To call a man an animal is to flatter him; he's a machine, a walking dildo.

-Valerie Solanas

Last night was spent listening to my Bikini Kill albums and reading Valerie Solanas.
SCUM manifesto, Ladies. For those of you not in the know, SCUM is an acronym for 'Society for Cutting Up Men'. But what SCUM really represents is'...the dominant, secure, self-confident, nasty, violent, selfish, independent, proud, thrill-seeking, free-wheeling, arrogant females, who consider themselves fit to rule the universe, who have freewheeled to the limits of this "society" and are ready to wheel on to something far beyond what it has to offer.'

I woke up to sunshine this morning for the first time in quite awhile. Everything was still covered in a layer of ice and the tree branches outside glistened. It was like God saying:

Mornin' Jenny. Things are grand. Look, I made everything sparkle for you.

And it was nice. And I have a lot more to offer.

Boys and Girls:

Nothing says Christmas like barfing in a snowbank.

I made it to Moncton after all, with a few friends who were going to voodoo or something like that and they dropped me off at the Paramount.

So, the question is:what the hell happened to me in Moncton? Was it the rum at the party we stopped at on the way? Maybe drinking and riding passanger through a snowstorm is no good? It is a mystery, but I got siiiiick. Like soooo siiiick.

Car ride home:

me: uh oh...

Susan: A bag! We need a bag!

me: bleeehhh barfbarf

Everyone laughs

me, meekly:I'm so sorry....bleehhh

Everyone laughs

This may take awhile to live down. I haven't been that sick since Bubbles slipped me a roofie colada (true story, but for another time). Shining moments.

Depsite that, I had an awesome time at the Paramount with Bad Motels, Team Hemingway and two very naughty girls named Savannah and Lindsay. Bad, bad girls. You keep getting me into trouble.

My dad this morning: Jenny, I walked out the driveway and encountered crows picking at what appeared to be a dead animal...upon closer inspection, it was your hat. Don't worry, it's still good.

Fuck you, Environment Canada.

Well, I suppose the weather isn't entirely their fault. But all their fancy colours and weather alerts and warnings were enough for my Dad to 'no' me on taking his vehicle to the Boxing Day Bash in Monkeytown. I was really looking forward to it; it would have been the perfect Amherst break and mini Hali-friends reunion, until I return for Friday's One World show with the beautiful and talented A/V.

So, I'm sitting sulking, albeit very comfortably in my new lovely velour-chenille hot-pink robe, listening to the Burdocks. This isn't too bad I guess. Tomorrow, I will compensate by hitting the Used shops. Amherst has a remarkable bounty of vintage clothing. I already bought a wicked-rad fur hat for 5$. It's so eskimo and pretty.

Christmas was lovely and quiet. Lots of laughing. I love stepping outside to stillness, snow and cows. Maybe I should stop eating them.

Beside the computer, my dad has a picture of our bathroom wall from when he stripped the wallpaper a few months ago. In huge cursive the wall reads, 'Jennifer [last name] rules the world'; above Jennifer is a self portrait, above 'rules' is a rectangle and that says 'rules:don't...' and then a pictorial globe. Apparently, I did this- I guess I would have been 8 years old- but I don't remember it at all.

Merry Christmas, everyone. See you Friday!

Punk as fuck

I went to see The Hold last night, expecting to sit back relax and have a few little beers. Upon arriving, I realized that the situation required an emergency double whiskey on the rocks. Very intense debauchery; mohawks, spikes and leather. I can't even fully describe it, but if you were there, you understand. Do you ever.

The best part had to have been when I was waiting at the bar and a 'Fuck Brigade' member drank an entire pitcher that Dimo just filled and handed it back to him to fill again. I'm not sure whether the look on Dimo's face was of shock, of fear, or of being impressed. It certainly was a 'what the fuck' face. Meanwhile, a little punk chick (like, 4 foot nothing) was listing off reasons to me as to why I should fuck her friend. Apparently, I wouldn't regret it. For reals. Beer spouting above the moshpit like old faithful, people just passing out and falling down. Things smashing. It was incredible.

