Girrrl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon

this blog doohickey is very addictin’ (not to mention dramatic)! i’ve even had to underline it!

lately i ‘ve been thinking about hipsters and why people are so mean to them. especially those meanies who are, let’s face it, fucking losers. just because making fun of the differently-abled (“r3tards”) is easy doesn’t mean it’s okay, and it definitely don’t impress me OR shania much. the only person who i would ever maybe allow to make fun of hipsters is wanda sykes, but unless you are the author of “Yeah, I Said It” and/or “an Emmy-winning American stand-up comedian and actress well known for her blunt observations on current events, the differences between the sexes and races, and life in general” [Citation needed], please stick to what you’re good at, which is making hipsters’ jobs (being cooler than others) SO DAMN EASY. pretending some weird form of superiority premised on the assumption that your conformity is more self-aware than someone else’s is not okay. at least, that’s what i hope it is, because the alternative rationales are so so much more embarassing for everyone involved.

anyHOO, as part of my ongoing quest to make illogical comparisons between all sets of multiple objects/concepts in my life, I am going to tell you why Toronto is like a hipster. think of it as a cryptic crossword for the Myspace generation.
1) If U ain’t hated, U ain’t famous
2) class wars
3) valued diversity
4) bad PR (they showed a promotional vid for Tdot on the bus and it was even more awkward than everyone I know thinks they are, which is to say a lot)
5) people won’t admit their sublimated desires for both, but the pressure’s building! as richard hell & the voidoids would say, love comes in spurts. doncha know (that was the Mom from Bobby’s World)

yesterday i learned some interesting facts. i should probably write a Bathroom Reader.

• “baby when you’re gone” by bryan adams featuring mel c was only a hit in Canada, not in the US
• the people who sing “123 Train With Me” are Italian! and probably androids, too!
• why dome is called dome (the definitive answer)
• Nellie McKay is even gayer than i thought…
• maclean’s is starting to make me embarassed of being canadian on a “cancel that shit asap” level, although it was a little bit of relief to learn that the “Deer Gone Wrong” headline was actually about wildlife in Germany, not Muskoka
• it’s no longer interesting that my dad is from new zealand. or that my cousin has an intercom in her house.
• someone needs to do some academic inquiry into The People’s Court

all i want to do is listen to the slow jams on Rhythm Nation 1814 while luxuriating in a bathtub and thinking about how there’s so many kids livin in a world they didn’t make.

don’t stop believing – if the welfare state can’t help, jesus probably will

Who’s Gonna Drive U Home?

This is dedicated to the one I HOV: high-occupancy vehicle lanes between Don Mills and the 407! Taking you further than you ever wanted to go since 2006!
I would like to take this opportunity to share a very special piece of music by Mr. Andrew Gold. it always lifts my spirits when i’m feeling blue!

Although, deanejacob makes a good point: “So I just wanted Pinky and the Brain and this is what I get. The song is gay and should never be combined with this show I hate you. “

speaking of friends, if anyone was thinking of how they wanted to spend their money and then I popped into your head, here is what I would like for Secretaries’ Day:

1. gawdy cross bling (I already have a Jesus fish ring and I am workin it)
2. enough cheap sunglasses so that i can break one pair per week and still be sorted at the end of summer
3. graphic novels
4. dance mix 94 & 96 (i know they’re probably far inferior, but tell me baby girl cause i NEED TO KNOW)
5. soup from a restaurant called Pho Real.
6. fake pearls
7. geraniums
8. a bitch stick
9. wellbutrin SR for my recreational use

i was going to ask for some weapon with which i could hurt slow-walking sidewalk obstructions, but i remembered I already have a monogrammed stamp that can easily put to work in street branding, to ensure that those who block my path are marked (with shame) for 1-3 washes by the knowledge that they delayed my arrival to ~*~somewhere important~*~ by 5 seconds, or 65 if they made me miss a yellow light.

i’m a big fan of adding street in front of other words. try it! street nurse, street meat, street loon…
ciao bellas

F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.D.O.M.E.

Well, hello. and welcome to my blog!

in celebration of the advent of T. Heise’s final unit, poetically entitled “Postmodernisms II: Uncontainable Texts, Uncontainable Bodies” and an epic Holy Thursday/Good Friday no-sleep marathon, I have decided that the world of sporadic Facebook notemaking/stultifying Livejournal posts is no longer enough for me. My body is an uncontrollable text, SO READ IT, BITCH. I have a fire within, and it compels me to share my innermost thoughts and selected funny music videos with the world. Which is my oyster. arianna huffington is probably going to ask me about syndication any day now.

the name Peristalsis Hilton is in honour of Mr. Ingle’s grade 11 biology class, which taught me that there are a lot more sphincters in your body than you might think. It’s also an homage to people who i think embody what america is all about. hell yeah!

more about them later. right now I want to talk about hypothetical photo albums I would have created last night if my camera had batteries in it.

Me straddling a chair with a Paint-ed in speech bubble saying “Te amo” would definitely have been involved. Scarves, too. The captions would be super hilarious – alternating between pithy one-liners, fake brenda dickson quotes and funny film titles. for example, one of me in tormented modernist lesbian fiction angst poses in an off-white rooms entitled “If These Walls Could Talk 2″ and “Things U Can Tell Just By Looking At Her”. or just working it in my maternity clothing and occasionally laughing uncomfortably when the haze lifted. LOLOLOL

here are some “Well done, kudos me” quotes of last night/this morning (I have not really slept yet – although I did black out between Dorval and eastern Eastern Ontario and remember nothing except for the way too amazing lesbian continuumy conversation going on behind me as I type) that made me a laugh a lot:
“the collective vagina is angry/dewy/sandy etc.”

- use this one whenever you need mad self-expression and got it badd, but only in the most passive-aggressive way. it’s sort of like this

&

“minnie riperton has made me feel impure for the rest of my life.”

let’s face it, regarding the innocent nature of her devotion: damn right it’s better than yours. luuuuuuuuuuh-vin you-u is easy cuz you’re beautiful.

another funny thing that happened was that a joint got stuck to my lips and i had to blow it off into the garbage can. no forest fires thus far.
but what’s most importantly is that the beat went on and i Warm Leatheretted it around the room bending and snapping before collapsing on my bed where I was no longer of capable of any activity other than Peter Frampton/Hall & Oates appreciation, and accidentally recieved a juice box facial. someone needs to gimme one reason why 1978 isn’t better than 2008 so that i can hurry up and move with on my life.

the biggest shock of all comes next: i arrived at the bus station glazed-over, wearing a tank top and carrying a bag of 9 apples, oranges and pears, expecting to hop on a near-empty bus and watch porn at the back. no can do! apparently some people actually wake up at 5am so that they can make the 7:30, rather than choosing the far more sensible option of a departure time greater than or equal to 13h. so instead i leaned back, relaxed, and reflected on my mastery of missy elliott raps but complete inability to remember the part of “fuck the pain away” that comes after “sucking on my titties” (i.e. the whole song). on the other hand, it was a pretty gigantic novelty to be the only McGill student on an entire vehicle moving between Montreal and Toronto. *c^r*a^z*y^

i think i’m going to cut this short before i ruin a fresh, new (succinct) voice on the scene. the story ends with the bus being faster than the train (“I just looove how it keeps going and going and going!”), me pretending to be a skateboarding prodigy hitch-hiking across Canada and presiding over parking lots in Kingston, Ontario.

shout-outs going to: babyface, gloria vanderbilt, matthew coon come & the munchkins who organized my assortment of complimentary prophylactics by colour, flava and style!

love,
jarvis cock, err