obfuscated girl

this week in hatering

Okay so I am still listening to almost nothing but the Girl Talk record, except right now I am listening to Tha Carter III because Emily was right (CONFIDENTIAL TO EMILY: YOU WERE RIGHT), and I have been reading all this stuff on the internet about how he has Sold Out, Mr. Talk has, and he is Speeding Up The Beats And Vocals To Make Things Fit And It Is Not The Same Thing As Putting Two Songs Together And Having Them Fit Together And The Joy In That, or something. So I went back and listened to the first one, and two things without concrete examples:
#1. Duh he does that all the time on the first record anyway.
#2. Kind of I don't think the point is whether or not the tracks fit together without fucking around with the speed. I think--at least the point that I am getting out of it--is just the sheer joy you get out of hearing it. The sheer audacity of putting a Tom Petty song with some rap song that I still don't recognize because I haven't gotten a chance to read the wikipedia article yet, but just the fact that there is a dude in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania who is walking around and thinks like this to put these things together--who loves music enough to do this--like, I can't imagine what being in his brain is like besides having the repeated conscious thought that it is a good idea to strip down to his underpants when DJing live--like, does he ever SLEEP?--there is no point to being all HE SOLD OUT I LIKED HIM BETTER WHEN HE WAS PLAYING IN MY FRIEND'S BASEMENT. I am so tired of people.

In other news: I made my first political campaign contribution last week. I am like totally an adult and stuff.

I am one hundred days away from completing The 365 Project at the photojournal. CRAZY

More than one of my friends have mentioned how much the new Hold Steady record sounds like the Counting Crows, more specifically what the last Counting Crows record should have sounded like, and when they first started claiming that I was all "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU" and now that I have listened to it (Sequestered in Memphis, live on The World Cafe) I kind of agree with them. Adam Duritz is going to start feeling real salty in about two weeks.
PS: You can stream the entire record before it comes out on The Hold Steady's Myspace. But you knew that already and the fact that I am pointing it out to you is just insulting.

It is Summerfest Time here in Milwaukee, and that means:

more underdressed chicks with insanely orange tans on the bus during daylight hours giggling into cell phones very loudly about how they are totally going to talk to Dashboard Confessional after his set

the absolute inability for people who are not at Summerfest to get cabs after midnight

not that I tried to get home for an hour last night and was almost stranded, no

Wisconsin getting the chance to get EVEN HIGHER on the percentage of people who drive drunk list

woo woo

me being a total sucker and agreeing to see the Roots at Summerfest with a coworker next Friday, because I have never seen the Roots live, and probably I will not see the Roots per se but the dude's back in front of me (and the dude in front of him, and so on and so on)

god dammit

t-a-k-e-no-p-r-i-s-o-n-e-r-s

Everybody go download Feed The Animals right now.

I would say more about this but dude just mixed "No Diggity" with "15 Step" and I am giggling like a maniac.
And "I Get Money" with that one song from the Rushmore soundtrack. And Busta Rhymes with "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic."
And "Roc Boys" with "Paranoid Android."
And "Come On Eileen" with something that I don't recognize.
And "In A Big Country" with "Whoomp! There It Is."
And "Push It" with "Lithium."

Oh my god how has this guy not been sued so badly and so often that he is peeing out subpoenas.

