn't walk into the place thinking some hot guy that has 40 crates of records at home with his cat would just hand me a Jawbreaker box set but it's the equivalent of me handing out tiny gift-with-purchase tubes of bacne scrub and being like "HAI LOOK I GOTS U A PRESENT!" *coughGIFTCARDRAFFLEcough* He's my new favorite for trying, though. The one freebie I will gloat about is the best keychain that does not open bottles or shoot fire in the entire world. It's so cool I can't even tell you what it is, I just have to hit you in the face with it. He picked out rap-related shit so I could talk some big game about these dudes having "weak beats" but one of the fliers was for this cracka-ass-bitch that is putting a record out tomorrow and one of the guests on the album is Keak Da Sneak. I don't think I've ever talked about how much we like getting hyphy. HOLY SHIT. Here are a few of my fav. hyphy videos:

Sideshow:


Ghost Ride It:


Tell Me When to Go:


Shake them dreads,

'stina

Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Marketing Demographic

Megan and I had a really romantic night on Friday. We went out to dinner, to the Roxy, if you must know. We always both order "The Artichoker" sandwich (it is chock full of things I think are tasty, like artichokes, black olives, sprouts and avocado) and share garlic-battered artichoke hearts. It rained a little bit, not enough to use windshield wipers (it's never enough for Megan to use wipers, shit would turn into the black lagoon) but enough to deposit delicate sprinkles of dew onto our eyelashes so that other patrons may think our eyes were twinkling with love. Regardless of twinkling or not, we followed dinner up with a movie. Not just any movie, but the worst movie ever made for people like us. We schlepped in a box of Red Vines and a six-pack of Coronitas (they're so cute and so purse-sized!), because mid-twenties rebellion is a dish best served with beer goggles and a red tongue, and proceeded to ruin "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" for about 15 other people. And not just by kicking over an empty beer bottle.

I'm going to try not to ruin the movie for any of you idiots that think you still want to see this shit, so I'm no going to review it, so much as I'm going to make a list of complaints. I can tell you that we're planning a new video, tentatively called "The Pony Girl Club presents: Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Markting Demographic re-enacted in five minutes."

1. The soundtrack. This shit was a total miss. It turned into a game for us. Every time there was a song featured by an "indie" band, I yelled "PANDERING!" Oooooh snap, you used Islands AND Takka Takka! Liek, ZOMG! If these fucking fruitcakes took any time to really consider character devlopment it would have been obvious to them that Michael Cera's character would have totally been into Wolf Parade. How can you make a breakup mix without "Grounds for Divorce?" You can't. The last time I broke up with a dude it was to "Kissing the Beehive." True story. As if you didn't know that it would sting, bitch.

2. The gay band. "Nick" is the straight bassist in a gay band called "The Jerkoffs." The ludicrous insinuation that the "indie" community is okay with gays is just that- ludicrous. I mean okay whatever I don't hate the gays (I guess) but the in-your-faceishness of the constant barrage of "HEY LOOK BEING HOMOSEXUAL IS ACCEPTABLE" became offensive. I feel like it's my duty as resident filthy hipster bitch with recently aquired rights to social commentary (now that I'm a blogger and shit) to point out that for the most part we don't care. Apathy is pretty widespread in this community of selfish fools. It reminds me of an article about hipsterdom I once read in which the author said "we'd look like revolutionaries, if only we were holding rocks instead of digital cameras." Personally, I don't care if that dude from Xiu Xiu is into dudes part-time and ladies part-time as long as you deliver what I want- a good show.

3. The booze. These kids are from Dirty Jersey and are in New York City for a night, how the fuck did they all get so drunk? And didn't their parents ever tell them not to drink and drive? Where the hell are their parents and why don't they care that they're not home at 5 a.m.? Shouldn't they be in school? Oh wait, I remember being in NYC underage and being served alcohol. Whoops! I was there for a journalism conference and went on a spur-of-the-moment dinner date with a fellow digital audio production major from some shitty state in the midwest. He was also deaf in the left ear. Man, I can't remember anything about this guy. He was nice and pretty cute, I probably could've finnagled a handski out of him if I actually tried. Probably should've tried.

4. Devendra Banhart. Norah is lightly arguing with former childhood friend Triss (who is also the ex-girlfriend of Nick) in a liquor store about how she has " probably had like, hundreds of orgasms" in her life when Banhart's rebellious beard appears to tell her that she'd "know" if she did. Someone get Devendra Banhart's dirty gay vegan rebellious beard on the Megan's Law website. No, I'm not talking about Megan's fetish porn site, I'm talking about that shit you put your neighbor's picture on when they diddle your spawn.

5. The stupid pretty girl that thinks she'd fug because her childhood best friend looks like Miley Cyrus. Goddammit, I am so sick of this shit. Seriously. Everyone knows there is a sliding scale of self-hatred that corresponds with your level of intelligence and the smarter you are, the worse you feel about yourself. Unless you're me, but I didn't say anything about people of superior intelligence with out of control ego problems. There's a moment when they're being intimate Nick takes off his hoodie and vans and is totally going to finger Norah and she says something dumb like "you still like me even though I'm not pretty like Triss?" Talk about bonerkiller. If a dude gets down to his business socks, it's business time. It's not that hard to figure out. You shut your whore mouth and get jiggy because he's not gonna wanna dip his pinkie in if you are too busy pointing out flaws he didn't even notice you had. Save that shit for drinking too much with your lady friends. It's bad enough that in the beginning of the movie one of Nick's gays drags Norah into the van and makes her change her bra because her personality is a lot easier to see in a red lacy push-up bra, but the fact that she weaves in and out of low self-esteem city even when HE ALREADY TOOK HIS HOODIE AND VANS OFF is just silly. And annoying.

