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Friday , September 3, 2010
"SONIKKK HATE," by Laura Jane Faulds & Chelsea Fairless Six Years Ago
When I was nineteen years old, I lived in an apartment by the White Castle on Metropolitan Avenue in Brooklyn with Chelsea, who grew up to write the killer blog Cat Party, and our beloved friend Neil Aspinall. The three of us spent the bulk of our time getting stoned, watching Mo Rocca's short-lived reality TV show Things I Hate About You on DVR, eating White Castle emotionally, hating our lives, listening to "Vertigo" by U2, playing with these Bratz dolls we bought, hating Ronald Reagan, and obsessively hating Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon with the fire of a thousand suns.
In today's nogoodforme Snapshot, I mentioned that Kim Gordon and I once bitch stared each other down in the Prince Street J.Crew, which was instigated by how, at the time, my entire existence was defined by my ideological issues with Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore. Asked nogoodforme reader Amy, What ideological issues did you have with Gordon/Moore? I then proceeded to dig up my notebook from Fall 2004, where I came across a thirteen-page-document entitled "SONIKKK HATE: Evidence," which more than explains my Gordon/Moore-related ideological issues of yesteryear. I am now going to type out the entire piece, because it's fucking brilliant.
NOTE: THIS WORK DOES NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT MY PRESENT OPINIONS ON THURSTON MOORE AND KIM GORDON; IT IS THE WORK OF TWO DELIRIOUS AND HATEFUL TEENAGERS FROM THE PAST. I AM REPRODUCING IT BECAUSE IT IS HILARIOUS. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE COMMENTS ARGUING ABOUT HOW THIS LIST IS STUPID AND OFFENSIVE BECAUSE I KNOW IT. THAT IS EXACTLY WHY IT IS BRILLIANT. I LIKE THURSTON AND KIM SO DON'T WORRY ABOUT EXPLAINING WHY I SHOULD PLEASE.
-In a 1993 interview, Kim Gordon specifies "judgmental people" and "hypocrits [sic]" as 2 of her dislikes. Though her commitment to the infantile Sonic Youth aesthetic may prevent her from acknowledging as such, may we remind Ms. Gordon that H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E is spelled with an E and apparently also with a K-K-KIM
-Kim Gordon is a "self-proclaimed pseudo sex symbol" God how cocky can you be
-Kim Gordon is aging in the same way as Iggy Pop (key words: sinewy, leathery etc)
-OK Sorry the Strokes aren't cool enough for you (although they didn't use to be so lame in fact you losers thought they were cool (or should I say kool) enough to call a song "Sonic Youth Says Hello To The Strokes" but OHHHH They're so corporate now...) At least the Strokes aren't PRETENDING like you KKKim
-Sonic Youth should be FORCED to listen (REALLY listen) to Velvet Revolver's Contraband
-Thurston Moore will never be as 1) Talented 2) Cool or probably even 3) Smart as <3Slash<3
-Sonic Youth: we fucking challenge you to write a song as good as "Welcome to the Jungle" or even "Machinehead." Or Fucking PIANO MAN. If you're gonna dish it out you better be able to take it. Actually fuck- write a song as good as "Hard to Explain" by the Strokes for that matter.
-Why can't you be as chill as Missy Elliott MJB (Mary J Blige <3) and Ciara???
-Sonic Youth promote a subverted version of authority ("First Couple of Indie Rock") that OPPRESSES THE OPPRESSED
-Oprah & Gayle are WAY cooler!!!!
-They hate fun.
+ Continue reading ""SONIKKK HATE," by Laura Jane Faulds & Chelsea Fairless Six Years Ago"
Monday , August 17, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: What's a Girl Gotta do in this Town to Get Bobbie Round the World?!?
As Emily Richmond has recently learned the hard way:
In this life, a grand don't come for free.
I have recently learned this too, but not for any real reason. Mostly, I'm just kind of confused as to why strangers don't throw their money at me constantly, you know, for being awesome. Life's so weird! But I digress, babyishly. See, the thing about Emily's current predicament vis a vis mine is that, like, Emily's matters.
There are a lot of awesome things about being Laura Jane Faulds, but by far the awesome-est is that I am in possession of the most unfuckwithably stellar Inner Circle this planet, I mean galaxy, I mean Universe, has ever known. It would be both mean-spirited and impossible for me to rank my Inner Circle members from best-to-least best; they are all perfectly awesomely special in their own perfect, awesome, special ways. BUT- Emily Richmond's role in Laura Jane Inner Circle is highly-prized and highly-necessary for two reasons:
1) Like me, Emily Richmond is "A John" (As in, not a Paul, George or Ringo) Johns are the coolest! We Johns need to stick together!
