Wednesday, January 31, 2007

why do i want these things in my bed...?

so my stress energy is manifesting itself in raging nesting rituals. for example my sudden need to buy new sheets... proving more difficult than you'd think. is anything not flannel these days? yuck, flannel. i canonly find really repulsive colours in normal sheets. why doesn't american apparel hop on that boat?

i don't really feel like investing ungodly amounts (again) at the specialty bedding store in my neighbourhood but the options are so limited...and hideous.

who names these sheets? do any of these sound like anything you want to put in your bed?

. mushroom
. cedar (green)
. straw
. butter

and i guess all they could come up with for blue was "navy".

other suggestions for sheet-colour names, by me:

. gray = razor blades
. blue = puddle of windex
. white = angry persian kittens
. brown = scalding coffee
. green = people with advanced leprosy
. orange = feral pony
. off-white = curdled milk
. stripes = itchy
. dark blue = navy

and of course, i would recommend the democrats print pictures of their daddys on linen. four words? martha stewart home collection.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

i sum up all the power of the dinosaur comics "GASP!" when i ask you...

why did you not tell me we had wild ponies in alberta?

i have lived here five years, people!

we are officially broken up (you and i). because we have wild ponies in alberta and you did not tell me. my roommate uses the term 'feral ponies' but i am omitting that kind of negative vocabulary from my realm of acceptable pony vernacular.

yeah. i had to see it on the news this morning, and i now have hot coffee all over my yoga pants. coffee doesn't belong there on any level. probably even spiritual.

wild ponies.
ponies, people.

i am gonna go see those damn ponies, no thanks to any of you. i will see them and live amongst them and kiss their little pony bellies like the guy from Grizzly Man kissed seal bellies. which is to say: adorable and raving-mad.

again... we are broken up.

except rhianna- who should have told me, but has a car and pony interest and oh you and i will be going to see those ponies before i leave the topside country, rhianna.

100 years of tar-induced cancer

tar pond cleanup. how would i clean up the tar ponds? well, let's go with the popular cure-alls of our time.

. chiropractors
. lipitor
. fewer carbs
. hybrid technology
. some U2 charity that al gore can then make a movie about
. hold the feet and say "i love you" (okay, elvis's autism techniques aren't exactly contemporary, but let's just roll with it.)
. oil of olay tar pond rejuvenation/revival/something with 'r' daily facials and cream

my suggestion, however?
. truck full of otters, dolphins, belugas and magestic orcas to absorb the tar. then we burn them for delicious fuel.

failing all these methods, i propose a campaign for real tar pond beauty.

how to insult a lady and/or tell her she is delicious, according to elvis movies.

it wasn't the gyrating king of sequins himself, but a couple of black thugs in change of habit (elvis + mary tyler moore movie flail) who start insulting the black nun in a way i just have to marvel at... that is, a baffling cross between condescension and... wait a minute...compliments? he says it like an insult. but then you pause and have to wonder if he is coming on to her.

example #1: "she's not black...she's just been dipped in maple syrup."

example #2: "no you won't [keep fighting us]. you're too sugary sweet to fight back"

if you haven't watched this movie, you should. if only for the chance to see elvis cure autism by holding a girl's feet and saying "i love you"...and of course performing the song we all know (and love) as "Rubberneckin".

Saturday, January 27, 2007

guess who found her paintbrushes hiding in the studio

yeah, it was me.

here's some chinchillas i painted up real quick-like last night.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

pictures senator james webb could have pulled out from the background props that would have been better and more impressive (to me)

hi people.

now if you're even a little like me, and you planted yourself in front of CNN to watch the state of the union address (with a can of cider and a bowl of popcorn) ... good for you. if you stayed for the democratic response, i really don't know what to say. what the hell were they thinking? seriously. democrats? who is writing your speeches? it was a whole, long rant of: "the president said this–we look forward to working with him on it; the president said that–we hope that is the case" so on and so forth. there's a snap at the end, but that's buried under the mountain of protocol-speech... a polite little dooty-dooty-doo speech that sounds like it was written by their 5th grade daughters.


if you noticed how the speech was interrupted with this little gem of a "what i did over my summer vacation"...

I want to share with all of you a picture that I have carried with me for more than 50 years.

[sure enough, he reaches off-camera and pulls out a big, honking framed picture...i snearly spit cider everywhere.]

This is my father,

[i die inside...]

when he was a young Air Force captain, flying cargo planes during the Berlin Airlift. He sent us the picture from Germany, as we waited for him, back here at home. When I was a small boy,

[oh god...seriously?]

