"This sea of writhing bodies had better fucking lead to Kage..."
You've been hanging round With an enemy of the state Come with me to the building That no one stops to watch
Come on, bleed Bleed for me
We'll strap you to a pipe Electrodes on your balls C'mon scream C'mon writhe Face down in a pool of piss
We're well trained by the CIA With Yankee tax money in Ft. Bragg The Peace Corps builds up labor camps When they think they're building schools, ha!
Anytime Anywhere Maybe you'll just disappear
~ Dead Kennedys
Soooo...um...hmmmm. Not too much happening in my life right now, what with being stuck in hop-sital and all, but there are a few interesting updates. Pretend you’re interested for a moment, k? Then you can go look at some German porn sites, cuz even I can admit that they’ve got me beat for content and plot at this particular moment.
Update #1. I wrote to Jello Biafra, demanding to know when he would be gracing my city and regaling me with his cape-ed ablutions of the world’s politics. To my absolute shock, someone actually replied. To my utter dismay, it was merely to inform me that Mr. Biafra had no intentions of even gracing my continent anytime in the near future.
Oh, and he also said that Mr. Biafra must respectively decline my offer of some pants-less Jello wrestling. Pooh.
See? I wasn't shtting you, he wears a cape.
Update #2. My relationship with Polski, the dancing octogenarian, has hit a somewhat sticky patch. When he saw me yesterday walking with my dad, he accused me of having another boyfriend. When Dad replied, “Actually, this is my daughter”, Polski asked him how old I was and how much Dad would take for me. Update #3. I’m looking and feeling a bit better.
Desperately trying to teleport Henry Rollins to my hop-sital
bed by telekinesis....
....but I haven't seen him yet. Fucker.
Update #4. I am very upset with some of the nursing staff right now. I had just perfected how to screech around a corner in a standard issue hop-sital wheelchair and then end the sprint in a flawless triple pirouette when they came and took my toy away from me and told me to go back to bed. My cries of needing to train for the next Olympics Fancy Wheelchair Dancing Event went unheard. Chuh.
Update #5. I’m pining for someone, and for once it’s not Henry Rollins, though of course I am always pining for him. But you know who you are, other person.
Update #6. Speaking of Henry “MyPecsDanceOnlyForKage” Rollins! He has a new book coming out!
"On Tuesday, we will be announcing the pre-sale of my new book called Occupants. We will be getting them before the stores do and worked it out with the publisher so we can get them out there asap. This is the book I have been telling you about, the photo/essay book that took me eight years to complete. If you go to HenryRollins.com, you will see the announcement on our store page. Also on Sunday, I will write about it on my Dispatch page on the site. On Tuesday we release the presale thing. It will be on my site and I will also tweet the address at noonish on Tuesday. I will be signing a limited number of these when they arrive in mid September." www.henryrollins.com
I encourage you to get this book, but NOT UNTIL I HAVE MINE. He’s gonna sign the first however many of them, and if YOU get a signed one and I DON’T? THERE WILL BE FIRE, and someone is gonna get hurt. I’m not saying who, but it’s gonna be you.
Aaaaargh! Fuck! They didn't announce our
goddamn wedding again, Kage! Who's to blame?!
WHO'S TO BLAME?!?!?!"
We're gonna get in our car, we're gonna go go go Gonna drive to a neighbourhood Kill someone we don't know
DRIVE BY SHOOTING!
We're gonna go out killing, that's what we're gonna do It might be your sister, or it might be you!
DRIVE BY SHOOTING!
Sipping on the Night Train - FIRST GEAR! Cruising down the Interstate - SECOND GEAR! Smoking on the angel dust - THIRD GEAR! I think my head's about to bust - FOURTH GEAR!
DRIVE BY SHOOTING! WATCH OUT FOR THAT PIMP!!!
~ Henrietta Collins and The Wifebeating Childhaters
It will come as no surprise to...well, any of you, that I am a sporadic and somewhat unreliable blogger. But to those of you who feel this way, may I defend myself by pointing out that a) I’m pretty, and b) get bent. I’m a busy lady.
However, it has recently occurred to me that I have neglected a few things that are important to me, here in Bloggieland. Back in April, the lovely Stephanie at Seriously? Reeealy? Seriously? was kind enough to give me a lovely blog award - which I, shamefully, forgot to pass on.
“Disgusting!” I hear you cry into the atmosphere. Ah, but it gets better.
The Lovely Crkts Galore, over at Kick Her Right In The Habit, also gave me a lovely bloggy award, which I also forgot to pass along.
“War crime!” I hear you shout. But let me finish.
