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

(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.

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

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.

hey, remember when you told san diego we sucked at conversation?

Hey y'all, check out our vlog! We just had a little chat about the Wolf Parade show on July 20 at Canes in San Diego, their new album and some hypothetical interview questions to show that we are insightful, intrepid journalist types. Also, we had to make a video so we wouldn't have to face off at the roller derby for the right to write about Wolf Parade.



One thing that we didn't really cover without mumbling a lot or talking shit on our bosses was the fact that Spencer played the show sick. He took a little break in the middle. Dan tried to distract us by talking about The Big Lebowski or something but it was pretty clear that he ran away to hurl because when he came back he said he wasn't feeling good. We were really impressed by the dedication that showed to his fans. Working when you're sick sucks. His job is at least ten times better than mine, but I bet it still sucks when he's sick. We appreciated it and we would have liked to know his symptoms so we could look them up on web md. Wouldn't want anything serious to go unmisdiagnosed.

Set phasers to FANGIRL

...so we can shoot photons of love at you, Spencer Krug!

Oh man, that is creepy. I heard from someone that we are going to do a tag-team videoblog show/album review for Wolf Parade (the show last night at Cane's/At Mount Zoomer), so keep your eyes peeled.

In the mean time, here are a couple pictures I took last night. I never claimed to be a photographer and above that I didn't just arbitrarily take 22 pictures of The Krug- bitches be jostling me and not letting me through to take pictures of my beloved theremin-playing Angel from above (Canada), Hadji. Or Jenni's beloved married love nugget, Dan. Jenni took some pictures with a real film camera, so hopefully she got some decent photos of...oh, you know...the rest of Wolf Parade.








That last one is the real money shot. Homeboy turned around and bared his chompers, just for us! Probably because he knew the Pony Girls would write nice things if he gave us at least one picture.


Canadian bacon is really just round ham but I still wonder what they call it,

'stina.

I'll believe in anything you tell me to, Spencer Krug

Yo, Pony Girl Club field trip tonight!

We are going to see Wolf Parade at Cane's! Ask us to sign your titties!

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!

July is finally upon us. I don't know why I said "finally," it's not like I'm waiting for anything. *coughwolfparadeatcane'sonthe20thcough* July also holds Bastille Day, Julius Caesar's birthday and that one day that nobody landed on the moon. Oh and American Independence Day. What if this year it was like that Will Smith movie?



BITCH, WHAT THAT SMELL LIKE?! God that would suck. So on Friday (the 4th of July), if the planet doesn't get EXPLODED by oh, say, 9:30? Come to the Beauty Bar San Diego with us and see Emery Byrd. It'll be fun.

The real reason I am posting today is this month doesn't have any special stuff going on in it (e.g., Black History Month, My Birthday Month, Breast Cancer Month, Halloween, etc.) so I feel like we need to give July some Zazz. Some Zazz, via theremin.

The theremin is one of the earliest electronic instruments as well as the first instrument played without being touched. It's an electrophone with two metal antennas.

Leon Theremin, the inventor (duh):



The loop antenna controls the volume and the stick antenna controls the pitch. The theremin has been used in countless b-movie soundtracks, resulting in its sound being identified as "creepy," despite the fact that unbeknownst to most, it has a place in modern/popular music. Here are a few examples:

Hadji Bakara of Wolf Parade playing a theremin live on "Same Ghost Every Night"




The Pixies' "Velouria"




M83's "Don't Save us From the Flames"




Oh, and a cat playing a theremin



Theremins are the coolest thing ever and I want someone to build me one. FANCLUB GO!!!


'stina.

like a teenager in town

Confession time: I know Wolf Parade's new album came out like last week or the week before or something (I am losing track of time because I am mostly unemployed) but back in May I heard that a certain Paul Peterson had gotten a hold of it early. Once I knew that somebody else had it, and that somebody else was Paul Peterson, I could not rest until I had illegally downloaded it early (I pre-ordered a hard copy too, okay, GET OFF MY BACK). So I've had extra time to think about At Mount Zoomer and yet the most intelligent thing I can say about it has to do with my favorite song, "California Dreamer". Behold, Wolf Parade live:



Please note the Krug's Brett Michaels-esque bandana and at 2:22 I believe his Krugly knee is revealed. He appears to be wearing shants (not shorts not pants). Fetch me my smelling salts!

I'm really digging how the instruments in this song sound like the Doors and then suddenly instead of Jim Morrison's low, booming voice you get Spencer Krug's je ne sais quoi. Incongruous yet apt, I say, and a testament to his stature as a songwriter and performer that the comparison doesn't fall flat or make him look like an ass. It stands, both ironic and true as well as really fun to listen to at top volume in the car with the windows down, yesssss. This song is the reason I can't sit and listen to that album all the way through because it keeps ending up on repeat. True story.