Road Diary TacocaT Tour Diary Part Two: ’80s Night is On Friday
posted by October 9 at 12:58 PMon
BREE: Downtime. Everyone crashes in my grandparent's basement and wants to go to Disneyland. I borrow my brother Brian's employee pass and his friends' season passes and Tacocat impersonates them for the day since the pictures are so blurry.
LELAH: We watch the season finale of Rock of Love. The stripper lost. Then Disneyland. Eric was so frightened by the Tower of Terror, he grabbed the old man to his left.
BREE: I thought Heather should have won. I don't like Jess.
DAY FOUR: Adderall Nighter
EMILY: We arrive at Scolari's Office in San Diego where we are greeted by a trio of scuzzy grandpa hobo types and a toothless crackpot of a woman wearing a burgundy velvet bucket hat. Stepping out of the van to unload our equipment, the geezers ask if we are the strippers. Eric clarifies that HE's the stripper and lifts his shirt. Later, stoned and vaguely weirded out, I am approached by an old-timer who can only be described as the most sun-damaged human I've ever encountered. He introduces himself as a "singer/songwriter" who will be observing our show later to consider me for his upcoming Christmas compilation. He did not end up at our show after all, but something about the food crusted around his lips had already told me that. After loading in and briefly wondering if our light up tambourine was safe to leave in the bar, it's time to eat! Eric is set on a Mexican restaurant that is located "right around the corner." Two miles and countless false alarms later, we find it, eat delicious burritos and begin the trek back. We see the Cops when we get back and join them at a bar that was celebrating "Tiki Tuesday."
BREE: Tiki Tuesday at the Pink Elephant was kitty corner from Scolari's Office. At first we were enamored with the Hawaiian band playing sweet Tiki jams, but several pineapple vodka's and bucket sized margaritas later Emily gets into some sort of verbal altercation with the ukulele player. This part of the night is a bit of a blur, but I DO remember yelling and pointing. "It's Tiki night," says the sass mouth ukulele player over the mic, taking a look at Emily's palm tree ponytail and stripey socks. "80s night is on Fridays" DISS! Then we start some sort of competition with the "Angry Chicken" dance early on. It's the Chicken Dance, but serious. Lelah takes chicken dancing pretty far out later, but she says she doesn't remember.
EMILY: Our show was decent for the amount of alcohol involved. It's apparent the Cops are our new best friends-they made our show and after massive amounts of dancing we made theirs. Chicken Dance-offs and pineapple vodkas ruled the night!
BREE: I make a comment about David Icke at our show before our Reptile song. Once again, all the creepsters flock to Emily and get to corner her on a serious discussion about the Reptilian Agenda while I get off scott free. Ha ha ha. The Cops are super fun. Lelah gets a super fan named Bear Paw who buys some merch.
LELAH: He corrects me that it's Bear Paw, not Bear Claw. He's not a doughnut.
BREE: He requests some XL shirts to be made next time around. Lelah seems to have developed a profound connection with Bear Paw.
DAY FIVE: Shark Bait
BREE: Driving. We stop in Malibu because Eric has some Egg salad sandwich he absolutely must have while he is down here. It were so so. But it's hot and we stop at the beach, have an amazing time swimming and then all of a sudden a fucking seal is swimming next to us! Fucking incredible! It was so cute. Eric swims away from the baby seal in fear, and our friend Adam loses his underwear in the turbulent surf and somehow puts them back on backwards. Me and the Roadie Rachel are on our periods and the song "Shark Bait" is briefly considered, but quickly thrown out. We drive to San Francisco and don't get there at 4 am. My friend Kallisa has an amazing super old house in the Mission District, which is nice to see after all the strip malls in LA. Lelah and Eric sleep in the van. The fucking Blue Angel's wake everyone up in the morning. Fuck the Blue Angels! I thought I was done with them for the year.
Click here to read TacocaT Tour Diary Part One: Is There a House Bong?