Yvonne from Attracted To Shiny Things has sent an award my way too, and suddenly I have realized just what an ungrateful cow I am. Moo.
What can I say people? Except that it really does pay to put a topless picture of yourself on your blog. As evidenced RIGHT HERE.
Okay, so now you need to pretend you want to know seven more things about me that you didn’t know before. I know that technically, I should be writing 21 things about myself, as there are three blog awards to hand out. But even I don’t want to know 21 things about myself, so I'm sparing you the agony and only writing seven.
1. I am once again in hop-sital for being too skinny, among other things. This means that absolutely not a single one of of these sad old octogenarians wandering the hallways of the hop-sital looking for death or redemption will be safe when my boredom kicks in. Not ONE.
2. I was horse crazy as a teenager. I drove out several times a week to take english riding lessons on my horse, Chip. I didn’t name him, the poor bastard.
3. I became the manager of a coffee shop when I was 17. I had big dreams, baby.
4. When I was around 7 or 8, the whole family trooped down to Australia to meet the family. I remember being in the barn with my brother, sitting on haystacks as we watched my cousins’ band. I can’t remember who played what, but Justin, Sheldon and Gerard played INXS for us Canadian kids. I went back to Canada and for the next four-five years expounded to the world that INXS were, in fact, my cousins Justin, Sheldon and Gerard.
5.I have been writing something for a class I have been doing that I’ve decided to force you guys to read it, too. Suckers.
6. The only friend I still have from high school is a Jehovah’s Witness. Everyone else judged me and decided I was too worldly and closed their doors to me. So swallow that one.
7. I took the name Henrietta Collins as a way to be closer to my husband, Henry Rollins. Henry once released an album called Drive By Shooting, under the name Henrietta Collins and The Wifebeating Childhaters. I figure that since a) I want to be his wife, b) I want him to beat me, and c) I hate children, it was the perfect sobriquet.
Okay, enough crap about me, it is now time to ruthlessly drag seven other bloggers into the topless oil wrestling ring with me and force them to fight for the right to touch Henry Rollins' left pec. And again, I realize that because I received three awards that I should be giving you 21 new blogs, but also again, I don’t wanna. So piss off.
Here they are, in no particular order, for whichever award they would like to take:
Okay, that's it for now. I gotta go, I hear a sad and lost octogenarian trying to sneak past my room.
"So yeah, Henry and I were married on Halloween night in a graveyard, and you wouldn't believe how great sex against old gravestones can be! Here, I have a picture. You can see it because in five
minutes you'll forget everything I've just said anyway..."
"Kage! Are we gonna get married or what? Hurry up!
These leather pants are melting my nuts off."
We got a drug We're gonna try it out on you Won't make you die It'll getcha just a little bit sick
Got a head cold Got a chest cold And it's three days old (Goin' on forever) Make you hazy Make you lazy Drive you crazy For days and days and days and days and days And years
Barely got the time now To stay on the job Double up the dosage in your water supply Make you even sicker 'til you're slippin' away
Getting all depressed It's getting all your friends You can't get it up For nothing that'll rock the boat
The government flu
~ Dead Kennedys
It’s back into the hop-sital for me Where I’ll sit inside and stare out at the trees You can’t go out, you’re crazy, don’t you see? You’re a threat to yourself and others, just like me
So I’ll sit in bed and pretend that I don’t care That my teeth fall out and I’m losing all my hair And---
Wait, what? Sorry? There’s a confused elderly gentleman in the corridor who doesn’t know who Henry Rollins is, or that I might not be married to him?
I’ll be right there! Lemme just print up a new wedding photo...
This fucking city is run by pigs They take the rights away from all the kids
Walk down the street I flip them off They hit me across the head with a billy club
Nothing I do, nothing I say I tell them to go get fucked They put me away
Understand we're fighting a war We can't win They hate us, we hate them We can't win - no way
~ Black Flag
A couple of months ago I was innocently cyber-stalking Henry Rollins and his beautiful pectoral muscles when I came upon (haha! get it? came upon? ahhhhhhh. hi, I'm twelve) a picture so beautiful, it nearly made me weep.
Henry: "Kage, you're under arrest for stealing my heart!" Kage: "Oh, Henry. I stole your pants, too."
“What is that from?” I cried, when I was done licking the screen.
Why was my baby in a cop car, in a cop uniform? I wondered. I could immediately tell that it wasn’t from his band’s video for "Liar" as, even though he was dressed as a cop in that video too, he didn’t actually have a cop car.
