Give Me an Aspirin Mcgernicle, I Can't Feel My Legs...

Ladies and gents, it's been a long time and I've missed you dearly. I'm sorry for leaving you, but like a sobered up Irish husband taking the morning train into Dublin to apologize to his potatoe eating wife for drinking the wee ones milk money, I have crawled back to my moderately dry and warm hole with nothing but a hangover and a few blurry stories to explain months of absence. "Mcgernicle fetch yer father a pint, he itches for the gold of the leprechauns this fine hazy morrow"

But I digress....

Before telling you anything new and interesting going on in my life, let me begin by saying that I honestly thought I hated small towns before I moved here, but I'm beginning to think I may genuinely hate cities more. I've discovered that even though Prince is best summarized as a drunken smokey hole where the old curl up and die of scerosis and the young lose any aspirations that don't involve becoming a falsly enlightened hippie or a violent redneck, from what I've learned from Van, cities, although holding a virtual plethora of diversity, are still personality void holes of humanity where people only want attention-I use humanity in quite possibly the loosest terms possible because really many of the people here take on the attributes of animals or plastic lawn furniture. I once saw a girl that resembled a combination of an albatross and a skyblue fold-up lawn chair .

*If the government records every image I search, they are in for the ride of their life.

In Vancouver, the club scene is the worst for albatross lawn chairs. Now, I don't go out much. (I prefer to have a lonely drink by myself while honing my skills at duck hunt and resident evil...Jesus only knows that when the long foretold, zombie/mallard apocalypse comes I will be ready. I won't be off wasting precious time going bat-shit over "Umbrella" on the dimly dance floor and prancing around in half a chopped up unitard and strategically placed gold sticker ensemble after a day of soaking up rays on the beach like the hordes of super amazing actress/model/singer triple threats that so commonly frequents the club scene...please cut up a line of rat poison and get me to do it if you see me joining those masses. It shouldn't be hard to get me to do it, just tell me it's black tar heroine I'll be on it like white on rice.

Anyways, despite what this post has deteriorated to my intention was only to say that I miss my family, my friends, and even the personality of the retarded population of Prince George. Take this lesson from my words of wisdom: Just because a place sucks does not mean that anywhere else does it better. Vancouver is the whore who puts her makeup on with a shotgun, inevitably she'll stain your pillow case if you let her stay over.

Someone Please Write the Paper there's only a few days left...dAAAmnit

I give...and I give...and I give...You people just take.

The Beatles

Click

Terrorism at Its Best and Worst

So I heard on the radio this morning that tainted pet food has been found responsible for most of the recent unexplainable deaths of dogs and cats, and I've developed a working theory to explain who would be capable of doing such a thing.

Actually, that's not true. I don't really have much in the way of proof for this theory, just a sweet picture that I've been stoked about showing off for on here for while, and no way to tie it to anything I felt like posting. Just because Osama killed Steve Irwin-OSAMA USES STRINGRAY'S CHEST PIERCING BARB ATTACK, doesn't mean I can pin every senseless and unpredictable death on him. I'm sorry I lied Osama, but you kinda had this coming after you couldn't even wait the extra week to murder Steve on the anniversary of your worst terrorist attack on American soil: LaToya Jackson's 1991 released autiobiography "La Toya: Growing Up in the Jackson Family".

So guys and gals, even if Osama isn't at fault this time we can still take this tragedy as a learning experience. Feeding your animals soft pet food isn't just hard on your animal's teeth and digestive system, it has now been proven to harbor fatal amounts of an unknown toxin that will undoubtedly leave your furry family member dead or dying after four days of severe unrelenting pain.

Goodbye for now, I'm off to download Pokemon's most beautiful and seizure-inducing episode "Dennou Senshi Porygon" and feed my dog a can of soft dog food.

Sincerely,
-Computer Warrior Porygon

My Wrist Hurts...

Okay! So I'm over the week of soul crushing scholastic hell and I can now relax. I am now in a state of exhausted relief. That said, nothing that would interest any of the four loyal minions I've accumulated has happened recently, except for a few unmentionable things that could get me beaten or arrested and some things that would be funnier if you were there, like the time I stubbed my toe then punched my chair while wearing flood pants and a beer stained wife beater. Yeah...

Well anways, due the astounding amount of putrified shit I had to bathe in last week, I am now looking for someone willing to write my ten page poetry analysis for me. Yes I know, nobody likes a dishonest amoral pile of shit who doesn't deserve to be in university and I shouldn't lower myself to the level of an retard who can't write papers, but seriously I'm fucking tired. I don't want any more work and I will pay you fifty bucks.

Oh yeah speaking of retards, my friend Devon, or Dee as the masses of unimportants call her, entered a dance competition. She not only had to walk in unprepared and dance her ass off for over two songs, but she also got cock slapped in the face when to her dismay an adorably handicapped girl swooped in (okay that's not exactly true, she was actually wearing a cape and pretending she was a helicopter, but swooping sounds better) and used her spastically choreographed rendition of The Pussy* Cunt Doll's Song "Dontcha" to jiggle her way into first place.