2) Emily & I are BROS. For life. Being "bros" is so very different from being "friends," "pals," or "buds." It's better. Bros stick together.
Though Emily Richmond is a John indeed, something she has in common with Ringo Starr is that she "gets by with a little help from [her] friends" (and don't we all?) In this case, the friend/bro in question is ME! And so, it is definitely time, for ME- Laura Jane Faulds of nogoodforme.com- to take a break from walking down the street listening to headphones and truly, officially and authentically HELP A BROTHER OUT. Worry not, Emily Richmond! HELP IS ON THE WAY! And it is named Laura.
Emily, who is going to CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE PLANET SOLO, IN A BOAT has a paltry TWO WEEKS left to reach her Kickstarter goal of $8000. As of this exact second, $2371 of Emily's goal has been pledged, which means that she is presently $5629 in the hole. Let's rectify that! Alternate methodologies for obtaining financial compensation are in serious order...
1. GIVE HOT BABES FREE MONEY: $1-$5629
Isn't that enough for you? I mean, really- whose dreams aren't we the girls of?!?!?
It's like prostitution, only without the shame!
2. SEND YOUR CARDBOARD SPIRIT ANIMAL ROUND THE WORLD: $25/$50/$75
Meet Fuckscrap. Fuckscrap is my best friend in the world. He's into noisecore, travelling, supporting me in all my endeavors, and fantasizing about self-mutilation. Fuckscrap and I have been best friends for five years. The sexual tension between us is occasionally unbearable, but we've learned to live with it. Last January, Fuckscrap came to Los Angeles with me. He LOVED living in Emily Richmond's houseboat. He was on Cloud Nine. Fuckscrap's dream is to live in a boat with Emily Richmond and see the world, which is why he is accompanying Emily on her journey.
Do you have a Fuckscrap, or a Fuckscrap equivalent? A stuffed puppydog with a glass eye that has been MIA since 1982? A Precious Moments figurine of a dead baby angel sitting on a rainbow, brimmin' just brimmin' with the Lord's love? A picture of Laura Jane Faulds that you printed off the Internet and talk to as if it were Real Me? (I hope not) Either way, for a meager $25, you can send your Fake Best Pal around the world with Emily and FUCKSCRAP! They'll love it. If you throw in an extra $25, Emily will send you weekly updates of how your Animal Friend is doing. For another $25 on top of that, I'll make sure Fuckscrap puts the moves on 'em.
3. THROW A BIG GULP AT LAURA JANE'S HEAD, TRINIDAD-STYLE: $71/$711
Tags: 7-11, boats, Bobbie Rounds the World, DarWINning, Emily Richmond, Fuckscrap, HELP EMILY RICHMOND SAIL AROUND THE WORLD, Helping a brother out, Inner Circle, John & Yoko, John Lennon, Laura Jane Faulds, Laura Jane's Magical Mystery Dude Sweepstakes, LSD, Precious Moments, Thai food
Sunday , July 26, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE IV)
PHASE IV: THE PROOF IS IN THE DISGUSTING, SYNTHETIC FROSTING
It made me think a lot about a lot, and I did. What? I learned my last lessons.
One of them really got me down. I kicked a can, and spat at the ground. The spit missed the street and hit my foot, which added insult to injury.
I walked, I mean, stormed, around, until I found a secluded little lot, next to the overpass where the chalk children walk to school; you know where I mean. The mulch floor of it was covered in fallen tree trunks. They were perfect benches. I sat down on one, smoked a quarter of a joint, watched a sparrow hop around. I watched the way his toes curled up to make him jump. He can only jump, or fly. I listened to "Octopus' Garden" twice. The sun came out, and I smiled. I walked over here, and now I've wrote it down. Everything happens so fast!. Life's too short, or long.
Or maybe, it is the exact right perfect amount of time- it is!
+ Continue reading "Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE IV)"
Tags: Ally, Bonersville USA, can-kicking, eating disorder awareness, eating disorder recovery, foot-spitting, happenstance, It's a conscious nod to Yoko Ono, living life, meeting my match, sangria, silent movies, squirrels, The Beatles, Toronto
Saturday , July 25, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE III)
PHASE III: THE CINNASTORM AFTER THE CINNACALM (Tuesday, July 21st, 2009- 3:00 PM)
It is three hours after the video ends. I feel like Cinnafuck Cinnashit Cinnahell Cinnadeath. I want to Cinnakill myself. Promptly after (Cinna-) finishing my "meal," I left my house, and listened to the Beatles on my iPod shuffle.