I did some more stalking digging and discovered that once upon a time, some guy made a movie, and had the brilliance of forethought to cast the Henry Rollins as one of the leading roles. Produced in 1994, "The Chase" is an action-packed comedy about an innocent man who escapes from prison (Charlie “Lemme-Do-A-Two-Gram-Rail-Off-Your-Tits” Sheen) and gets busted for stealing a car. He takes a hostage (Kristi “I-Was-The-Real-Buffy-What-Happened-To-My-Career?” Swanson), and the movie follows their high speed chase, where the cops try to bust Sheen before he can reach the Mexican border.
I immediately called every video store to ever have existed in the entire history of the planet, and even a few from the Nebular Dimension in Deep Space Whatever, but of course the movie is no longer available. So I kidnapped the shih tzu of one of the owners of Amazon.com and held my own little hostage until finally, three months later, my dvd was pulled from the annals of forgotten movies and landed (to the soundtrack of angels singing) on my doorstep.
I was so excited when it arrived, I didn’t even notice when Carlita-the-kidnapped-shih-tzu bolted out the front door and headed straight for the strip club at the end of the block. In fact, I have been so absorbed with this movie for the past few days that I actually walked by the club at least six times, without noticing that the dog has somehow become this week’s featured dancer.
Anyway, thus commenced my new obsession hobby: tracking down elusive cameos of my favorite musicians. It was only fitting that I would start my new game with Henry Rollins, seeing as we will one day be married atop of a mountain.
Oh god, he was so fucking good! Resplendent in his black and silver uniform, Henry’s character was the happy-but-thick police officer that drives the first cruiser to follow Sheen and Swanson on their speedy road trip. In the backseat of his black-and-white, there were a couple of supporting characters; a producer and a cameraman interviewing Rollins and his partner for a reality TV show called The Fuzz.
Henry was throwing out little gems like this:
“Obviously you want to keep vehicular intercourse down to minimum at all times. We don’t want this guy spinning out and hitting a bus load of nuns or anything.”
and
“For me, it's the respect and power that the position commands. I don't know whether to be busting bad guys or signing autographs. It's kinda like being a star.”
Haha! So adorable! In context, anyway.
This movie also has a couple of cameos by Flea and Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, who play two monster truck drivers that try to run Swanson’s stolen BMW off of the road. They were adorable as well.
"Yeah, man, Kristi Swanson does have nice tits.
But they're nowhere near as nice as Kage's."
So! While the movie itself was pretty cheesy, it was still enjoyable, and Henry Rollins was perfection personified. I would highly recommend tracking it down yourselves, then taking a night off from everyone to watch it, alone and without your pants.
If I ran away today Will you pull me back tomorrow? Took some time to arrange Your connections hard to swallow
I know you're somewhere, I'm Insane It's your needs on my brain Smack me out, Our eyes exchange To have the strength to stake my claim
Have you placed it? I can't taste it Will I waste it? Can't trace it Time to face it
Now gonna go away
~ Dinosaur Jr
Henry Rollins woke me up in bed last night, whispering in my ear.
No, not my computer, Henry Rollins. The REAL Henry Rollins nudged me awake last night, whispering sweet nothings in my ear of his undying love and lust for me.
“Dinosaur Jr onstage now. Completely ripping it up!!! Best show yet!!!” (It’s our secret lover’s code, shut up.)
“Yes, baby,” I murmured back, snuggling into him. “I know.”
I drifted back into my dream, where Henry was a medieval knight and I was a wanton, buxom serving wench, but my delicious punk star was too excited to let me sleep.
“Dinosaur Jr onstage now. Completely ripping it up!!! Best show yet!!!”
“Okay,” I moaned, and sat up to take off my top. “But I really should brush my teeth first. My mouth tastes like a Dinosaur Jr pooped in it.”
I lay back with a smile and waited for Henry’s skilled hands to trail over my body. A few seconds passed but Henry still wasn’t nibbling my belly button, so I opened my eyes and looked around my room in the gloom of early evening.
“Henry?” I asked into the darkness. “Baby?”
“Dinosaur Jr onstage now. Completely ripping it up!!! Best show yet!!!” he crowed from the floor beside my bed, where I had knocked him over in my haste to be felt up.
Oh, right, I thought sleepily, Henry isn’t in my bed; he’s in Philly with Dinosaur Jr.
I picked up my iPhone from the floor and smiled indulgently at Henry’s message flashing across my screen. I love it when he makes the effort to stay in touch while he’s on the road, I thought dreamily. What a poppet.
He disguises his personal messages to me as posts for his followers on Twatter, but whatever, I know they’re really just for me. He hasn’t used that thing since 2008, what else could it possibly mean?
I cuddled my phone to my face and lay back down in bed to wait for Henry’s next message, but it wasn’t long before I was dreaming again.