I used to take the picture to bed with me every night,


because for more than three years my father was deployed, unable to live with us full-time, serving overseas or in bases where there was no family housing. I still keep it, to remind me of the sacrifices that my mother and others had to make, over and over again, as my father gladly served our country. I was proud to follow in his footsteps, serving as a Marine in Vietnam. My brother did as well, serving as a Marine helicopter pilot. My son has joined the tradition, now serving as an infantry Marine in Iraq.

so here is a list of pictures that would have made me hurt a lot less. in my soul.

a. an angry lion...

b. a magestic orca whale

c. highschool art class drawing of girlfriend in sunset

d. picture of himself in a bob ross painting club with successful painting

e. picture proving he was on a sexy swimteam

f. man running alongside gigantic clydesdales

what's his next picture-reliant move? my guess?

motivational poster.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

my single thought on the upcomming grammy awards & nominations


i honestly could not care less, if i tried.

Monday, January 22, 2007

VC physical/mental preprecussions

at dwight's condo-warming party last weekend, a bunch of the VC gang were discussing all our quirks and the various ways in which our major has damaged us- ranging from the mild (crying under tables, circles under eyes...) to the extreme (one girl had to leave because her face froze up under stress-related paralysis. it's not something you recover fully from.)

personally, i can attest to:

a) indecision over small things (no, rhianna, this isn't just me apparently- pretty much everyone in the room said they were rendered completely incapable of deciding things that weren't related to a project...)

b) i really didn't tell anyone but i went blind for a day. third year. i had a breakdown one night and the next morning the alarm clock goes off, i snap on the light and .... nothing. i wave my hand in front of my face. i panic. and my general response to anything physically disturbing (breaking my foot, for example) is to pretend it didn't happen and sleep. so i basically missed a day of class and shed some under-eye circles. and that was that.

c) nervous twitches

d) lots of hyperventiating and crying. i turned in few projects that didn't have tear drops on the cover.

e)others: the usual paper cuts, sleeplessness, followed by insomnia...caffeine addictions, a bruised tailbone, migraines, and i passed out in class once.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

quadraphonic tragedy

i think i was the only person in the room who wasn't completely dazzled by the "quadraphonic" exhibition of flaming lips. it said it was a "listening party". well, dude, parties are not interrupted between tracks, and guests are not forced to listen to page after page of pretentious i-used-to-be-in-public-speaking-club ravings explaining what each song meant: either personally, spiritually, or just best guesss based on the lyrics.

the breakdown of why i didn't like it:

the physical discomforts
a) the guys on the upper railings kept flashing lights directly into my luscious, dainty retinas
b) it involved lots of walking around aimlessly between 'worlds' (read: speakers). this was positive in one way only: that i could scope out the disagreeable gathering of dreadlocked, shaved-head, emo idiots who bopped and 'whisped' and stung-by-bees-danced by.
c) it was too hot and halfway through i had to excuse myself to the washroom to worm out of my tights which were under my pants.

the spiritual discomforts:
a) sure, the music was better than not- i like the flaming lips. who doesn't? but watching unattractive people sway and march around is only so amusing for so long. not conducive to longterm engagement.
b) so many people i totally didn't like at all. at all. god bless charles & rhianna.
c) people would not. stop. saying. "quadraphonic".

as far as "parties" go... if i went to a party that tried to pull the same interruptive, disinteresting, watch unappealing people etc crap? i would walk out. whether or not they had good music on the stereo.

the silver lining was i got to imagine kissing marc's belly between psychotic, adorable rants like he were the seal and i were the grizzly man, featured in one segment of the 'found footage festival'...

mwah mwah mwah!
"i would die for you!"
mwah mwah mwah!
what's that? you want me to swim north with you?
mwa mwah mwah!
you do?!
mwah mwah mwah!
but i don't have blubber!
mwah mwah mwah!
i bet you'd feed me too, wouldn't you!
mwah mwah mwah!

what kid says "I was to..." ? apparently i did.

i emptied my camera onto my hardrive and found a couple things i'd forgotten about. one, was a commemorative-to-me picture- apparently i made it in kindergarten -and my parents had decided to frame it recently and hang it up in what used to be my room. is now some sort of muddled space for spinning wool, playing nintendo and something that involves a gigantic inflatable peanut.

so anyhow, here is the earliest kaylen drawing i (and therefor you) are privy to.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

first couple in a series...

...of work-environment posters by me.

two bits:

bit #1: this afternoon, the CNN weather guy said "va-voom!" . what is the world coming to?

