Randomness + Andy Hurley
Randomness:
- Harry Potter: I liked the book a lot. Which was pleasantly surprising as I had expected to have to throw it out a window. Other than that I don't really have anything to say that hasn't already been said better by someone on my flist. I was underwhelmed by the OotP movie. Prophecy in a week! \o/
- You know what I hate in stories/books? Dream sequences. Because they are invariably thematically relevant and hold great metaphorical insight (and sometimes foresight) into the character's situation in waking life. I mean, does anyone actually dream like that? (If you do, let me know. I know I tend to have much more random and surreal dreams than most people.) Because the only thing my dreams have taught me lately is that somewhere in my subconscious I know the entirety of the song Step By Step by the New Kids On The Block.
- You know what else I really hate? Musical snobbery. Well, all sorts of snobbery, really, but the musical kind has really been grinding on my nerves lately. Particularly when it comes from musicians. Nothing kills my respect for a musician faster than negatively judging music they haven't even listened to. I don't care if your the guy in my music theory class who tries to look all musically sophisticated by bringing in some obscure, jazz-trained death metal band and looking askance at me for making you listen to Sinead O'Connor and wearing a My Chemical Romance hoodie, or a folk singer who thinks anything that's been vaguely mainstream in the last twenty years is crap.
I mean, check this one out, folks: The first full weekend of July was the Winnipeg Folk Festival. The week before the festival they hold a Folk Retreat, where, basically, you pay them a bunch of money and get to take music classes taught by some of the performers at the festival. One of the teachers this year was Christine Lavin. Now, I'd like to point out that this is a woman who has largely made her career singing comedy songs, so not someone you'd really expect to take themselves too seriously. And Yet. In her performance techniques class she let people get up and play little three song sets. Matt (this adorable 18 year-old kid who reminds me a lot of Cassidy/Beaver from Veronica Mars, without the being psychotic bit) asked if we wanted to hear either a song about thrift shopping or a Radiohead cover, and Christine told him to play the original. Then later, at dinner, she was talking to another retreat participant about how she thinks mainstream music has all been total trash for the past twenty years and said, "Like earlier? When Matt wanted to play that cover of, what was it? Radiohead? I mean I've heard of Radiohead, but I've never actually heard.... Well, I knew no one would want to hear that." I honestly think I just sat there and gaped like a fish for the next ten minutes. She just wrote off Radiohead as pop trash. I mean we're not talking about Britney Spears here, people. Fucking Radiohead.
- Otherwise, the Folk Retreat was pretty good. I got to hang out with a girl I went to summer camp with and hadn't seen for six years. I also finished writing a song for the first time in four years. I'm pretty happy with it, though I was kinda dissappointed by the lack of reaction it garnered from the people in the songwriting workshop because I tend to think I'm clever, and also, no one seemed to get my Star Trek reference. At least Stephan Fearing was somewhat helplful in his feedback, unlike James Keelaghan last year who didn't seem to know what to do with me since I don't write with an instrument. (Note to anyone attending a songwiting workshop: "You should learn to play an instrument" is not helpful constructive criticism.)
- Folk Fest itself was kinda a downer this year. I had the cold from hell, there wasn't a new act that really knocked my socks off this year, and I was alone pretty much the whole weekend because I couldn't find anyone I knew at all during the days and thegiantkiller had volunteer shifts for large chunks of the evenings. The highlight of the festival for me was African American sting band, the Carolina Chocolate Drops, and their cover of Blu Cantrell's Hit 'Em Up Style. (You can listen to them play it on A Prairie Home Companion here) I love cross-genre covers so much. Hip hop should always have banjos and fiddles. The post-festival highlight has proven to be Final Fantasy (not the game, Owen Pallett's side project). I didn't get to hear much of him at the festival, but I was intrigued and bought the CD anyway and it's pretty cool. Musically, think Belle & Sebastian, but sparser and with a string quartet. Lyrically, there are song titles like The CN Tower Belongs To The Dead, and lines like, "Montreal may eat its young" and "my mother never takes a break from her pining after furniture".