Henry was James T. Kirk, and I was a green alien woman with three boobs.
If that doesn't spell true love, then my name's not Henrietta Collins!
If I were in Dinosaur Jr, I'd only do the
interview if I could sit in Henry's lap.
Did I say Henry Rollins was gonna be “in my pants” tonight?
I meant “in your t.v.”. Henry Rollins is gonna be in your t.v. tonight, and you get to watch him!
Henry “MyPecsDanceOnlyForKage” Rollins is making a guest appearance tonight on NBC’s new sitcom, The Paul Reiser Show.
(Check your local listings)
(Haha! I can’t believe I just wrote that)
(No, seriously, why would I write that?)
I didn’t know that Paul Reiser even had a new show on NBC, if truth be told. Of course, if we are being totally honest, generally speaking I don’t really know my ass from my elbow, either. But a couple of days ago, I was sitting around on my elbows and cyber-stalking Henry Rollins’ pectoral muscles when I discovered something special - my gorgeous (imaginary) boyfriend Henry was to be on this week’s episode of The Paul Reiser Show! Hooray!
I hope he gets naked, I thought happily, as I looked up the show times.
Sadly, Henry doesn't get naked in this episode - which is really quite a soul-crushing blow for me, if you wanna know the truth - but even without the gratuitous nudity which I had hoped for, it is worth watching.
The episode airs tonight on the american channel NBC, though I'm one of the lucky few that have already seen it. Up here in the Canadias, it aired two days ago. We get everything earlier up here because of how important we are to the movie and television industry.It is common practice here for all American sitcoms to be held up to rigorous Canadian standards. If a program doesn't meet these standards of excellence, all of the show's cast, crew and producers are dumped naked in the Rocky Mountains, and left to fend for themselves.
After all, who knows more about how to make great television than we do? Can you say CBC? That's right, baby, the CBC, that same gem of a channel that brought you "Little Mosque on the Prairie" and "Manbridge One on One". Mmmmmm, oh yeah, you know you're jealous, America. Eat it.
Anyway, I got to see Henry Rollins' guest appearance on The Paul Reiser Show this past Tuesday night - and now it’s your turn!
I know this goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway - Henry was awesome. And not just because I wanna live in his pants.
Now, then. NOW THEN. Get up off your elbows, everyone, and go watch The Paul Reiser Show!
I'll hide behind a smile And understanding eyes And I'll tell you things that you already know So you can say "I really identify with you, so much!" And all the time that you're needing me Is just the time that I'm bleeding you Don't you get it yet? I'll come to you like an affliction And I'll leave you like an addiction You'll never forget me You wanna know why?
Cause I'm a liar ~ Henry Rollins
I woke up Saturday morning to find that my Facebook page had been deleted! Oh no!
Who could possibly have done that? I smirked to myself, and took the whole thirty seconds necessary to create a new page. (If you’re not sure who it was, just read my last post.)
So everybody, I now have a new Facebook page. I would like to ask all my Bloggy friends to go to it and send me a friend request, so that I can add you again, and get my new page started.
I’d also like to thank everyone for all their supportive comments after I posted my last blog. You guys are fucking awesome! It’s hard to narrow it down, but here are a few of my favorite comments from my last post, “Bitches Be Craaazy”:
“Wow. My brain hurts from trying to understand what the cum bucket was trying to say.”
“She sounds like a nice little retard.”
“He calls out your name when he fucks her. It's the only explanation.”
“My fucking IQ just dropped like 20 points after reading her blabber.”
“Is she borderline illiterate? No fucking hope for her children.”
Hahaha! Thanks, you guys. ;)
Now then, I think we’ve wasted enough time on Michele, don't you? Let’s move on to something sane.
Heather at Sugar Free Thoughts has been kind enough to send me an award for “Blogger With The Best Boobs”. Isn’t that sweet? Oh, hold on a sec, just got a text...hey, it’s from Sugar Free Heather, speak of the devil! What’s she got to say?
Oh.
Hmmm.
“The award isn’t for best boobs, dumb ass! Not everything you receive in life is because of your rack.”
It isn’t?!
Okay, well, let’s have another look at this award thingy, then.
I’ll show HER.
Oh, haha! It isn’t about my rack. What are the odds?
With a prestigious award such as this comes great responsibility blah blah blah. I am meant to tell you seven things about myself, then pass the award on to however many blog tarts I choose. So pretend you care for a sec, and read this random crap about me.