I received The Yeah Yeah Yeah's album as a gift. Excellent album, CMAN. Thank you so much. So good to see you. All your friends are professional entertainers now and it's oh so funny, isn't it?

Boy you just a stupid bitch/and girl you just a no good dick

Last day of work, heading home after lunch.

You're a Rock Band

Brent said.

Ok...seems simple enough.

But doesn't ALT-POP seem like an oxymoron?

Doin' Stuff. During the past couple days of non-work work, I decided to get with 21st century program and put some band music/info on the internet. I hate categorizing things in general, but especially my music. Here's a myspace:

http://www.myspace.com/hotshotrobottheband

It'll get better, I promise. In the meantime, I welcome any suggestions on my category. Oh, and here's another picture- isn't Andrew's shirt terrible? haha.

Bearly's tonight!

Chris and Brent gave me this album for xmas along with MC5 and Velvet Underground.
I'm already feeling 83% cooler. I especially like it when I'm rocking out at my desk and the fat lady with the baby who stole my job comes over to ask me the same question (again again again), and my speakers suddenly blare: KICK OUT THE JAMS, MUTHAFUCKERS!!!!!!! I like it.

Last night, as I was recovering from the past couple weeks of party time, I sat in my living room staring out the window with snow falling in a catatonic state for a very long time, listening to Bjork's Vespertine. The only time I moved was to throw something into the kitchen when I heard shuffling noises...pens, inanimate plastic objects (as opposed to the animate type) etcetera. There's a mouse and he's getting quite friendly. Marc suggested I name him and give him a few hobbies. But now 'Clarence' seems to have taken over. Other than to quickly get something out of the fridge, I have avoided my kitchen for 4 days. Maybe more. I know I should trap him, but I can't imagine carrying out this process without crying for a very long time.

Job finally ends t-minus 3.5 days. I have never experienced any kind of ending in a succinct manner. I'm bored and surly. Calum, are you home yet?

Yes, I've gone photo crazy. This is mostly a diversion: Party at at the Lawerence Street pad ce soir. Which party dress shall I wear? Hmmmmm...

I also want to point out, despite some minor disappointment in certain people* (you'd think I'd expect such certain poop by now), how awesomely awesome fun last night was. I'm happy. It was a totally rockin' show. Jon Epworth is my rock n'roll hero.

*not plural, actually.


Here's to Brad playing 4 shows 4 nights in a row:




Gangsta!

THANKS DMC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Christmas has come early!!! Dmc sent us a zillion photos from our last 7 shows. HOTSHOTROBOT website coming soon! Yay!

p.s.-Don't forget to attend Gus's tonight! Special surprises! Wiggedty-Wack!

Right on. Last night was hirlarious. Fuck, I'm tired. But I WILL make it out tonight for Lindsay's benefit...and tomorrow night...and Friday for Lawerence Street xmas party...and Saturday for another xmas party. The fun never stops!

Sexy Shit

So, HOTSHOTROBOT didn't get to play last night due to an Andrew-double-philosphy-paper breakdown. I've been there, poor guy, so I didn't hold it against him.

BUT! TONIGHT: We play 'Flections. This, of course, is a masked attempt to practice before we play with Epworth as drummer at Gus's on Thursday. Sean is back but can't play with us again yet (-).

So, I'm letting go of my anal perfectionism in the name of spontaneous art. There is a possibility my head could explode. That would be punk rock. You should come.

Like, Whoa!

Swac suggests a likeness? This is a little creepy. I am...Joan Blondell?! This changes everything! Wait, no it doesn't. I'm a starlet. Deep down I knew this all along.
HOTSHOTROBOT will be playing tonight at 'Flections, despite the fact that we haven't practiced in over a month. Should be good times!

Rarrrrrr!

Dancing with my-self-ah!

