Happy Birthday. It's an Intervention.
The Canary's third anniversary is coming up in exactly 21 days, people. And I have survived. By a string, but survival nonetheless. Nails still bitten to the quick. But still. The only question is how to celebrate. Last year I took the girls to Lolita for a night of fancy enchiladas and fresh watermelon margaritas...but this year it's not so simple. I've got one baker who influences another baker to hate the third baker ...oy, girls. What a pain in the ass. SFG says I should just do something, invite them all to a party somewhere with booze and hope for the best. But my ego fears no one will show up. Fuck it. Maybe I will just take myself to Mercato and let them sort it out on their own. Stupid females.
***
I bought 4 tickets to Franz Ferdinand today. DID YOU KNOW you can buy tickets at the TLA box office for Electric Factory without paying those ridiculous Ticketmaster surcharges? I could even ride my bike right up to the ticket window. The Electric Factory website doesn't tell you this dirty little secret. Shysters.
Anyhoo, since SFG refuses to go, I have invited Turkey Boy, who is looking forward to the outing with 'Queenie' (that's me). I have also invited Madame Mimolette, who is looking forward to watching Turkey Boy in his civies...the fourth ticket is a wild card...this person could make or break our little soiree....who knows...it might be a nice girl for Mme. Mimolette....hmmm?
By the way, I don't know what they put in that album, but I am totally addicted to that shit. I am fully aware of my softspot for toothless pub pop...but I. Just. Can't. Stop. Aural heroin. The album's no doubt got some clunkers, but still...it's just wickedly obnoxiously catchy and fun and it's got some nice funk and some '80s vibes going (Soft Cell on the palette? Divine on the nose?)...I don't know, but it's not healthy, this addiction...make it stop. But don't.
That is all for now. I must get back to Easter lambs and macaroons...Oy.
***
I bought 4 tickets to Franz Ferdinand today. DID YOU KNOW you can buy tickets at the TLA box office for Electric Factory without paying those ridiculous Ticketmaster surcharges? I could even ride my bike right up to the ticket window. The Electric Factory website doesn't tell you this dirty little secret. Shysters.
Anyhoo, since SFG refuses to go, I have invited Turkey Boy, who is looking forward to the outing with 'Queenie' (that's me). I have also invited Madame Mimolette, who is looking forward to watching Turkey Boy in his civies...the fourth ticket is a wild card...this person could make or break our little soiree....who knows...it might be a nice girl for Mme. Mimolette....hmmm?
By the way, I don't know what they put in that album, but I am totally addicted to that shit. I am fully aware of my softspot for toothless pub pop...but I. Just. Can't. Stop. Aural heroin. The album's no doubt got some clunkers, but still...it's just wickedly obnoxiously catchy and fun and it's got some nice funk and some '80s vibes going (Soft Cell on the palette? Divine on the nose?)...I don't know, but it's not healthy, this addiction...make it stop. But don't.
That is all for now. I must get back to Easter lambs and macaroons...Oy.
posted by Oy Vey at 8:30 PM
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