1. Uh......
2. Hmmm.......
3. I dated Matthew Good a few years ago. Unless you’re Canadian, you will have no idea who that is.
4. The more tattoos I get, the lesser the chance I will ever have a normal job.
5. By this time in my life, I was supposed to be a soloist with the Royal Ballet of London, with a career in journalism on the side, and married to Hugh Laurie. Instead, I am a stripper who writes a blog and has an unhealthy obsession with Henry Rollins. SO CLOSE.
6. Oooh, speaking of which, I finally saw an episode of Sons of Anarchy with Henry Rollins. As expected, he was bloody fantastic. Though really, I would think this had he just tap danced naked across the screen. More, probably.
7. Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again. Actually, I dreamed last night that I was forced to hunt a pig. I am a vegetarian, so I just kept firing wide and missing him. I have no idea what this means.
Ta da! Hey! GET BACK HERE.
Now, my five blog tarts that I am inviting into the Jello wrestling ring, to see who will hold the title of Versatile Blogger for the next fortnight.
"Uh, Stephen? That was supposed to be a picture of ME."
“You cannot make an iPad 2 by putting two iPad 1's in a panini press! No matter how much provolone you put in the middle. So, please, Apple. Make me the 'appiest' man in the world, and GIVE ME AN IPAD 2. Also, I could use a new panini press."
~ Stephen Colbert
I got an email from my girlfriend Dee this morning.
Dee pointed out that I haven’t been quoting song lyrics at the beginning of my blog posts for the past week or so. She demanded to know, “What’s up with that?”
Um...I haven’t been?
Oh. Haaaaaaaaaaa.
That right there should tell you everything you need to know about Kage and ADHD.
Hey! A squirrel! Haha! Come here, squirrel!
Wait, that's not a squirrel. It's just a piece of paper.
What I'm trying to say is that Henry Rollins is still in Australia, and I’m pining for him. I miss my imaginary lover. We are really close, like Charlie Sheen and Winning!, so separation is hard on both of us.
Though a bit harder on me, obviously, since he doesn’t know I exist.
Anyway, here’s an awesome video of Henry teaching Manny Chevrolet how to work out.
Ladies, try not to lick the screen. It doesn’t taste like Henry.
Henry: Hey Kage. Wanna feel my steel?
Kage: (faints)
I was looking for a lover Living underneath the sun Thought I was the other When I knew I was the one
Caught a handle on the rising sun Took a day to rise and fall At the end of the trail I was scarred and burned But I felt no pain at all
Walking through a world of lies With a heart made out of stone I looked deep into my eyes And I knew I was alone
~ Black Flag
Did you know that doing your homework can actually lead to new ideas of your own? No, I’m serious - it’s true! Well, it might be true. Recent events and new evidence suggest that it might be true. Regardless, I uncovered this potential phenomenon yesterday morning, when I accidentally did some homework for my writing class.
The assignment given last week was to do a full character description for at least one character out of our individual written prose. Every time I glanced at the stack of questions throughout the past seven days, I would scoff at it and think, I don’t need to do this crap. I KNOW my character, thank-you very much.
Because in a nut sack shell, she Sir, is me, Sir.
“Write about what you know” is the old tried and true adage, right? So at the beginning of this course I wondered to myself, Do I know anything about anything? And the answer, of course, was a resounding no. But in close second came the fact that I know what it’s like to work as a professional dancer. So basically, I’ve been writing about the misadventures of a completely insane young stripper, as she travels for work throughout Canada, Guam and Australia. A bit narcissistic, perhaps, but again, you gotta write about what you know.
The only other things I know how to do well are: a) how to make an omelette in under thirty seconds (you make someone else to do it), and b) how to stalk Henry Rollins. Though I haven’t really excelled in that arena either, seeing as I haven’t even been arrested for it yet.
YET.
Sigh. Sometimes my lack of ambition is truly disheartening.
Anyway, I decided to be a keener and do the assignment regardless of how superior I felt towards it, and, as it turns out, I don’t actually know a goddamn thing about my fictional character, either.
Which is hilarious, because I based the character on me, and my experiences as a dancer.
And that right there, friends and foes, will tell you everything you need to know about lil ol’ me. I really don't know SHIT about ANYTHING.
Doing the assignment turned out to be a godsend. I suddenly realized that I was trying to fit the experiences and stories of an entire lifetime into one girl, in one story; and I wanted her to encompass everything. I wanted to cram in all the stages I went through in life; the perfect ballerina and honor roll student, the rebellious little shit who pierced her belly button at thirteen, the over-ambitious dancer who wouldn’t stop until she became a feature and saw her name in lights, the crazy girl who was so high she couldn’t even find the address of her next stag. I had expected to adorn my character with all these crowns, to cram it all into one story, and for it all to make sense. And then I was going to make her President of the United States, just because I could.