there was a rapture so i can never see you anymore

It is harder being tired on days like today. There are no clouds and there is heat, this pervasive oppressive heat that makes me hate walking and sitting on leather and just kind of everything everywhere, and I am still anti-air conditioner, so that is even worse. I would have just gone back to bed this morning but I am all sensitive to light and Steve Carrell was on that one morning program that I like and I think I am building a resistance to the melatonin that I am taking. It is hard being awake right now because I am this tired and waiting (not waiting, actively not waiting and totally not looking at the phone that is sitting right next to me for a phone call that may or may not be placed which may or may not (probably not) lead to coffee later this afterrnoon, because things just work out that way for me, and I'm trying not to be all wistful about what I have decided is The Foregone Conclusion that this person will not call even thought there were no established concrete plans about this Coffee Thing which makes the fact that I have worked it up in my mind and dismissed this person entirely even stupider , and I will finish this here heavily caffeinated beverage and go home and maybe go back to sleep but probably not and probably just be tired and caffeinated and try to read a book and not absorb any of it and then maybe call my dad and have an Extremely Bleary And Mumbly Happy Father's Day conversation and go to sleep at like 7:00.
I don't know what came first--the wistful and the Foregone Conclusioning or the tired. And like, all this shit that I like to talk about to excess when I have been drinking and wrote about here at least once about how internet dating is creepy and awful and weird and usually the dudes are Super Damaged in some way and they take their damage out on me? I am done with it? Here is the spelling-out of the above paragraph/giant run on sentence: I am [not] waiting for a phone call from a dude from the internet. I think the idea is that I haven't gone the full tilt and deleted the stupid internet profile because I am "curious," which really translates to "I still have it in the back of my head that there is this Perfect Person who Exists, and How Is He Going To Find Me Otherwise.
And that is so, so stupid.
I think that once I get some sleep this won't bother me so much. I think that once I settle into routines on weekends that do not involve being on the internet at all and having more time for Things To Do I will delete the damn thing entirely and be all like FUCK YOU INTERNET DUDES I AM MY OWN LADY. Or maybe I won't. Or maybe I will join the Army or an oder of nuns and embrace the Lord as my boyfriend and totally knit him sweaters and make mix CDs and stuff. Or maybe I am wrong about the foregone conclusion.
Who the fuck knows.

Here is a song about fathers. Not mine. Just fathers.

The National--Slipping Husband

this is a state of emergency, bitches.

It has come to my attention that Jay-Z talks about My Chemical Romance not once but TWICE in a song on Kingdom Come. I would like everyone to stop giving me shit for liking them now, please.
Last night I went to see these guys (I had never heard them but like they put out an album named after Marlo from The Wire. Who in their right mind would not want to experience that?) but however the band was apparently not in their right mind. The show was supposed to start at 9 so I figured if I left my house at 9 and took the half hour walk to Riverwest it maybe would have gotten to the first song of the first opening band. I got there and looked inside and I was literally the only person there besides the door dudes and the sound dude. The sound dude said "they soundchecked and then they disappeared." I have been to Mad Planet early before but I have never ever been THE ONLY PERSON THERE and as I did not feel like making uncomfortable small talk with the sound dude and the door dudes I called some people and we ended up at the Art Bar. And there was Art, and we made Art, and it was Glorious, and it has been Documented Obsessively at the Photojournal. Maybe not obsessively. Still and all: What the fuck, King Hell Bastard?
Today in Other Questionable Decisions: I am going to see the matinee showing of the Sex and the City movie in about an hour. I will emerge from it either horrified or secretly pleased or weepy or maybe all three or maybe with a subliminal implanted desire to spend the rest of my paycheck on a pair of Jimmy Choos. Apparently people dressed up here for the opening night, and apparently there were some, um, interesting fashion displays. Edit: Like whoa.
There have been distractions from the fact that basically despite recent events (this has been the Most Awkwardly Phrased Sentence In The World) I am not with anyone, I am alone, and that is fine it is fine it is fine, and I need to keep remembering that. This has been the Most Awkwardly Phrased And Most Cryptic Sentence That Has Been Written In The World Ever. Basically whining about how I am going to die alone and they will find my body half eaten by my seventeen cats was a cliche even before I started whining about it, and it is not interesting, and on the other hand the world is very interesting. So: there's that. Perry you still owe me $5.
The next couple weeks--fuck, the next couple months--are going to be Weeks Slash Months Of Countdowns. It is ten days until Gogol Bordello, and it is a month and twenty days until I am THIRTY. 30!
This is going to be HUGE AND AWESOME.