I’m coming up for air again, having polished off the editing for the next Unrestrained! We’re up to issue #23. When did I come on board…was it #6? That’s a lot of metal passing under my nose in a few short years.
The final push consisted of copyediting a 50-page Word file of album reviews. I presume some of them will go in the mag and some will go on the Web site. Every issue I’m simply blown away by the verbiage that our writers crank out. Do they have jobs, do they eat? I get depressed by other people’s productivity. I always go into a new issue intending to submit a paltry half dozen reviews, but I get beaten down by the editing each time. This time I finished two. Two reviews amongst maybe 140 others. That’s pretty lame.
I’ve come across some pretty screwed-up stuff over the past few days.
A) An old drunk at the Jolly Alderman on Thursday night had some interesting ideas to tell our group about using electromagnetism to send convicts to the moon. Apparently the trip would only take seven seconds. At first he seemed like a good guy to humour along, then it became clear that he was a total bore. He made his initial point, then returned to his perch. When he came back for round two, fancy shooed him away.
B) People talking about George Bush like he’s Mother Teresa. My dad’s friend Vaughn from Saltspring left a voicemail the other night in a vacant, entranced timbre, probably quoting soundbites off the news: “I honestly can’t imagine who I’d rather spend Thanksgiving with. That man put his life at risk to come and visit us. He’s my hero. Give him an A-plus.” Heh-heh.
C) Janeane Garofalo. Sweet Jesus, what’s gone wrong there?
D) Butt implants. Saw an item about them on some VH-1 show that MuchMoreMusic imports. Nice idea. The show followed some Hispanic woman who felt let down because her ass didn't match up to J-Lo's. As if that wasn't enough pressure, her husband preferred a bigger butt as well. Great, all the more reason to go under general anesthetic and have two donut-sized gel bags jammed into each buttock. Afterwards, she didn't look any different, but, she said, her sex life had improved. Bully for her and the implanted-butt-lovin' dickhead she rolls around with. I hope those implants don't migrate and slip down her leg. She could end up with a second pair of knees.