Ugh, I am so tired I can't even think anymore. Good thing I have the entire day off so I can do stuff like watch DVRed TV before going to ballet as a warmup for dirty mondays.

The pedastools are about the same height as the gallows,

'stina.

one trick pony: someone to keep us warm

You aren't imagining things. I have been rather neglectful of my blogging duties as of late. I wish that I had a litany of excuses, each more fantastic than the last, with which to excuse my gross misconduct. However, I have only the simple and the mundane. I have just begun a new term at the university and I find myself suddenly weighted down with countless volumes and every other day embarking on a railway journey. I spend my school days dodging evangelical Christians and attempting to circumvent as much fratty bullshit as possible. Seriously, dudes dragged their fucking couches into the middle of walkways so they could sit around yelling. Makes me want to start my own club. I'll call it the obstructing walkways club. Gonna yell about whatever I feel like.

On my train home last night, I managed to get a window seat. I like to get a seat by the window and then just sit there and read. It's a habit related to my love for sitting in the left handed seats of lecture halls although I am right handed. It makes me feel I'm getting a little something extra for my money.

So I sat reading, with my pod on of course. Don't need no stinking outside world. Shuffle was hitting all the right spots, as it sometimes does, but it really knocked it out of the park with this one:



It was the right song at the right moment. The song is called "Someone to Keep Us Warm" by a group from Detroit called the Silent Years. They did a pretty rad Daytrotter Session a couple weeks ago in addition to one they did last April. If they were coming to California any time soon I would bring two friends and they'd bring two friends and so on and so on but alas, we'll just have to wait a little bit longer.

I really like the lyrics in this song, especially the first line. It reminds me of the part in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle when the woman asks him to just hold her to charge her batteries. It can feel that way sometimes, not that I would know anything about that. I am colder than a Russian winter. That's cold enough to defeat Napoleon AND Hitler, in case you were keeping score. But this song sort of reminds me of what it used to feel like to have emotions. It has a sweetness to it, a warmth that at a closer proximity might affect my polar ice caps.

Who am I kidding? I tear up during previews for movies that look like they'll make me cry. The moral of the story is: download the daytrotter sessions, buy their new album and find someone to keep you warm, even if it is just your kitty.

Stay classy San Diego.
megan elizabeth

Your mom's just like, "get the hell out of my house!"

In case you guys have been waiting with baited breath to find out what we've been up to instead of blogging compulsively, there's your answer. Yeah, we're recording an album. And going to school. And working. We're sorry. We've got a lot of shit up our sleeves though. It's getting stinky.

xoxo,

Pony Girls

I'll meet you where the river forks...shit, I'd meet you in a pit of fucking snakes

There are very few Sunset Rubdown songs (when I say "Sunset Rubdown" I also mean the piss-poor quality solo recordings) I don't have. When I say that, I mean there are like two. That I know of. It's kind of creepy that I have the last few years of Spencer Krug's activity chronicled in my pocket anyways, but it's cool you guys. No big deal.

Rationalization aside, I was trying to figure out those god-forsaken myspace playlist things and found some old-ass songs the Krug probably recorded in the basement of his apartment building (do they even have apartments in Canada, or just huts?) that I imagine is smack-dab in the middle of a town square that looks like that village in Beauty and the Beast. One is called "It Wouldn't Let Them Down" and the other is called "Give Up On Your Ghost." The former is more standard noisy Krug shit involving a guitar and an accordion, while the latter sounds more like David Bowie in Labyrinth and Danny Elfman picked up a player piano and simultaneously Being John Malkovich-ed our Tiger Beat centerfold.



Awwww, look at that guy! It's like one of those pictures of a smiling kitten:

God, I love kitties. In case you didn't catch that link above, THIS was the only place I could find those songs. Seriously, I tried. I might have to e-mail the dudes over at Snakes Got A Blog, 'cause I know they got 'em. One of the places I tried was the Sunset Rubdown threads over at the Wolf Parade forums, to no avail, obvs. but I did find videos people were posting from the shows on the EAST COAST TOUR they recently got to go to. There were a few videos of new songs but apparently Jordan (not the Deep Sleepover dude, he's too busy making good music) asked the youtubers to take them down. Bummer. What are we supposed to do? Y'all don't tour here (or anywhere near the West Coast), so we're supposed to pretend it's not 2008, act like we don't have technology to pry into shit and just sit on our hands 'till the new record comes out? Yes, that would be polite but GODDAMMIT.

I need to go file my talons into points now, so here's a video from two couple days ago, filmed AT A SHOW WE COULDN'T GO TO BECAUSE IT WAS ACROSS THE DAMN COUNTRY AND OUR ECONOMY IS SHITTY AND WE'RE STUDENTS THAT DON'T MAKE ANY MONEY. It's one of our favorite songs, "Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings:"



'stina