Devon was a little disappointed with the XXL shirt that she recieved for second place, but I think this experience in the competitive world of dance is worth well over the cost of the 150 dollar pair of jeans that are were first prize.

Anyways to anyone that thinks they can successfully write my paper comment on here and I will talk to them about it. No idiots please.


-Velociraptor Cookie-Time

*Pussy: pronounced puh-see

Go to March 6th

If you scroll down there's a new post under March 6th that I finally finished for Talis. Thanks for the Star Trek picture Trev.

Handbanana

If you have a bit of time to kill watch this hilarious episode of Aquateen Hunger Force about a loveable dog called Handbanana who was created from the DNA of a gigantic shake. Did I mention he has a strong lust for hairy italian men?

Wicked

Fido

Happy Birthday Talis

I'm not sure why I never posted on Leni's birthday so I'm going to include a section for her too.

Great Video

Soulwax-E Talking

Vday

Is anyone with me when I say "Fuck Valentine's day"? Seriously, who the fuck was Saint Valentine anyways. Well I bet you V-day lovers don't have a clue. Let me fill you in. He was a 2nd century Roman who was martryed because he wouldn't give up his faith. He supposedly befriended (fucked) the jailors daughter while incarcerated and they had a bit of fling for awhile. They say he then left some sort of note either professing his love for her or his gratitude for her kindness (and exquisitely performed signature move thru-the-bars-handjobs) and as you may have guessed the thing said "From your Valentine". See to me, that story doesn't exactly leak credibility and romance, but I guess that's the Hallmark history that justifies the outrageous spending, Jesus.

I hope that most of the few readers of this blog will understand something at this point. I am not a bitter, lonely, and sad young girl who simply needs someone to give her a heart shaped box of assorted choclates and pink bear with a heart shaped nose that's wearing some sort of completely un-bearlike article of clothing to turn over her leaf and enjoy this "romantic" holiday. No, my friends. My hatred for Valentines day goes far beyond the normal blues and bitterness that single people normally get around this time of year. I'm not a suicidal emo kid longing for someone to cuddle. I'm just pissed off and here is why.

I'm sorry, but if anyone reading this blog says that they've ever gotten more excited over seeing an envelope than a mysteriously wrapped box they're lying. Cards are almost never funny. They aren't deep or thoughtful. Anything that is mass produced with a fucking baby wearing a flower shaped hat or a line of poetry that has long since become a soulless pimped out version of it's former self is not something that anyone-especially me- should want. So what does that leave, nothing but looking forward to the money inside, and sorry to say, V-day does is not a money holiday-oh the irony,

This is ironic on more than one level. First of all, Valentines day is meant to be this day of deep loving sincerety when anyone who cares about anyone shows it. See to me that would mean doing something special and well thought out for the person I love, by maybe telling them how I feel, doing some grand gesture, or even just being nice for once. However, as much sense as this makes, people still go out and buy the fucking ridiculously insincere cards, the very impersonal and expensive pieces of jewelry, and the very VERY uncute stuffed animals that will never amount to anything but a fucking bill and forty minutes stewing over whether Helen would like the orange Turtle with the top hat and candy better than the purple and magenta gorilla that sings "Love Shack"

Just a hint people, if Helen likes those fucking things it's time to move on asshole.

Anyways blog readers, since today is the Vday and I have had too many midterms, and parties to attend to lately I can't argue my points further. I'll leave you with one piece of advice though, remember to wrap it when you're getting your Valentines nookie unless you want the V in Vday to stand for something other than Valentines.

Love,

Tess

Stupidity Chronicles Part Three...or Maybe Four

Anonymous:tess tess the shmesh
Anonymous:a la desh
Anonymous:katesh
Tess Utah Saints says:Hey
Anonymous:hey hey hey hey
Anonymous:wats happnenin
Tess Utah Saints says:Just writing a blog post
Anonymous:cool
Tess Utah Saints says:I saw a commercial for a Valentines sale and got annoyed
Anonymous:haha good
Anonymous:why did you get annoyed
Tess Utah Saints says:I think it's a pointless and ironic holiday
Tess Utah Saints says:I don't like cards, I don't like bears
Anonymous:you need to be inlove or sumthing i guess tess
Anonymous:i dunno
Tess Utah Saints says:I think that people buying mass produced poetry and expensive jewelry is a corporate scheme
Tess Utah Saints says:No man, you need to be lobotomized to enjoy it.
Anonymous:haha
Anonymous:no im good thanks
Anonymous:you need to be snuggled
Anonymous:haha
Tess Utah Saints says:...haha
Anonymous:o well

Music Videos That Rock

Prodigy-Voodoo People (Pendulum Remix)

Pendulum-Slam

Prodigy-Smack My Bitch Up <<< This is a must see if you haven't seen it, easily one of my all time faves. You may need a Youtube account to view it.

Aphex Twin-Windowlicker *So weird and time consuming. I linked the shorter version.