Going through the character description assignment, though, I finally saw what I was doing, and I was able to stop doing it. Like, I learned something, you know? From, like, homework.
Hahahahahahahaha! Isn’t that fucking wild?!?!?! Who knew?
Anyway, on a quick final note, today is the last day for the KCRW fund raiser, the station that plays my imaginary boyfriend’s radio program every Saturday night. Here’s the link if you guys wanna listen to my baby’s show, which I know you do, cuz it fucking ROCKS:
This past Saturday’s show was a really great one. If you have a few minutes you should go and check it out.
And if you have a few dollars, you should go and give it to KCRW - but put it in my name. I’m trying to get the Platinum Membership Package, which comes with a coffee mug, an autographed t-shirt, and a night of being thrown around a rubberized room by an oiled and topless Henry Rollins himself.
Which they are not technically offering as one of their thank-you gifts, as such.
"Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! You got an award?
I am so fucking excited!
Look at me, I can barely contain myself!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
I smash my fists Into my face I can feel it When I close my eyes
And This Is Good
I smash my fists Into the wall I can feel it When I close my eyes
And This Is Good
I think I’m at the bottom When I’m crying at the top I think I’m at the bottom When I’m dying at the top
And This Is Good
I hate to want You make me want I hate to want You make me want you
I hate to want You make me want To hurt you
~ Black Flag
Due to some sort of grievous clerical error, I have received a blog award. Hahaha! Isn't that a scream?
It's from the hilarious Oilfield Trash, whom I refer to as Oilfield Daddy, over at Make Daddy A Sammich.
This is what it looks like.
At first, I presumed "LOL" to mean what I think we all presume it to mean...Luscious Outer Labia.
And I just thought, Don't tell me. TELL HENRY ROLLINS.
But upon further investigation, it would appear that "LOL", in fact, means something entirely different.
Well. All I can say is, thank Christ I checked. That could have been really embarrassing.
So. With great honor comes great responsibility, which I HATE, but alas, what ya gonna do. Upon snooping around other people's blogs, it would appear that I am meant to: a) tell you who gave me the award (did that), b) tell you seven things about myself that you prolly never wanted to know and will absolutely regret reading, and c) torture seven other bloggers with the onerous task of doing the very same thing. (Let's see...who's pissed me off lately? You'll get yours. AND HOW.)
Um...er...fuck.
Okay.
1. I speak fluent English and French, though whenever I am in Quebec, I tell all the Frenchies to slow the fuck down, their French is terrible.
2. I went to the Royal Winnipeg Ballet as a teacher when I was sixteen. I dropped out the following year, and became a stripper just three years later. Haha! All that training finally paid off, Mum and Dad. Bazing.
3. Me Mum is Australian, and my Dad is French-Canadian, even though he doesn't speak French anymore. I've always personally pretended to be a blond-haired, green-eyed Jew, because I have a disturbing and unnatural fascination with Nazi Germany and the Third Reich. I've always felt I needed an excuse for this, since I look so fucking Aryan, so I've lied and said I'm Jewish. No one has ever questioned me. Oy vey!
4. I have twelve piercings, six tattoos, and more to come.
5. I am my parents' pride and fucking joy. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
6. I snuck into an honors English class in high school by lying about my previous grade, and wasn't caught for a month. By then it was too late to send me to a remedial class. Teacher put me on probation and told me to 'keep up with the others, or else'. I finished with the highest mark in the class.
7. I believe that the punishment for people who abuse animals should be that everything they did to the animal, is done to them. Same thing for people. And I get to watch.
Done!
And here's my seven other suckers bloggers, in no particular order (except who's next in line to be dipped in hot wax), who I think rock:
How Henry will greet my family at our wedding reception.
Hopefully.
Loose nut in my head A bolt of lightning between my legs I can't think straight my mind's a mess I only see straight when I'm being led
Loose nut, I want head The loneliness I dread Loose nut, you can help Be with me so I don't hurt myself
Loose nut, no bolt fits My head is giving me fits Loose nut, looking for diversion Just anything that'll let me stick it in
~ Black Flag
I wandered into Dad’s office this afternoon, looking for some answers to life's most important, philosophical questions.
“Hey Dad? What the shit is a 'podcast'?” I asked him as I walked through the door.
“Don’t say shit, Kage,” he said, without looking up from his paperwork. “It’s rude.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said, turning on my heel and stomping out of his office.
I came back in a moment later. “Hey Dad? What the fuck is a 'podcast'?”
