You know what gets me hot these days?
Computer geeks.
No, seriously.
8.30.2007
8.29.2007
To JW, from Hell
Dear Jack,
Why is it that The White Stripes rock so damn hard? I recently picked up your new album, Icky Thump, and I must have listened to it thirty times since. I can’t get enough of it, from Conquest all the way to A Martyr for My Love, which is my favorite track. After having been a band for so long, I guess I expected The White Stripes to get stale eventually. I suppose that I am used to that from a lot of bands who keep putting out what are essentially the same songs year after year. I am also used to only finding about half of an album enjoyable, whereas I can listen to The White Stripes (any album) all the way through and love what I hear.
I met you briefly when you were in Denver with The Raconteurs. I was the girl standing next to the guy with the foot high mohawk. No, I don’t expect you to remember, especially since I was entirely too star-struck to say anything to you. All I could do was shake your hand and stammer. I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out by tour busses, trying to meet my favorite stars. But, I was so impressed by how friendly and appreciative you were to all of your fans standing outside that day. Sorry to say, but I thought whatshisname was a prick. That’s probably why I’m not as much of a Raconteurs fan.
Your show with Meg last year at Red Rocks was amazing! I really hope you stop by again soon for another show. Thanks for putting out yet another kick-ass album! Say “Hi” to Meg for me too.
Love,
Neko
Why is it that The White Stripes rock so damn hard? I recently picked up your new album, Icky Thump, and I must have listened to it thirty times since. I can’t get enough of it, from Conquest all the way to A Martyr for My Love, which is my favorite track. After having been a band for so long, I guess I expected The White Stripes to get stale eventually. I suppose that I am used to that from a lot of bands who keep putting out what are essentially the same songs year after year. I am also used to only finding about half of an album enjoyable, whereas I can listen to The White Stripes (any album) all the way through and love what I hear.
I met you briefly when you were in Denver with The Raconteurs. I was the girl standing next to the guy with the foot high mohawk. No, I don’t expect you to remember, especially since I was entirely too star-struck to say anything to you. All I could do was shake your hand and stammer. I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out by tour busses, trying to meet my favorite stars. But, I was so impressed by how friendly and appreciative you were to all of your fans standing outside that day. Sorry to say, but I thought whatshisname was a prick. That’s probably why I’m not as much of a Raconteurs fan.
Your show with Meg last year at Red Rocks was amazing! I really hope you stop by again soon for another show. Thanks for putting out yet another kick-ass album! Say “Hi” to Meg for me too.
Love,
Neko
8.25.2007
Milestone in Movie Hell
Guess What?! I have reached the 50 mark over at Neko Goes to the Movies!!! It's been a lot of work and a lot of movies thusfar. My class project over at The Art Institute is actually the template for Neko Movies. It's not up yet, but we're getting close. There will be Flash and animations and loads of cool shit when it's finished - a totally new look for the site. I'm even going to change the title and give it it's own domain. So, look for those changes in the future. Oh, and thanks to the one person who's gone a voted for her favorite zombie movie. What the Hell are the rest of you waiting for?! Ghost? I'm so disappointed. Where's the love, man?
8.23.2007
What Fresh Hell is This?
Hey, has anyone been over to Neko Goes to the Movies lately? I'm up to 49 reviews now!! And, there's a zombie poll going on right now. So, what are you wasting time for?! Go and vote!!
HellTunes
My boss is being a cunt and a half lately. And I've been going off and getting irresponsible with my new friend.
Here's today's listening choice:
A Martyr For My Love For You by The White Stripes from the Icky Thump album.
Here's today's listening choice:
A Martyr For My Love For You by The White Stripes from the Icky Thump album.
8.17.2007
8.14.2007
Please Save This Dog From Hell
A collegue of mine is going to take her dog to the shelter if she can't find a new home for him. His name is Mick. He's a Cattle Dog Mix. The owner describes him as a wonderful, smart and loyal dog, but adds,"more energetic and time intensive than we can handle." I would really hate to see this dog sent to a shelter, so I'm hoping that someone will see this sweet face and adopt him. He's currently living in Colorado. I don't know if he's "fixed" or how old he is, but if you email me, I will get you in touch with the current owner. Here's another picture, my email addy will follow.
chibirisu@vegemail.com
Please use the words "Adopt Mick" in your subject heading.
8.10.2007
Welcome to Hell, Pig and Girl
I've just spend I dunno how many hours reading every single strip in this comic. It freakin' rocks! Of course, now I feel like telling bad jokes and beating people up.
8.09.2007
There is No Pee In Hell
I just walked into a bathroom stall,
unzipped my zipper,
started to undo the button above,
and wondered if I'd been walking around all day with my fly down.
Then, I remembered that I'd just unzipped it a millisecond ago.
I really need to stop smoking crack on my lunches.
unzipped my zipper,
started to undo the button above,
and wondered if I'd been walking around all day with my fly down.
Then, I remembered that I'd just unzipped it a millisecond ago.
I really need to stop smoking crack on my lunches.
8.08.2007
8.07.2007
8.06.2007
Tagging In Hell
Great. The one day in a long while that I've been over to visit ghost and what happens? I get tagged. Just great.
each player lists 8 facts about themselves, the rules of the game appear before the facts do, the player ends by tagging 8 people.
Neko Fact #1: I rarely drink anything that doesn't have either caffine or alcohol in it.
Neko Fact #2: I pay $19.00 a month for a membership to a gym I never visit.
Neko Fact #3: I'm not sure if I can cut it in this web design class I payed for.
Neko Fact #4: I despise the homeless.
Neko Fact #5: I won't kiss anyone who's just eaten meat.
Neko Fact #6: I can't stop spending money.
Neko Fact #7: I've hated smoking for years and I can't quit.
Neko Fact #8: I'm working on a new painting that I'm afraid to show anyone.
The only problem, ghost, is that I don't know 8 people! So, I guess, whomever might be reading this - you're tagged! (if you have a blog and unless you've already done this) Who am I kidding?! There aren't eight people who read Little Tragedies!!
each player lists 8 facts about themselves, the rules of the game appear before the facts do, the player ends by tagging 8 people.
Neko Fact #1: I rarely drink anything that doesn't have either caffine or alcohol in it.
Neko Fact #2: I pay $19.00 a month for a membership to a gym I never visit.
Neko Fact #3: I'm not sure if I can cut it in this web design class I payed for.
Neko Fact #4: I despise the homeless.
Neko Fact #5: I won't kiss anyone who's just eaten meat.
Neko Fact #6: I can't stop spending money.
Neko Fact #7: I've hated smoking for years and I can't quit.
Neko Fact #8: I'm working on a new painting that I'm afraid to show anyone.
The only problem, ghost, is that I don't know 8 people! So, I guess, whomever might be reading this - you're tagged! (if you have a blog and unless you've already done this) Who am I kidding?! There aren't eight people who read Little Tragedies!!
Another Great Artist Who Lives in Hell
Small Change (Got Rained on With His Own .38)
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad,
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill,
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said "Buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight"
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the Fifth Amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on Forty-Second Street,
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket,
Circled "Blue Boots" in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you Christmas cards in June, but
But Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And his headstone's a gumball machine,
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah,
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
~~Tom Waits
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad,
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill,
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said "Buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight"
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the Fifth Amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on Forty-Second Street,
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket,
Circled "Blue Boots" in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you Christmas cards in June, but
But Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And his headstone's a gumball machine,
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah,
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
~~Tom Waits
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