Music Monday: Little bit of this, little bit of that

I'm tired, it's pouring down with rain, 8.30pm, and I still need to go running. With that said, I am a bit too short on time to lookup and post YouTube videos for this week's music. I've decided to add a playlist, and since no bastard aside from like, one of you, expressed a preference between YouTube vids versus a playlist, a playlist you shall get.

The playlist is a little bit of everything this week:

Horse Feathers - a band from Portland, kind of in the vein of Iron & Wine and Will Oldham. That is to say, a kind of folk/indie/Americana vibe. I know, surprise surprise. I have a particular fondness for the band's name as my Mom, in all seriousness, says "Oh, horsefeathers". For realz.
More info: MySpace
Website

Blitzen Trapper - Coincidentally, they are touring with Horse Feathers and also from Portland. When I first read about this band, I anticipated that it would be a band plagued and defeated by its own self-concious desire to be hip, a la Vampire Weekend or any of the innumerable shitty guitar bands to come from Britain lately. However, I can't even describe their sound. All I know is that when I listen to Wild Mountain Nation I swear I'm listening to a song from the Freaks and Geeks soundtrack. As for diversity, listen to Shady Grove as well - it's nothing like the other two Blitzen Trapper songs.
More info: MySpace
Website

The War on Drugs - East Coast!! Philly (reppin'!) to be precise. Sonic Youth mixed with Bruce Springsteen if the Amazon blurb is to be believed. I hear a bit of Dylan too. Whatever it is, I'm digging it. I turn up XPN as loud as I professionally can when "Arms Like Boulders" comes on at work.
More info: MySpace
Website

Florence and the Machine - When I first saw the video for "Kiss with a Fist", I was all, "Whatever Fake Kate Nash, that kooky, mockney shit is played out". HOWEVER, this song has grown on me like some sort of creeping crud and I love it. There, I said it.
More info: MySpace

Charlotte Sometimes - I came across her when surfing my internet radio, which is a lot cooler than it sounds. Kind of mindlessly poppy, but without the guilt. That, and she's hella cute. I hope she's not 16 or something, though I'm guessing from some of the lyrics that she's a bit older. Ok, I've just checked and she's 20 or 24 depending on where you look, which makes my girl crush a bit more acceptable.
More info: Website
MySpace

Goldenhorse - from New Zealand, home of kiwis, and most importantly, Flight of the Conchords. I don't really know much about them, but they're good for a listen.
More info: Website
MySpace

If all you see is a big gray box like I do, just click "Pop Out Player" or whatever it says. That should work. It had better work.

In the interest of full disclosure

I think I may be high on endorphins and a great love of "Survivor" by Destiny's Child (sorry Helen), but fuck it - here is that picture of my former fat ass self that I said I couldn't bring myself to put on here. I've just had a good run, my trousers are starting to sit very loosely on my hips, and my thighs are slowly starting to be less likely to create a smell of bacon when I walk.



I cringed having to look at this image whilst defacing my aunt's clownified photo. The rolls, the boobs, the moonpie face, oy vey, what a mess. I'm just able to post it because I know that I'm making progress. This is not me, this was me.

I will probably take this down soon anyway - not because I'm ashamed, because for the first time since I was 19, I'm not. It's largely due to the fact that I call my "boss" nasty names and I have this irrational fear that she'll find me and sit on me with her fat ass. But anyway, no, I'm not terrified that other people will see this photo, so this is me coming out. It's a big step for someone who refuses to look at her work ID through fear of being swallowed by the giant shiny moonpie face within.

People always say that trite, throwaway statement, "If I can do it, anyone can!!" I hate this phrase with a passion, but I'm struggling to come up with another way of stating exactly that. Motivation varies from person to person of course, but for me (as I've mentioned before), I realised that 10 years becomes 20, 20 becomes 30, and before you know it, you're a lumpy, wobbly lady in your twilight years wondering what you could have been. I'm 30, not 60. I want to be able to do this while I still can. Besides, it gives me kick ass preparation for cruiseship shuffleboard.

I just hope that in 35 years "Survivor" picks me up in the same way it does now, because seriously, I could run for miles with a broken leg and a spear through my left eye as long as that song was playing. Destiny's Child, wooo!

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In unrelated to fatness news, my girl Cali had some great news today. Lord knows she has suffered enough, so go and tell her how happy you are for her!

Music Monday: Yeah Yeah Yeahs

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are old news, I know, but I keep telling myself it's about time I pick them for this blessed weekly event.

My brother C, a music business major, is my go-to person for all things musical. The Dude is caught up in a cyclone of girl bands (Sugababes) and late 80s adult contemporary(Phil Collins), so discussing contemporary music with him is like assuming P will listen when I tell her to stop scooping poop out of her nappy. That is to say, an exercise in futility.

C cannot stand the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and refers to poor old Karen O as a "cunt". He can not supply any information as to why she deserves this designation, as she does not display any level of cuntishness from what I know of her. She does have a dreadful mushroom haircut, but that hardly makes her worthy of being called the seaward.

Mushroom hair not withstanding, I happen to think the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are pretty damn good. They have a great mix of music you can dance furiously to (in the privacy of your own home), or just sit back and enjoy with a cup of coffee.

For your consideration:

Pin


Cheated Hearts (not an actual band video, thanks to all the damn "disabled by request" lack of embedding.


Gold Lion (live on Letterman)


Turn Into


Maps


Date with the Night


I'm all giddy now.

Seriously?

My kid is still young, right? Surely I do not actually have a kid capable of saying the following:

Setting - In the kitchen making dinner with The Dude.