He sighed and threw his pen onto his desk, then swiveled around slowly in his chair to face me. “Very nice, Kage,” he said drily. “Really. That's fantastic. Now, then, Miss I-don’t-take-off-my-iPod-for-anyone. You really don’t know what a podcast is?”
“Nooooooooo, Stephen Hawking, I really don’t know what a podcast is,” I said haughtily, and pushed his papers aside so I could park my ass on his desk. “I never had a reason to give a fucking shit before.” I grinned broadly. "Hahahaha! Do you see what I just did there? I used both swears to-"
"Yeah, I got it," Dad rolled his eyes, then dropped his head wearily into his hands. “Look, kiddo. Why don’t we just skip the fun part where I explain it all to you, and you swear a lot but don’t actually listen, and you just tell me what the hell you want?”
“Dad, don’t say hell,” I gasped, my eyes wide. “It’s rude.”
“I’m not helping you,” he announced, and pushed on my shoulder to try and yank his papers out from under my arse. “Beat it. Get lost. Go ask your mother, you heathen child.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I grinned, pushing back with all my weight, effectively cementing his papers to the desk with my left butt cheek. “I’ll be good. Please help me, oh all-knowing father?”
I smiled winningly, a la overachieving Broadway star.
He glared up at me. “What do you want?”
“Well, now! My imaginary boyfriend has this radio show in California, see,” I began, smiling wistfully and shaking my head in wonder at the romance of it all, like Henry Rollins' entire radio show is dedicated to me or something.
Which it should be.
“What?” Dad asked with interest. “1979 Jello Biafra has a radio show?”
I stopped twirling my hair and looked at my father like he was a complete idiot. “No, Dad,” I said condescendingly. “How could my imaginary boyfriend from the past have a current radio show? That’s just stupid.”
“Oh, right, right,” Dad smirked. “How thoughtless of me.”
“Quite,” I agreed. “No, this is my imaginary boyfriend and personal trainer from the present, Henry Rollins,” I explained. “He does a radio show in LA or something, and I want to know if I can somehow get my hands on it. Ergo, I need to know what a podcast is.”
“Okay, well, just go onto iTunes, and search for it under podcasts,” Dad said.
“And...?” I prompted.
He looked at me quizzically. “And then download it.”
“That’s it?” I said, astounded.
“That’s it,” he said.
“For free?” I demanded.
“For free,” he agreed.
“You mean I could have been listening to Henry this whole time?" I cried. "Instead of talking to YOU?”
“You’re welcome, Kage,” he said sarcastically, and managed to yank most of his papers out from underneath me. “Now get out of my office. Oh, and next time you have a question? Please, go and harass your mother. I'm mad at her right now.”
"'We're gonna have a t.v. party tonight!'" I yelled loudly along to my iPod as a response, and danced out of the room.
I’m a-coming, Henry!!! I thought gleefully to myself, and thundered back up the stairs to throw myself in front of my computer again.
Let the search begin! Soon we shall be united, mein liebe!
.................................
...............*cricket*..............
..................................
Uh...I’ll have to let you guys know what I find, ifififWHEN I find it.
It’s gonna take a little longer than I thought.
Seeing as I don’t actually know what an “iTune” is, either.
One more rep, and I'll take off these pesky shorts.
Kage: (throwing weights across entire gym)
ALL DONE HENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't care - gonna fuck you anyways I don't care - your boyfriend's here anyways I don't care - you've got a tampon in anyways I don't care - well you're gross anyways
I don't care (Haha! You're ugly)
I don't care - well you're messed up anyways I don't care - you're a doggy anyways I don't care - you got a dull place anyways I don't care - well you look like you're pregnant anyways
I don't care
I don't care - well you're gross anyways I don't care - your boyfriend's here anyways I don't care - and your parents are here too
I don't care
~ Black Flag lyrics (also, Henry's vows to me at our wedding)
Sigh. I’ve got a butt load of meetings at the hop-sital this week.
Haha! Don’t I sound self important?
I’m not. Just a run-of-the-mill pain in the arse.
But it’s amazing how often they’re the same thing, n’est pas?
Today I thought I was seeing Asian Persuasion Tiana for “Nutritional Counseling”, or “Stop Being Such A Fucktard, Kage”, as I like to call it; but when I got there, I was in for a big surprise.
No teeny, tiny asian girls for me today! Nope, turns out Asian Persuasion Tiana ran screaminghas moved on from the Eating Disorders program at Children’s Hop-sital.
Gulp.
Which left only...