The first Beatles song I heard in "post-fucking up a Cinnabon existence" was "Michelle." I have never hated a song so much in my fucking life. I hate the Beatles, especially Paul McCartney. What a smug, annoying piece of shit that asshole is. It must be really fucking nice to be rich and famous and in love with a French girl and not barfing up Cinnabon in your mouth. Fuck Paul McCartney. Right now, the more I love something, the more I hate it. I hate the things I love because it doesn't matter how much I love them, they still aren't helping me feel not like Cinnapuking all over myself. I don't relate to anyone. Nobody understands. Do you understand? I thought not.
After "Michelle," my iPod played me "Magical Mystery Tour," which made a mockery of me. The only Beatles song I like doesn't exist. It is named "Laura's Black Magical Mystery Tour Through A Gastro-Intestinal Holocaust" (Cinnaholocaust). I did NOT know it was possible for a person's stomach to feel like this- so many terrible feelings! Over and over again, on a fifteen-second loop, for three hours straight. So far. Probably longer. Cinnaforever?
As I sluggishly plodded down the ugly grey streets of ugly grey Toronto this stupid afternoon, I alternated between:
-Cinnapuking in my mouth
-Experiencing sketchy, stabbing Cinnapains in my abdomen
-Breaking out in a cold Cinnasweat. Ashen-faced.
-Tasting an acrid sour milk taste in my mouth
-Breaking out in a hot Cinnasweat, having my face turn red, sweating weirdly profusely
-Feeling like I was about to give birth to a fifty-pound Cinnabon.
Then it would start all over again. Right now, I'm existing in the "weirdly sweaty" one.
I thought it might make me feel better to go buy myself I'm Going Away by the Fiery Furnaces; it took me going to three record stores to figure out that it doesn't come out until stupid fucking next Tuesday in stupid fucking Canada. Fuck Canada. Fuck Thrill Jockey Records, the Fiery Furnaces, record stores, CDs, life, days, Cinnabons, myself, Paul McCartney, nogoodforme.com, everyone I've ever loved, fuck, shit, death, fuck, I WANT TO DIE.
I went to 7-11 and bought a Big Gulp, mostly for the ice. The highlight of "post-fucking up a Cinnabon existence" so far was when I walked out of 7-11 and saw a douchey looking frat boy cop and imagined myself throwing my Big Gulp at his motherfucking face. I cracked a smile.
Yes, it's true. Today is the day I fucked up a Cinnabon. But, more importantly: today's the day a Cinnabon fucked up me.
PS: I take back everything I said about the Beatles. I love every single thing about them*. Paul McCartney is a great man.
*Except for John Lennon's mispronunciation of "Seine" in "The Ballad of John and Yoko."**
**And furthermore, I will NEVER forgive those four dumbasses for not combining "Mean Mr. Mustard" and the first sixteen seconds of "You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)" into a seventeen-minute A-side.
Friday , July 24, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE II)
PHASE II: LAURA JANE FUCKS UP A CINNABON (Tuesday, July 21st, 2009- 12:15 PM)
It's nice to watch a video of myself, and not "Laura Jane"-
PS: I feel as though it is my duty to mention that this video may be "triggering." I also feel as though it is my duty to mention that, if you might be "triggered" by this video, you should definitely watch this video. I believe that discomfort leads to growth and progress, which I think this footage makes pretty apparent. That being said: this video contains fairly detailed descriptions of what I ate when I was sick. Please don't steal my anorexia tips and apply them to your own life! They suck! I hate them! You would too!
Tags: Cinnabon Insomnia, Cinnabons, Does Life Need Frosting?, eating disorder awareness, eating disorder recovery, extreme romantic desperation, nogoodforme.tv, Paul McCartney's face, what my bedroom looks like
Thursday , July 23, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE I)
"Does Life Need Frosting?" by Laura Jane will be serialized into four installments, to be posted every day for the next four days, counting today. In my opinion, nogoodforme.com could stand to be a little more like Charles Dickens, I mean, "Dickensian."
PHASE I: PREPARING MYSELF EMOTIONALLY BY UNDERSTANDING MYSELF INTELLECTUALLY (Monday, July 20th, 2009)
Tomorrow morning, I am going to eat, I mean, fuck up, a Cinnabon.