P wanders in, then quickly heads out, closing the door as she leaves

"See you next week! I go see Granny. Bye kids!"

door closes

I am now curious if I should ask her if she would care to discuss themes and dominant elements of my current read, Jhumpa Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies.

Just overheard: "I put nappy on. Princess nappy. Sound good? Yes, sound good."

In case you were wondering, this is not a conversation between P and a parent. This is an exchange P has with herself, alone, in her room, sitting on the floor talking to a nappy.

P doesn't deal so much with questions as she does demands. For instance, "Mum get up", "Mum sit down", "Mum be quiet", "Pooed in nappy. CHANGE IT!" and today's personal favourite - "Dad hit Mum pwees". I have no idea where that last one came from, and of course domestic violence is no laughing matter, but it was quite difficult not to smile. Maybe she has visions of me being abused whilst she sits to the side giggling and revelling in the delicious violence she has just induced.

She is fiscally conservative, choosing to take any small amount of money I may have in my wallet and gifting it to her father or asking me to put it in her piggy bank. P will then shake the empty wallet and say, "No hear money", throwing it down on the floor in disgust. I have asked her if perhaps I am able to have my own money back, being as I work full-time and certainly deserve to have an entire £2 in my wallet, to which she always replies, without fail, "No, Dad's money. NO MUM!" It's such a great feeling to be told off by your 2 year old and deprived of your own cash like a child undeserving of her allowance. When there is no money in the wallet to start off with (a frequent occurance), I am told time and time again, "No money in der! Mum, no money in der!", with the wallet waved in my face for extra emphasis on my disappointing poverty.

I often listen to her and think of Pearl. I then kind of want to re-create that sketch in my front room, because there is something indescribably hilarious in inferring that toddlers are demanding, foul-mouthed drunks. I also worry that there wouldn't have to be much of a script, as P seems Pearl-like without even trying.

One can't help loving the Tiny Dictator, or her other self, Carney Folk:



As you have likely recoiled from your computer and pondered taking a hammer to the monitor lest the beast manage to creep out of the screen to chew your face off, this was just a bad photo. Evidence of carney heritage is only mildly evident in a good photo in the form of the ever-present mullet, because as we all know, God loves a mullet.

Le vagin

I was very tired and pissed off whilst at work yesterday, as Twitterites were sadly aware due to my excessive rambling about how very full of rage and hatred I was. As a quick aside, I used to be a reluctant Twitterer, now I'm all over it like I was with Facebook those two weeks eight months ago. I didn't much see the point in Twitter at first, as brevity is no strong suit of mine and those bastards limit you to 140 characters. What sort of effect can be made given such narrow parameters to work with? I've come round now though. Twitter allowed me to type "motherfucker" repeatedly during my homicidal period yesterday, and I would not have had the opportunity to vent in this manner any other way. Twitter also graciously allowed me to twit about the hilarity last week when my sanitary product failed and blood seeped into the front of my trousers. At work. Without me noticing. For over an hour. This is what happens when you don't have a period for 4 months, you forget where the tampon actually goes. I'm kidding. Stop blanching.

Where was I? Oh yes, labia. Oh wait, I hadn't brought that up yet. Anyway, this is why I was tired and therefore a miserable cow yesterday - because of labia. Isn't this always the way? I started to watch this programme and just couldn't stop watching, despite the intensely graphic nature of some of the footage. I can handle seeing random ladies' vaginas, but I perhaps should have looked away during the close up of the motherfucking LABIOPLASTY. Those with sensitive dispositions should read no further. I'm serious. What I'm going to say will make you grab your crotch and wretch. I warned you. Ok - if one has large lips they want made smaller, they just slice those bastards off. Slice. As in, taking the scalpel, starting at the top, and quickly sever the extra skin. One quick flick of the wrist, and you are large labia-free. The doctor in this programme went so far as to wave the separated chunk of skin in the air in the direction of the patient, laughing and saying, "Look! It just shrivels away once you cut it off!" The surgeon was male, you won't be surprised to learn.

The gist of the programme was that vaginal alteration isn't the fun and games you thought it would be. No, you can't have your labioplasty during your lunch break and then engage in a fast-paced game of squash immediately after the procedure. The presenter wanted women to learn to love their labia, which, in some cases, meant going to a retreat, listening to nature sounds and showing your vagina to other women so they could talk you off the surgical ledge. The women sat in a small circle, coaxing each other to lift up skirts and bear the beast, and stories of loving and hating vaginas were exchanged. Oddly enough, though these women were being as personal as one could possibly be, words like "flower" and "nunie" (noo-nee) were used. Here you are, splaying your legs and putting it all out there, yet it's still a place for euphemistic exchange. Bizarre.

I support any woman's desire to improve her self-esteem, even if it means surgery. However, I feel like an outsider on this issue because I have never, even after childbirth, worried about the size of my labia. I accept that the vagina is a many varied creature, some are this way, some are that way. I've never heard of men gossiping about the vagina's appearance. They know that women have a vagina, but men aren't often renowned for their powers of observation. It seems like such an odd concept to me to be so fixated on your vagina's appearance that you are willing to undergo such a painful procedure.

Does anyone care to enlighten me? Is this something you have thought of, or are you labia ambivalent? The amount of vaginal plastic surgery has risen exponentially in the past years, so obviously there are a lot of women out there who are bothered by it. I'm genuinely interested in hearing your views - anonymously if you don't want to chat labia under your real name.

I would also like to mention that I was on babelfish translating "the vagina" for the title of this post, and I went with French because it is, as always, so lovely sounding. German, on the other hand, was quite the opposite - "die vagina". Once again, linguistically sticking to character. So - thoughts on die vagina please!