“Hello, Kage,” Aryan Nation Tiana said coolly, walking into the office and approaching my chair. SHITFUCK SHIT! I screamed inwardly, and recoiled in fear. I suspected instantly from her demeanor that she had gotten ahold of my blog address and read it ( DAMN you, Wikileak), and I started to sink back as far as I could into the depths of my chair.
“I don’t wanna die,” I whimpered softly to myself, as I watched her approach on the warpath towards me. “Well, I mean, I do,” I corrected myself hastily. “But not HERE, and not with HER." I kept babbling stupidly into the collar of my jacket as she drew ever nearer. "More like... more like from erotic asphyxiation," I decided fervently. "At the hands of Henry Rollins and Trent Reznor, you know? Something GOOD.”
SHUT UP, KAGE.
She reached my chair and stood before me expectantly. Oh God, I thought suddenly, slightly hysterical. Did I justsay erotic asphyxiation OUT LOUD?
“Kage,” she said again.
“ ‘llo,” I mumbled reluctantly, staring out at her from the furry recesses of my winter jacket.
“Come on,” she said politely. “Let’s go to my office.”
I took a deep breath, then stood up silently and followed her. The brave soldier, facing her demise, and all that. I could be courageous in my final moments, I decided heroically.
We went into her office and sat down, and to my surprise (and boredom), she started asking all the normal questions counselors always ask nutters. Nothing about anything outside of the program.
Well! All I can say is, if she did read my blog, she was very professional and made absolutely no mention of what a complete asshole I can be, and in fact WAS, towards her.
PHEW! I thought, and relaxed into my chair. I was so relieved! No confrontations for Kage today! Hooray!
So we talked some crap about how I was doing, and then it was time to talk about what I was eating. I whipped out the diet that Michaela had given me, and handed it over.
*Just to fill you in*: Another dancer named Michaela was competing in fitness this summer, and paid a nutritionist to tell her what to eat, to get ready to compete. She then emailed the diet to me so I could follow it too, which is what I handed over to Tiana.
“Whoa,” Aryan Nation Tiana said, once she had looked over my sheets of paper. “I’m not sure about this diet, Kage.”
I raised my eyebrows. Wrong answer, sweetheart, I thought.
“Who was this diet designed for?” she demanded, and I told her.
“And are you following it to the letter?” she asked, and pointed to the sheet. “Because it says here this girl weighs about ten pounds more than you. I’m betting that you’re not eating all of this.”
I narrowed my eyes, but said nothing.
She rubbed her chin, and sighed. “I don’t know, Kage. I don’t know if this diet is good for you.”
You’re pushing me, Eva Braun, I thought mutinously.
“I mean, where’s your calcium? There’s no dairy in this diet at all. And how much do you weigh? This seems like an excessive amount of protein for your weight, which can be hard on your kidneys,” she said.
“Actually, I don’t weigh myself anymore,” I said pointedly. “I just think it’s healthier that I don’t. And my trainer agrees,” I said, and smirked to myself. Let's play with the nutritionist, I decided. This was fucking boring. “He’s also checked the amount of protein in my diet, and I’m eating between 1 and 1.5 grams per pound of body weight per day.”
“Trainer?” she echoed, looking up from my diet sheet. “You have a trainer? Who is he?”
“Oh, he’s this guy from my gym,” I said innocently, waving my hand in the air distractedly. “His name is Henry Rollins.”
“What?” she said.
“What?” echoed I, looking up at her and widening my eyes, appearing slightly surprised.
“Henry Rollins?” she repeated, and I nodded. “As in, Henry Rollins? THE Henry Rollins? The singer?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, and shrugged my shoulders without interest. “But he says he's not a singer anymore. ”
She stared at me.
I smiled up at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought, then reached up to play flirtatiously with my ponytail.
“He sure is gorgeous, though,” I admitted with a giggle, starting a gushing, girl-to-girl confessional. “He’s a good trainer, but secretly, I think he’s just trying to get me in bed.” I laughed gaily and stretched my arms above my head. “I just wish he’d hurry up already! I HATE lifting weights! I just wanna lift HIM. Over ME.”
Aryan Nation Tiana’s mouth dropped open in shock.
I laughed again, then brushed some loose strands of hair out of my eyes and looked out of the window. “Oh, Henry,” I sighed dramatically and shook my head fondly, like we were the best of friends, and I was remembering all our old times together.
Then I suddenly snapped my attention back to her. “So anyway, how bout I’ll add some Tums to that diet for calcium, and we’ll call it a day. Sound good? Awesome,” I said sweetly, then I stood up and walked out of her office.
And that’s how I got my new diet approved at the hop-sital today! Bongo.
Pis.s. Here's the video I promised you, Hed ;) sorry it's such truly shit quality.