- Before Folk Fest week there was a little thing called the Honda Civic Tour with Sam and thepurpleswitch and impasto. I didn't post a review at the time because my reaction was 95% JESUS CHRIST, ANDY HURLEY, with a side of the Beat It cover owning my soul. I even managed to totally miss both Pete/Patrick moments because I was too busy staring at Andy. However, there was cute Pete/Andy moment during Thriller when Pete blew him a kiss, and I now have the way his chest muscles move while he's drumming ingrained in my mind, so I feel it was a fair exchange. And since that was pretty much going to be my review of the concert, I felt that it should at least be accompanied by picspam supporting my Andy fixation, and because I'm slow, getting that together has taken the past month. However, I can now bring you:
JESUS CHRIST, ANDY HURLEY: The Picspam
This is Andy Hurley.
Andy is smoking hot.
He has amazing tattoos, that increase my desire to lick him by about 53493000%.
And he loves his mom.
I mentioned he has amazing tattoos, right? (And a pretty high pain tolerance, I'd think.)
Andy plays the drums. In a band called Fall Out Boy, even. (Andy = Bill Weasley?)
But, this?
Is all I remeber
of HCT.
He is tiny and precious, a fact that I think often gets lost because this fandom is kinda flooded with tiny, precious boys.
Who are also GIANT DORKS. (Insert you favourite lightsaber=penis joke here, folks. I'm too lazy to choose.)
See? Tiny, precious, smiling dork.
Who likes to try on shiny things that don't belong to him.
Because he's a pretty, pretty princess.
Told you so. (I suppose this picture could have waited until the Pete/Andy section of this picspam, but it seemed opportune. Nothing says "I love you" like agreeing to dress up like a pixelated damsel in distress.)
And, hey, look, it's the rest of the band. Squatting. In a parking lot. ...I don't know, but Andy's hot!
Um, I really don't know where this commentary is going anymore, guys. So let's just absorbs the amazingness of Andy for a bit.
*will not be distracted by Patrick, will not be distracted by Patrick, will not be distracted by Patrick* Fucking hell, Stump, I'm trying to obsess about Andy here! Take the hand away from the belt buckle!
Oh, stop pouting. There will be plenty of time to take your pants off later.
Whoever did wardrobe for this shoot should be shot. Even if it was them.
Ok, so this is a horrible picture, image quality-wise, but asdfghgjkl;gfdtyng. Hand! Arm!
God, he does suits well for someone who seem like such a... non-suit-wearing kind of guy. (Pete has been replaced with the latest Real Dolls model, which they plan to market as the perfect gift for your favourite emo kid's 18th birthday.)
Real Dolls will be sponsoring the next FOB tour.
God. There is nothing about this picture that does not kill me.
Ok, tear your gaze away from the Pete/Patrick/Joe amazingness for just moment, and take a look at Andy in this picture. asdfghjk. Hair, t-shirt, jeans, hands in pockets. Blazer, OMG. asdfghjkklhurugethht.
Waist! HIPS! *is dead*
So, by now I figure that if you have eyes you've realized that Andy = hotass. That means it's time to move on to the part of the picspam where I use photographic evidence to convince you that you should all be writing me Andy porn right now:
All the FOB boys love them some Andy, but we'll start with Andy/Pete because it is the most often caught on film.
They're kinda ridiculously adorable sometimes, guys.
Like when they totally stand in Boyfriends Pose.
And wear MATCHING HOODIES.
This picture kills me more than any other of them. THE LOOK ON PETE'S FACE, GUYS. I JUST. IT'S LIKE PATRICK AND GUY-WHO-I-ASSUME-IS-A-HIP-HOP-ARTIST DON'T EVEN EXIST.
I don't know what brought this about, but it should ALWAYS BE HAPPENING. (There will be a whole line of FBR Real Dolls. One lucky fan will win a grand prize set of the entire band on the last day of the tour.)