...'cause i like it.

bit #2:this gets my vote as the ugliest/laziest myspace layout in the galaxy.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

little, excellent, somethings to look forward to

. reviews of calgary's high performance rodeo (as requested by the new, trimmed, to-be-pierced mark hopkins- the delightful man-panther that he is.) that's right. i'll be sitting somewhere in the audience with a pad of paper and a sharpie, executing further brilliant, mind-blowing reviews. for you! because i love you.

review themes to expore:
1. euphemisms
2. music review jargon
3. food review jargon + general metaphors therein (are you excited for this one, you little, glistening petit fours? i am.)
4. zoo animals!
5. surprise endings
6. meta-reviews
7. things you could never imagine

Friday, January 12, 2007

hit or miss? survey says: 'miss'

last night, in order to escape a meeting of my roommate's and re-insert myself into the calgary scene, i went with rhianna & kathleen to what i believed was an opening for a show of our friend's artwork. it was actually a collective show from the drawing department at ACAD. what a trip down "ha ha..." memory lane. we got first-job salary quotes from the instructors today and let me tell you: i couldn't be happier that i switched majors.

the show's title was "hit or miss" and i give it an "a" for honesty. some of the better quotes of the evening...


kathleen: i think that one's ghandi
kaylen: which one?
rhianna: both of them.
kaylen: maybe not the one who looks so...discomforted by the other ghandi.

(stand around staring at a collage of stencils and crap taped to the wall with electric green painter's tape)

rhianna: i get the feeling this one is the remnants of a piece that is hopefully better.
kaylen: bigger.
rhianna: more gigantic.
kaylen: but mostly just 'better'
rhianna: someone said "hey we're having a drawing department show, do you want to contribute anything?" "well, i do have a bunch of crap leftover on my desk..."
kaylen: "but you have to bring your own tape."
rhianna: "BYOT"
guy interrupting: these are from some artwork that's hanging in trepanier baer
rhianna: i knew it!
kaylen: do you know if it's any better than this one?


kaylen: i like her boots
rhianna: she is pretty stylish all around.
kaylen: let's push her down the stairs and take her clothes.
rhianna: just her clothes
kaylen: right.
rhianna: "we're not raping you- we just want your clothes. you can keep your honour"
kaylen: "your 'treasure'"


(kind of neat/bad painting of a forest with animals...)
rhianna:this is like a collage of every disney movie ever. and the hound
kaylen: the sick-looking dog movie
rhianna: right, 101 dalmations
kaylen: watership down- oh wait, that's not disney at all.


all this intermingled with hypothetical enactments of what we would shout to each other from between the snack tables situated on the different levels of the gallery. involving lots of cheese-wedge throwing and "no not those crackers...the grainy ones...not the ancient grains ones. the ones by the terrible cookies. yeah. no the other terrible cookies."

the catering could not have been worse, by the bye. seriously. not only were the foods bad together, they were bad all on their lonesome...

they had:
1) plastic-tasting cheese wedges of baffling origin
2) potato chips
3) salsa & old tortillas
4) spinach dip
5) some peppers and carrots
6) horrible cuts of wraps which smelled like underarm and tasted like someone's horrible attempt to chemically re-create the flavour of old crab.
7) cookies which i didn't bother to pick up
8) orange juice
9) cherry tomatoes rolling around on various plates
10) grapes whose only flavour was "eek! seeds"

Monday, January 08, 2007

things i have left with marc

. raging sleep deprivation

. sweet sweet memories of what it is like to have a drunken me insert a tube of burt's bees chapstick up his precious left nostril while making "shhhh... shhhh... no...hush." sounds of reassurance.

. a handfull of blank cd's that were in his car- i named them "ben", "cesaro", etc and drew animals on them. an alpaca, some duck-billed platypuses, birds and dancing peanuts. he thinks everything from my whales to birds to dancing peanuts with top hats are phallic in some sense...

. a general notion of 'how not to mix drinks' as demonstrated by yet another instance of drunken me.

. memories of reading risque little beat stories to me in bed from over the rainbow? hardly. (collection of short seizures'

. memories of naming fish at petsmart (and meowing at them)

. catch phrases: "(insert noun/verb/anything)?"; "is that a euphemism?"; inversions "what isn't a euphemism?"; "your mother (pause) twice.""if i had a band it would be called (insert last thing said)"

. the knowledge that i referred to all his friends and friends of friends as "negroes" and "bitches" on our way out of the party

. swollen lips & pocket change

. bad local art. but he had that to begin with. oh, button nebula...

. an understanding of how to criticize museum artwork in a way that will probably get you either a) lots of giggles or b) more than a lot of disapproving looks

. drunken me epithelias. epithelials everywhere.

. irreverence and irreverence again.

