and a new tour schedule as my job really likes me and apparently knows i have to go kill myself in other cities in order to live. like that black sabbath song.
8/13 – fargo, nd
8/14 – minot, nd
8/15 – bozeman, mt
8/16 – total fest, missoula, mt
8/17 – total fest, missoula, mt
8/18 – total fest, missoula, mt
8/19 – seattle, wa
8/20 – olympia, wa
8/21 – portland, or
8/22 – eugene, or (NEED HELP, MAYBE SOMEWHERE DIFFERENT)
8/23 – chico, ca
8/24 – davis, ca
8/25 – san francisco, ca
8/26 – oakland, ca
8/27 – reno, nv
8/28 – slc, ut
8/29 – denver, co
8/30 – omaha, ne
8/31 – home
will fill in the times/bands soon.
on with the show.
we traveled down some highway that i never bothered to care about because i don’t have to drive, debating the alcohol laws in missouri. when we were in st. louis before, Rob from CARDIAC ARREST basically taught us that you can drink in the car as long as you’re not driving. basically, this shit seems to be false with the exception of st. louis. unfortunately this is not a prelude to some wild story where we get beaten up by the cops. it’s just something you should know unless someone else tells you.
one thing we didnt debate was whether or not we should stop at the flea market behind the gas station in some city called “St. Joe’s”.
on the way up, Angela pointed out a pretty stunning decal on a car
the flea market promised a bunch of amazing shit inside, but instead it was a bunch of what could be referred to as “old people bullshit”. knit dolls and antique mailboxes painted like birdhouses or something.
but there was something worthwhile at this flea market. the promise of barbequed meat. after roaming around the old people bullshit, i finally asked someone at the counter where it was and they directed me upstairs with the warning that it was closing soon. so dan and i darted up the stairs and were greeted by a sign in the front of a very large, open room with people milling about, probably looking at more old people bullshit. but to the left of the sign, there was a small kitchen and a table with various fixings for sandwiches.
we went up and were basically told that our minds were going to be blown by the food, courtesy of this couple in the kitchen. we got barbequed sandwiches while Dan and the nice people rambled about Austin Powers or something. then they told me to take a picture of my sandwich. so i did. then we talked about Pantera. then we talked about bands. the lady was in a band called BAD GIRLS GO TO HELL . the way she said it basically came across like they were the most famous fuckers on the planet. and judging from that video i linked, they definitely have their shit together a lot more than we do. but we still probably break more things.
“yeah, we can’t even play our instruments but we have vaginas. yup, electric guitars and vaginas.”
dead serious, she said that. then she and dude gave us like, fucking eight gigantic sausages and a shitload of cookies. so we gave them a record.
“a record? i have no idea when i’m gonna be able to play this. i guess there’s an 80s party tonight that might have a turntable.”
so yeah, we’re going to go back to St. Joseph, Missouri, and play a show with this band and get beaten up and eat bbq.
eventually we got to Kansas City after shaving weird shit into pat’s head and blasting NIHILISTICS and NIGHT BIRDS over and over again. thanks to John from CULO for teaching me about NIHILISTICS. i am a poser and not a real punk. at least i can talk about the best ENTOMBED record.
we went to Nic from SUCKED DRY‘s place, which is basically a fucking mansion as far as i’m concerned.
we ate a bunch of sausages and watched some of Total Recall, hung out with a cat named Pizza, drank some beer and screwed around on the roof with a bunch of cool people, none of which i remember the name of. i remember talking to this gal about 311 because people in Kansas City are legitimately into 311. the band. the band with the white guys playing reggae…rap…rock.
then some other shit happened and we ended up driving to Outer Space, the place Nic opened up because there was a lack of decent places to put punk shows at. on the way, we stopped at a convenience store to get beer because you can actually do that in some parts of America. on my way through the aisles, a very well dressed man brandished a Mr. Potatohead doll to me
“BETTER START SHOPPING FOR CHRISTMAS”, he yelled.
i said something funny back to him but didn’t write it down because by that point i had already been drinking.
so we show up to Outer Space after circling the block four times because we’re idiots and we unload. there’s even a spot for a merch table and a refrigerator in the back. and some other shit. i guess the place used to be a karate studio or something.