Bearly's was totally fun last night. I must go every week now. I sang Madonna's Get Into the Groove and Love Shack with Nathan, even though he's the kareoke whore and hogs everything. Julia sang a hirlarious rendition of Rave On. Mimi called me crazy (I think). Alfred rocks the inflated guitar like no one can. Stephen is a talented country western singe and does an awesome dance move of jumping back and forth like a skier would over mougals (sp?)- not at the same time, mind you, but both are equally awesome.

Oh, and NOTHING clears a room like a sincere (yuck) rendition of My Funny Valentine.
Poor guy, whoever he was. He was serious. I think he was a friend of that Ritchie guy from Canadian Idol. Ritchie. That was too weird. He's not even that good. Well, technically good, but not fun good-and what's the good in that? It's a fucking party, man! Kareoke, man! Billy Idol, man!

I hate every ape I see/ from Chimpan-A to Chimpan-Zee

Totally! It hath snowethed. And it's supposed to snow again today!

First things first:
Dear Calum,
Expect a mail item this week.

Dear Readers,
Remember how I wrote to Dee and said I didn't like Christmas? Well, I think I've changed my mind, with an asterisk. I think I was suffering from a case of residual Student Christmas anxiety; where Christmas time is equated with panic, stress deadlines, all-nighters, sore brains etcetera. To all people suffering from the said maladie currently: my little angry heart goes out to each of you.

This weekend I indulged in some Christmas shopping. Students know that Christmas shopping is usually a scrambled process which occurs 2 days before 25th,on an excurciatingly small budget, with a still-sore brain. It was so nice to take some time to find one nice thing for special people in my life of whom, due to past student poverty, I couldn't previously reciprocate their generousity. I'm so totally stoked. Of course, I'm a firm believer in not going overboard. I hate it when people go gift overboard.

But perhaps the most warming experience this weekend was practicing and recording the Christmas song that Jeremy wrote for the FEED Nova Scotia Compalation. Jeremey is magic (not to mention, Montgomery Moth R Kooler Than U), and this song is pure Christmas magic. It even has some mandolin. We learned it Sat night (after which we got fucked up and jammed funk music, for like, an hour. Oh shit. That was supposed to be kept secret), and recorded it at DBN Rod's house yesterday.

Wittle Scraperton is so cute. Rod had to grab my pussy eerrr I mean his pussy off my lap when she was asleep and it was time for me to record. She was like wittle piece of soft white velcro. She feels suspciously a lot like my new scarf. In fact, she'd probably make a nice pair of wittle mittens (joking). Back in the day, I used to be anti-fur. Back in the day I used to be a lot of things involving an ethical/environmental conscience. Now I believe that one must chose their battles. But maybe deep down, the reason I poke fun at vegan culture is to hide the fact that when I was young and lived next to a farm, I'd cry myself to sleep when they took the baby cows away from the mommy cows to be trucked off to the veal factory. Sad mommy cows moan; it's really quite horrible. I didn't eat a cheeseburger for, like, 3 years. And I was a kid who liked cheeseburgers. A lot. Who am I kidding, I still like cheeseburgers a lot. And for this reason, I only enjoy those pictures from 'Let's get Baked' based on their comedic value to me. As for the commonly used poster slogan, 'Vegan baked goods served!, don't get me started. It seems a little ridiculous; would such a statement have the same effect if it read 'Baked goods' only? Food ingredients. Who Cares. Pfft. Or Maybe it's code for: "Sallow emaciated types welcome".


But I digress. I stayed out way past my bedtime again at Rockin' 4 Dollar$$$ (again)
and now I must get back to work.

I heard it from the guy/who heard it from the guy/who was told by the guy /who decides what is cool

I am in a volatile state of creation.

In recent days, I've been completely absorbed in intense deliberation of the state of 'cool' in this city.

Last night I wrote a song about this quest to find 'cool' in Smellafax; 'cool' as a tangible object-someone... something. The search turned out to be more fleeting and mysterious ( and of course, wacky) than the quest for bigfoot, I can assure you.


I just google image searched 'cool'.
Results:
-a light sabre
-a baby with sunglasses
-Jesus
...and a Got Milk ad.

This is hard. I'm gonna have to go with baby.