In my life, the iconography of "The Cinnabon" is rich. Rich as a Cinnabon. They loom large in my legend. Cinnabons are for airports, and for days I already spent, in the year 2001, with Ally. The days when we invented "scrappiness."
In 2001, Ally inspired me to write the first good sentence I ever wrote: "Her name's Ally like an alley cat." In 2009, she is Allison to the world, but she'll always be Ally to me. Ally is my best friend. She is so close to being sunshine; I can't even picture her face without smiling stupidly. In 2001, we wrote lists of our favourite things about each other; I remember one of hers for me was "I can feel John Lennon's presence in everything you do." It troubles me that I was once deranged enough to bother cultivating a persona intended to convince my schoolmates that I was cosmically possessed by John Lennon's "spirit," but- either way- it's still the best compliment anybody ever paid me.
At my high school, if you cut class, you would get a phone call home at around 8 or 9 PM. It was an automated message letting your parents know that you were a big stoner fuck-up, but it was hilariously easy to get around- all you had to do was talk on the phone to your friends all night! In 2001, Ally and I cut class almost every day. We'd get stoned, take the bus to the mall, get stoned again, share a Cinnabon, get stoned a third time, and then sit outside Wal-Mart in a shopping cart, smoking cigarettes and making up stories about the lives of the people we hoped we would grow up to be.
It was in a shopping cart, on one of those pointless afternoons spent being bad for being bad's sake, that we realized there was a word to describe who we were then, today- and well obviously it was scrappy. Scrappy people. I may be growing up, but I'll be scrappy as shit 'til the day I fucking die. Ally and I are Scrap Sisters for life; Cinnabons are the official food of scrappiness, and I fucking WANT ONE.
+ Continue reading "Laura Jane Investigates: Does Life Need Frosting? (PHASE I)"
Tags: Charles Dickens, Cinnabon Insomnia, Cinnabons, Does Life Need Frosting?, eating disorder awareness, eating disorder recovery, Fuck Women's Health magazine, getting high, high school nostalgia, John Lennon, scrappiness, veganism
Saturday , May 16, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: What Happens when you Call that Phone Number Spencer Pratt Keeps Posting on Twitter?
Recently, Elizabeth Barker of nogoodforme.com asked the Universe, "What happens when you call that phone number Spencer Pratt keeps posting on Twitter?" (in reference to Satanism). Admittedly, I had been asking myself the exact same question! I am an avid follower of Spencer Pratt's Twitter as well as Spencer Pratt's "life"; basically, I am obsessed with Spencer Pratt, and pride myself on being 100% up on everything Spencer Pratt does, as he does it. So curious was I to find out what happens when you call that phone number Spencer Pratt keeps posting to Twitter, had I been a cat, my curiosity near certainly would have killed me. Luckily for cat-me, satisfaction inevitably would have brought me back: Phew!
Anyway, last night I drank a glass of wine and drunk dialed that phone number Spencer Pratt keeps posting on Twitter.
HERE IS WHAT HAPPENS:
PS: If you love me enough to sit through four minutes and fifty-one seconds of me sitting in my bedroom and rattling on about nothing/Spencer Pratt, I love you too.
Sunday , May 3, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Do Boys Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses?
To answer the question posed above: I wouldn't know. Dudes never make passes at me, because I'm obnoxious, and have Swine Flu. I also suspect that, like my idol and mentor Old Yeller, I may have the hydrophobie, but at press time this is all just speculation (or, "spec"-ulation). Anyway, dudes may hate me, but nine out of ten chicks, gay dudes and my mom think my glasses are sick. What's more, they jibe really well with my May 2009 fashion concept, "Nerd Drinking A Big Gulp" (Just kidding! My May '09 fashion concept is actually "Fly Terrorist").
My new spex entered my life when, yesterday, I was walking down the street in the rain drinking a Big Gulp and wearing aviator sunglasses, and all of a sudden, my aviators broke. They fell off my face. It was weird. I was pissed at the time, but my aviators breaking off my face as I was wearing them ended up being the single best thing that ever happened to me in my entire life, literally. Conveniently, this all went down directly outside of an Urban Outfitters. Because I am really into using sunglasses as a tool to isolate myself from the Universe and can't deal without them, and because I am urban, and needed to be outfitted, I decided to go into Urban Outfitters and buy a new pair of sunglasses. All their sunglasses sucked, but these frames were cool, so I bought them, and then I fell in love with myself and never looked back.