Joe may not approve, but I certainly do. God. Such dorkasses.
I'm including this one here because I feel anyone who's been around Pete for as long as Andy has is going to need to try and kill him a couple of times.
I WOULD LIKE TO CALL ATTENTION TO ANDY'S LEFT HAND AND HOW HE MAY OR MAY NOT BE TOUCHING HIMSELF HERE.
I would wholly approve of any fic literalizing the scenario implied here.
OR HERE. Which brings us to:
Andy/Joe
Now, tbh, most of the time I'm really not into Joe sexually. He's like this ultimate distillation of every Jewish boy I grew up with, and just... no.
But I will make an exception for Andy/Joe.
Because sometimes Joe looks at Andy like he can't wait to get away from the cameras and rip his cloths off.
And that just leaves Andy/Patrick, of the intra-band pairings. It can be an elusive creature to find in canon, but I've got to admit, it's my favourite. Why does no one write them? It makes me sad. :(
Seriously, WHERE IS THE BUS-SHARING PORN, PEOPLE.
Yes, I realize the rest of the band is in the other half of this picture, but this is the part I have on hand, and it has PANTLESS PATRICK. AND ANDY'S FLY IS UNDONE.
Ok, so this one's a bit of a stretch. But Andy's facial expression combined with the shadow of Patrick's hand directly on his crotch amuses me.
ANDY/PATRICK/GERARD!!! Anyone who wrote that would pretty much own me. I would be your willing slave. That's three out of my four favourite boys in bandom, right there. It's only missing...
SPENCER SMITH. I SHOULD NOT BE THE ONLY ONE WRITING ANDY/SPENCER. DRUMMER PORN, GUYS. Seriously. Everyone seems to be all over the Spencer/Bob these days. Why is there no Spencer/Andy love?
Also, Jon is looking pretty damn well-fucked there.
And finally, ANDY/BUTCHER. Tattooed drummers named Andy, guys, they're MFEO. Also, just take a moment and picture them fucking. The tattoos alone would KILL ME DEAD. GOD.
- Harry Potter: I liked the book a lot. Which was pleasantly surprising as I had expected to have to throw it out a window. Other than that I don't really have anything to say that hasn't already been said better by someone on my flist. I was underwhelmed by the OotP movie. Prophecy in a week! \o/
- You know what I hate in stories/books? Dream sequences. Because they are invariably thematically relevant and hold great metaphorical insight (and sometimes foresight) into the character's situation in waking life. I mean, does anyone actually dream like that? (If you do, let me know. I know I tend to have much more random and surreal dreams than most people.) Because the only thing my dreams have taught me lately is that somewhere in my subconscious I know the entirety of the song Step By Step by the New Kids On The Block.
- You know what else I really hate? Musical snobbery. Well, all sorts of snobbery, really, but the musical kind has really been grinding on my nerves lately. Particularly when it comes from musicians. Nothing kills my respect for a musician faster than negatively judging music they haven't even listened to. I don't care if your the guy in my music theory class who tries to look all musically sophisticated by bringing in some obscure, jazz-trained death metal band and looking askance at me for making you listen to Sinead O'Connor and wearing a My Chemical Romance hoodie, or a folk singer who thinks anything that's been vaguely mainstream in the last twenty years is crap.
I mean, check this one out, folks: The first full weekend of July was the Winnipeg Folk Festival. The week before the festival they hold a Folk Retreat, where, basically, you pay them a bunch of money and get to take music classes taught by some of the performers at the festival. One of the teachers this year was Christine Lavin. Now, I'd like to point out that this is a woman who has largely made her career singing comedy songs, so not someone you'd really expect to take themselves too seriously. And Yet. In her performance techniques class she let people get up and play little three song sets. Matt (this adorable 18 year-old kid who reminds me a lot of Cassidy/Beaver from Veronica Mars, without the being psychotic bit) asked if we wanted to hear either a song about thrift shopping or a Radiohead cover, and Christine told him to play the original. Then later, at dinner, she was talking to another retreat participant about how she thinks mainstream music has all been total trash for the past twenty years and said, "Like earlier? When Matt wanted to play that cover of, what was it? Radiohead? I mean I've heard of Radiohead, but I've never actually heard.... Well, I knew no one would want to hear that." I honestly think I just sat there and gaped like a fish for the next ten minutes. She just wrote off Radiohead as pop trash. I mean we're not talking about Britney Spears here, people. Fucking Radiohead.