. possibly an earring

. jealous jewess (slightly frizzy)

. a mind that is sufficienty blown. i do have these disclaimers for a reason....

an addition to the captain zigzag interlude

hello, little goslings. what is new in the neighbourhood? what is the 'haps'? are there 'haps'? i am just assuming. i feel like i haven't really talked to you in awhile. probably because i was busy blowing marc's mind, and not your own, with my saucy magma-filled volcano of a self.

note: thanks for claire for appropriate and inventive erruption sound-words.

you're lucky i'm back. the snappy guy who checked my luggage told me i could board my plane but i was late to check in (really? an hour previous is late?) and that i'd be pulled off the flight, most likely. well, i wasn't. he was dumb and spastic.

anyhow- if you don't read rhianna's blog, well a) you are one weaksauce little monkey and b) you should go read this entry which illuminates to you the situation of captain zigzag and ourselves.

bits rhianna missed because she was delighting in conversation with travis and not the crazy old sea-bag:

CZ: i have been working on my third eye lately
me: what like...with lasic surgery?
CZ: in yoga. i am learning from –
me: –do they take skin from your ankles or something?


CZ: my mother also read us Don Quixote
me: GAY
CZ: i am a windmill charger
me: maybe aim for totem poles instead.
CZ: ?
me: ugly native art. too verticle.
CZ: i like totem poles
me: you are not a reliable source of taste.


CZ: and then i go without food and shoes for weeks in the forest.
me: i bet your foot-bottoms are really unattractive.
CZ: (blah blah blah talking about some doctor who lifted up his foot and said "what healthy feet!")


and then of course he was describing to me this man he learned from- tried to convince me that NASA scientists had studied this miracle man, who started to sound more and more like a pony by way of references to his "gait" which was "like water flowing down a mountain". to which i commented "wait-he runs like water flows down a mountain? that doesn't sound healthy at all".

i chimed in with random inquiries about bears and ponies to no avail. my disapproval descended to saying "i am all about disapproval this year", various racist remarks, and squinting endlessly in skepticism and pure, unfiltered distaste for his chummy, spiritualistic drivel. and yeah. the eventual:

CZ: "I get it! You want me to stop talking and leave you alone! I'm sensing with my intuitive third eye that you wish I hadn't forgotten my keys! Well then. Au Revoir!"

Kaylen: ".....I hate you."

i bet he doesn't even have a boat.

also something rhianna sai:
cz: "this is my business card! it's green."
rhianna: "i've seen greener."

Sunday, January 07, 2007

list of "too cool for school" in 2007

. executions
. gerald ford (because he is clumsy. and dead)
. cancer comics
. laughing at how lame graffiti is
. male VPL
. asymmetrical earrings
. beta max envy
. $1 bills
. marc (with a 'c')
. state police
. mojitos
. global warming continues to rule. it just keeps getting better, folks!
. 50mph speed limits
. referrings to animal equivalents for anatomy (example: hoves = feet; goslings = toes)
. volcanoes continue to be awesome
. glowing reviews by me
. allegories
. beating up allegorical figures
. laughing at architecture
. replacing che memorabilia with pinochet memorabilia
. ulysses s. grant and confederacy in general
. croquet. that's right. turn in those raquetball shorts for some visors and those mallet things.
. disapproval
. making breastfeeding women feel uncomfortable

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

the earliest review of marc in marc review land

what are some good errupting-with-joy onomatopoeias? villagers, get back to me, because by the end of the stay with marc i would like a good onomatopoeia and apparently there is no real onomatopoeia-thesarus equivalent. for shame, people, get on it. so all you villagers prone to erruptions (as stated in christmas anti-present magazine featuring bees and backpacks you can send to poor africans...) let me know what it sounds like.

marc is truly a sensation: a dazzling display of fruitful humour, harvested by slaves of wonderment, dripping with sweat that is metaphorically delight and convenient washer/drier arrangement.

marc also has square bowls and you can just imagine how much i love that. i know, it's a lot, right?

in conclusion: marc is the overall feel-good company of the year.

being a jerk isn't official until you laugh at things like cancer comics...

ha ha ha... IV bags.

while looking for this comic:

i somehow wound up with strip after strip of people's attempts to illuminate and share their personal cancer experiences in comic form. hilarity ensues on my part. and i am a horrible person. it is right up there with the collection of pro-anorexic websites and suicidal teenage poetry websites i have in my giggle stash...

Monday, January 01, 2007

a question for all y'all hoes....

why is my name not khaki jones?

yeah, but seriously.

i give you... the list of gay for 2007

(items on list not limited to 2007)
. families
. "ancient grain" bread
. wrinkle softeners
. tornados and most if not all tropical storms
. the name "aiden"
. five dollar bills
. grandmothers
. white mascara
. text messaging (you know this. if i have to tell you that texting someone over a phone is gay-- you are sans hope)
. boots
. delaware
. the sharpies with the click thing instead of the cap
. eucalyptus
. throwing keys to someone