I never thought I'd be the type of loser who wears prescription-less glasses frames, but this life is full of surprises, as it were. I am considering going back to Urban Outfitters and buying three more pairs of these, and then getting my actual glasses prescription put into them. I'll keep you posted, I guess, but you're weird if you care.
Thursday , April 30, 2009
Laura Jane Investigates: Was LBJ Really A Dog Torturer?
I have always had a soft spot for LBJ, because his initials are the same as mine, only with a "B" in the middle. Based on some preliminary research I conducted for this rock-solid slice of investigative journalism, It seems as though President Lyndon Baines Johnson was the only human being from all history as obsessed with his own initials as I, LJF of NGFM.C, am. But more about that later.
Based on nothing, it seems to me, LJF, an uneducated observer, that LBJ was the most boring U.S. President ever, except for maybe some other boring President from a long time ago, such as Benjamin Harrison. The only thing that anybody seems to remember about LBJ, except for that he was the Joe Biden to JFK's Barack Obama (side note: the name of my first solo record will be "LBJFK"), is that he liked to lift his beagles up onto their haunches by tugging on their ears.
Beagle ear tugging sounds cruel in my books, but I don't want to jump to any conclusions here. I'm not going to run amok thru the blogosphere, pinning names on LBJ that are not backed up by actual fact. So, it seems that the time has come for me to officially investigate: Was LBJ really a dog torturer?
EVIDENCE INDICATING THAT LBJ WAS, IN FACT, A DOG TORTURER:
1. LBJ was born on August 27th, 1908, making him a Virgo with a whole lotta Leo running through his veins. If there is one thing in the world I absolutely cannot wrap my head around, it is Leo/Virgo cusps. Honestly, I don't trust these people. I think it is possible that they could be dog torturers.
2. On the matter of beagle ear-tugging, Lyndon B. Johnson was quoted as saying, "It's good for them. It does them good to let them bark." That sounds mean. It sounds like he's trying to "toughen them up" or "treat 'em like men" or "prove what they're made of." If he had said, "It's good for them. They lick me after I do it. It really, really seems to make them happy," that would be another story. But unfortunately, this is not the case.
3. After his first round of beagles (called Him and Her, which is sweet) passed away, he got a new beagle and named it Little Beagle Johnson, so that every member of the First Family (Lyndon Baines Johnson, Lady Bird Johnson, Lynda Bird Johnson, Luci Baines Johnson) would have the initials LBJ. Damn! How megalomaniacal can a person be? This qualifies as crazy behavior in my books. It seems like the behavior of a dog torturer.
EVIDENCE INDICATING THAT LBJ WAS, IN FACT, NOT A DOG TORTURER:
1. According to this website, by far and away the Internet's most comprehensive source on LBJ beagle ear tugging, at the peak of media controversy surrounding LBJ's penchant for beagle ear tugging, "beagle experts came to Johnson's rescue, [saying] that it was indeed common practice in hunt country to tug the dogs' ears to be sure they are in good voice." Fair enough, Beagle Experts. But let's be frank here- bumming around the White House is very different from professional hunting.
2. Also according to that weird website I found, a Copenhagen-born pianist named Victor Borge once visited the White House and alleged that LBJ picked him up by the ears, and said: " You, sir, are truly a great Dane." If this is indeed true, LBJ was a crazy person. And if LBJ was a straight-up crazy man, you can't blame him for being a softcore dog torturer. Maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe he was ill.
3. Whether ear tugging is humane or not, bro clearly loved him some beagles. In addition to Him, Her, and Little Beagle Johnson, LBJ was also the proud owner of "Edgar," a gift from J. Edgar Hoover. If you are a huge enough beagle fan to own four beagles, you must feel a certain amount of affection towards the breed. In short: if you love beagles, you probably don't want to torture them. Unless, that is, you are a crazy person, which I recently determined that LBJ may very well have been. Hmmm....
LAURA JANE'S FINAL VERDICT: LBJ was pretty much a dog torturer, but by accident, and maybe because he was a crazy person. I believe that LBJ's beagle ear tugging was carried out innocently, and that criminal intent was not present.
ABOVE: An image of Him and Her on the cover of LIFE magazine. All I ever wanted to do was post this one picture, but then I got sidetracked and wrote an entire joke expose on whether or not Lyndon Baines Johnson was a dog abuser. Oopsies!