Cummings

Okay, so I don't hate all poetry. I've found another guy I like other than Shel Silverstein, Dr. Seuss, and Edgar Allan Poe (yes I know bizarre mix).

pity this busy monster,manunkind by E. E. Cummings

pity this busy monster,manunkind,
not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)
plays with the bigness of his littleness
--- electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend
unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself.
A world of made
is not a world of born --- pity poor flesh
and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical
ultraomnipotence. We doctors know
a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell
of a good universe next door; let's go

Rejected

The first time I saw the was at Bernie and Greg's house about three or maybe four years ago. I thought I'd never be able to track it down and in time it slipped from my memory. I really hope everyone enjoys this as much as I do.

"My spoon is too big."

Art

I collected up some links to all the artists I've been looking at lately that I think are worth sharing. Some of you may already be aware of them (Alycia), some of you probably won't.

Elizabeth Layton: Cute old lady extraordinaire

Camille Rose Garcia:Probably getting something of hers tattooed on my body.

Luke Brown: Psychedellic Tool art.

Jenny Saville: Saw her stuff at the Saatchi gallery.

Death

Death

Mandatory Birthday Update

On my birthday from my family I recieved: a pink coat, four new novels, three new movies (two of which I already own), and a cake (that I didn't try) that has a crust made of marzipan (which I love). In theory I will receive a present from Devon (possibly a green shirt). I got many unwanted gifts including a moist almost fully naked guy trying to touch me with his slowly approaching limbs of doom that would undoubtedly give me some sort of bacterial infection or venerial disease. We named him moist naked guy then I buried his shoes in the snow and remaining clothes lofted into a tree. He never saw his wallet again, but I didn't want money, only vengeance so don't blame me.

I lost alot of sleep over this weekend, and I nearly slept through my afternoon classes today. That being said, I think it would be best to just leave this post unpolished and unfinished until I find more to say. But before ending this less than amazing post, I'll leave you with one quote that will stay with me for many years, it's insight shaking the very core of my being, and it's eloquently put manner leaving me feeling like I just read a stirring and meaningful poem. Read on my friends and your world will be turned upside down.

"One of my favorite hobbies is to stare at pigeons until I find the right moment to run at them screaming hysterically so I can make them scramble away in complete terror."
-Kyle Wickes

V.I.P 229

New years eve 2007

I started the night off at Brandon Cotes.

He was in party mode, dancing around.

Mike drove to pick up Lauren so she could come in for the night.

We went over to Colin's and I got to briefly visit with Mike and Marty before I headed off.


I was Kenny's date for the Ruin's Boardshop party.


They caught me on camera with my gigantic coat on at the door.


I quickly made my way to the liquor and saw Jen working there.

Norm poured champagne before the countdown. I started double fisting drinks around this time because I couldn't turn down champagne on new years.

Despite my best efforts to get drunk and make an ass of myself I kept it together and talked to alot of people...

...while Kenny got his picture taken with more girls than anyone...

...except for Sven who was the pimp of the night. (Not pictured: Deja, Amber, Kristina, and countless other girls clustered around him all night)

I didn't get very many pictures of myself, but Kristina took this weird one of me and Amber.

I did however get alot of pictures of Kenny.

Some of these pictures were good, some were drunk, some, like this one, were destructive (and drunk). He broke this table while dancing on it. When asked why he did it and whether he would pay for it he responded by pretending to karate chop it into bits with his hands while making a "HI-YA" noise. An inside source told me that some of the people throwing this party weren't going to let him come because apparently he has a reputation for getting into fights and breaking shit. I bet they're happy they let Norm sell him a ticket.

The table wouldn't be the last thing he broke that night.

We stayed til they ran out of mix and it shut down and then headed to Kenny's

I shouldn't have let him drive. (He drop kicked his own Christmas tree when we got to his place.)

Kyle came over after going to a party on Faulkner.

I didn't document the last half the the night much...

I was too busy smoking while being sloppily drunk

I got a picture of Kristina and I who were the last ones up

and a picture of Sven with red eye.

...if anyone is interested in seeing more of the new years Ruins party, Mike recorded the new years video and Norm took alot of pictures.

The party died down at the very civilized hour of eleven a.m. new years day.

Bath

I was taking a bath tonight. I'm definitely more of a 'bathe in your own filth' person than a showerer...or showeree? I donno. Anyways, for some reason I decided to flip onto my belly and put my face under water. This is something I haven't done since I was seven or eight and it really made me think about how much I've changed since then. Not just in size and maturity, but in almost every measurable way.

There is nothing about me now that is recognizably similar to the person I was then. There doesn't seem to be anything permenant about my personality from that moment to this. At what point did I change and can I even recall the person I was then well enough to know how I'd react?

I guess this is sort of lame philosophical post, but what I'm trying to say is why is it that people can never seem to successfully force a change upon their lives or the lives of others, but alternately we're in a constant state of flux-basically capable of doing anything. I don't know if there's anything permenant and solid about anyone, just a higher statistical possibility that they'll do one thing instead of another out of force of habit.

So, what if you get bored of those usual habits and begin to do everything differently out of boredom? Could you become a mysterious and unpredictable loose cannon or would you limit yourself because you've been thinking the same way so long that even your more random and seemingly unpredictable thoughts are cliches? Everything seems to have happened before but nothing ever gets done.