- Otherwise, the Folk Retreat was pretty good. I got to hang out with a girl I went to summer camp with and hadn't seen for six years. I also finished writing a song for the first time in four years. I'm pretty happy with it, though I was kinda dissappointed by the lack of reaction it garnered from the people in the songwriting workshop because I tend to think I'm clever, and also, no one seemed to get my Star Trek reference. At least Stephan Fearing was somewhat helplful in his feedback, unlike James Keelaghan last year who didn't seem to know what to do with me since I don't write with an instrument. (Note to anyone attending a songwiting workshop: "You should learn to play an instrument" is not helpful constructive criticism.)
- Folk Fest itself was kinda a downer this year. I had the cold from hell, there wasn't a new act that really knocked my socks off this year, and I was alone pretty much the whole weekend because I couldn't find anyone I knew at all during the days and thegiantkiller had volunteer shifts for large chunks of the evenings. The highlight of the festival for me was African American sting band, the Carolina Chocolate Drops, and their cover of Blu Cantrell's Hit 'Em Up Style. (You can listen to them play it on A Prairie Home Companion here) I love cross-genre covers so much. Hip hop should always have banjos and fiddles. The post-festival highlight has proven to be Final Fantasy (not the game, Owen Pallett's side project). I didn't get to hear much of him at the festival, but I was intrigued and bought the CD anyway and it's pretty cool. Musically, think Belle & Sebastian, but sparser and with a string quartet. Lyrically, there are song titles like The CN Tower Belongs To The Dead, and lines like, "Montreal may eat its young" and "my mother never takes a break from her pining after furniture".
- Before Folk Fest week there was a little thing called the Honda Civic Tour with Sam and thepurpleswitch and impasto. I didn't post a review at the time because my reaction was 95% JESUS CHRIST, ANDY HURLEY, with a side of the Beat It cover owning my soul. I even managed to totally miss both Pete/Patrick moments because I was too busy staring at Andy. However, there was cute Pete/Andy moment during Thriller when Pete blew him a kiss, and I now have the way his chest muscles move while he's drumming ingrained in my mind, so I feel it was a fair exchange. And since that was pretty much going to be my review of the concert, I felt that it should at least be accompanied by picspam supporting my Andy fixation, and because I'm slow, getting that together has taken the past month. However, I can now bring you:
JESUS CHRIST, ANDY HURLEY: The Picspam
This is Andy Hurley.
Andy is smoking hot.
He has amazing tattoos, that increase my desire to lick him by about 53493000%.
And he loves his mom.
I mentioned he has amazing tattoos, right? (And a pretty high pain tolerance, I'd think.)
Andy plays the drums. In a band called Fall Out Boy, even. (Andy = Bill Weasley?)
But, this?
Is all I remeber
of HCT.
He is tiny and precious, a fact that I think often gets lost because this fandom is kinda flooded with tiny, precious boys.
Who are also GIANT DORKS. (Insert you favourite lightsaber=penis joke here, folks. I'm too lazy to choose.)
See? Tiny, precious, smiling dork.
Who likes to try on shiny things that don't belong to him.
Because he's a pretty, pretty princess.
Told you so. (I suppose this picture could have waited until the Pete/Andy section of this picspam, but it seemed opportune. Nothing says "I love you" like agreeing to dress up like a pixelated damsel in distress.)
And, hey, look, it's the rest of the band. Squatting. In a parking lot. ...I don't know, but Andy's hot!
Um, I really don't know where this commentary is going anymore, guys. So let's just absorbs the amazingness of Andy for a bit.