DIRTY WORK played first. Some of them were dudes we were hanging out with back at Nic’s place and they definitely had a Dirty Work VHS sitting around. that movie with Norm MacDonald. anyway, they were excellent and the singer smashed the mic into his head over and over again until he was bleeding everywhere.
i dont know what they sound like but im about to download the DIRTY WORK demo. i didnt write what they sounded like because i was busy having a good time watching them. and besides, i’m a poser so i probably would’ve told you it sounds like 311 or something.
the only problem with their set was the bright florescent lights, which our Tour Advisor, Rory, demanded we remedy. so somehow we ended up with a work light on the stage and all the lights cut off – something we should probably always do. the result was this:
per usual you can’t hear shit and it doesn’t matter because our guitarist, Pat, is dressed in full drag and wearing make-up. joel is rocking back and forth with his bass like he’s having a mild seizure, and dan is smashing away at his drums and thinking about weed and gas station cheeseburgers. all while i do my best to scare the shit out of everyone by throwing things, pushing people, and punching myself in the face. during our set i got nailed in the head with a few beer cans and tore my finger open trying to launch one across the room. my finger got stuck in the opening of the beer can.
so i did the only logical thing and wiped blood all over my face and legs, as i was in my underwear. then charged into the crowd and watched people try to get away from me. i always feel sort of bad when i realize i’m truly scaring someone, but it doesn’t really matter because usually there is someone there who is not playing a show who is way scarier.
someone dumped beer on me to get rid of the blood. someone else dumped faygo on me. it was orange flavored faygo.
i also wrote “luke – glasses said hi”, which i don’t know what that means. it could’ve been this young dude i was talking to earlier, but i can’t remember. anyway, the set was fun. we scared people and sold some things. i wandered around outside with no pants, trying to cool down and stop sweating.
i wiped my bloody finger on some dude’s white t-shirt who was walking by and shared a laugh with a few people. then inside, in the bathroom, i tried to clean up my ripped finger and some other kid came into the bathroom, clutching his finger, also covered in blood.
“what happened, man?”
“well i was trying to throw a can of beer at you and my finger got stuck in the opening and it ripped open.”
“aw! we’re beer can finger buddies!”
SUCKED DRY played and it was exceedingly loud and exceedingly noisy. Pat stood in front and did the weird shit where he just sticks his hips out and screams over and over again while watching the band. This big bald dude that Dan knew from playing shows in Kansas City over the last ten years started to get into a fight with some kid. someone yelled “THE CAVEMAN IS OUT” when it happened. i also wrote down the name “Dale” for some reason.
afterward we met ______(dale?) from NO CLASS. joel argued with him and Nic about barbeque for a long time before about 20 people from the show decided to head down to a line dancing bar down the street called DENIM & DIAMONDS.
Nic educated me that his idea opening this place up was to go and frequent all the local bars so that they would become a staple in the area and that the cops would leave them alone for pumping so much money into all the surrounding bars. pretty damn ingenious.
so we went to a country bar. i spilled tequila all over myself but it didnt matter because the drinks were so cheap. the bathroom was covered with pictures of swimsuit models. i dont remember what joel did. pat had disappeared. then pat showed up and fell over and got kicked out. Rory went line dancing. punks went line dancing. i talked to some tall dudes in cowboy hats who were really nice. “weird punx invade cowtown”. i also yelled at Joel for something. somehow we left and made it back to Nic’s house where i fell asleep in a recliner, unable to figure out if everyone had ordered pizza or if everyone was just talking about the cat, pizza.
i also woke up in a panic while someone was cooking a MANWICH because the sound of the meat sizzling sounded like rain, and the van roof had yet to be patched up.
when i woke up the next day, i was so hungover i tried charging my phone by inserting the wall prongs into the input of my phone.