*will not be distracted by Patrick, will not be distracted by Patrick, will not be distracted by Patrick* Fucking hell, Stump, I'm trying to obsess about Andy here! Take the hand away from the belt buckle!
Oh, stop pouting. There will be plenty of time to take your pants off later.
Whoever did wardrobe for this shoot should be shot. Even if it was them.
Ok, so this is a horrible picture, image quality-wise, but asdfghgjkl;gfdtyng. Hand! Arm!
God, he does suits well for someone who seem like such a... non-suit-wearing kind of guy. (Pete has been replaced with the latest Real Dolls model, which they plan to market as the perfect gift for your favourite emo kid's 18th birthday.)
Real Dolls will be sponsoring the next FOB tour.
God. There is nothing about this picture that does not kill me.
Ok, tear your gaze away from the Pete/Patrick/Joe amazingness for just moment, and take a look at Andy in this picture. asdfghjk. Hair, t-shirt, jeans, hands in pockets. Blazer, OMG. asdfghjkklhurugethht.
Waist! HIPS! *is dead*
So, by now I figure that if you have eyes you've realized that Andy = hotass. That means it's time to move on to the part of the picspam where I use photographic evidence to convince you that you should all be writing me Andy porn right now:
All the FOB boys love them some Andy, but we'll start with Andy/Pete because it is the most often caught on film.
They're kinda ridiculously adorable sometimes, guys.
Like when they totally stand in Boyfriends Pose.
And wear MATCHING HOODIES.
This picture kills me more than any other of them. THE LOOK ON PETE'S FACE, GUYS. I JUST. IT'S LIKE PATRICK AND GUY-WHO-I-ASSUME-IS-A-HIP-HOP-ARTIST DON'T EVEN EXIST.
I don't know what brought this about, but it should ALWAYS BE HAPPENING. (There will be a whole line of FBR Real Dolls. One lucky fan will win a grand prize set of the entire band on the last day of the tour.)
Joe may not approve, but I certainly do. God. Such dorkasses.
I'm including this one here because I feel anyone who's been around Pete for as long as Andy has is going to need to try and kill him a couple of times.
I WOULD LIKE TO CALL ATTENTION TO ANDY'S LEFT HAND AND HOW HE MAY OR MAY NOT BE TOUCHING HIMSELF HERE.
I would wholly approve of any fic literalizing the scenario implied here.
OR HERE. Which brings us to:
Andy/Joe
Now, tbh, most of the time I'm really not into Joe sexually. He's like this ultimate distillation of every Jewish boy I grew up with, and just... no.
But I will make an exception for Andy/Joe.
Because sometimes Joe looks at Andy like he can't wait to get away from the cameras and rip his cloths off.
And that just leaves Andy/Patrick, of the intra-band pairings. It can be an elusive creature to find in canon, but I've got to admit, it's my favourite. Why does no one write them? It makes me sad. :(
Seriously, WHERE IS THE BUS-SHARING PORN, PEOPLE.
Yes, I realize the rest of the band is in the other half of this picture, but this is the part I have on hand, and it has PANTLESS PATRICK. AND ANDY'S FLY IS UNDONE.
Ok, so this one's a bit of a stretch. But Andy's facial expression combined with the shadow of Patrick's hand directly on his crotch amuses me.
ANDY/PATRICK/GERARD!!! Anyone who wrote that would pretty much own me. I would be your willing slave. That's three out of my four favourite boys in bandom, right there. It's only missing...
SPENCER SMITH. I SHOULD NOT BE THE ONLY ONE WRITING ANDY/SPENCER. DRUMMER PORN, GUYS. Seriously. Everyone seems to be all over the Spencer/Bob these days. Why is there no Spencer/Andy love?
Also, Jon is looking pretty damn well-fucked there.
And finally, ANDY/BUTCHER. Tattooed drummers named Andy, guys, they're MFEO. Also, just take a moment and picture them fucking. The tattoos alone would KILL ME DEAD. GOD.