Disclaimer: If I sound like a crank, it's only because this journal will lean towards showcasing the LOWS of the trip, as I don't find much entertainment value in the "we made it there in record time/wow gas is cheap here/they gave us FOUR drink tickets/the place was packed/I found a dollar on the ground/turns out crabs actually "FEEL GOOD" good luck stories—I wanna hear about the horrors. Unless you get to do blow back at Grace Jones's hotel room or urinate into some evil band's merch tub, positive highlights are just kinda boring. All right, let's DO this:
(Forgive me, this intro was written back in September.)
Hey kids! It's "back to school" time and "back to work" time and "time to GROW UP" time so you know what that means...it's time for America's #1 Rock and Roll Cockroaches to skitter across the country sucking up our precious nutrients in the dive-iest nightclubs each city has to offer. The cast is keyboardist Susanna Welbourne, drummer Pete Capponni, bassist Jed Maheu, and me.
After wrapping up some neglected chores, like duct taping our side mirror back on and paying our lapsed van registration, we are ready to hit the road, at 4:30 p.m. in Los Angeles! A couple hours outside of town, in a Starbucks parking lot, there is a long white bus with a throng of Asian tourists standing around, and as we pull in, a very tall white pick-up drives by them, and on a C.B. type intercom the driver yells at them to "go the fuck back to Tokyo" and peels out.
While using the single occupancy bathroom that either has a green "vacant" sign or a red "occupied" sign on the outside lock, somebody furiously jiggles the handle then knocks on the door and I say, "Yes?" A minute later they wrench on the knob again and knock hard and I say "YES?!" Thirty seconds later they bang on the door AGAIN and I scream "WHAT!? SOMEONE IS IN HERE!!" Then they knock again. When I jerk open the door to strangle whatever kind maniac is outside there is the most adorable teeny little kid with his eyes popping out of their sockets at me. I will have plenty of time on the 16+ hour drive to contemplate what a monster I have become.
This reminds me of a story a buddy told me once of sitting in a bathroom stall and a little kid came in the bathroom and opened the poorly locked stall door and just stared at him and they guy yells, "What are you doing?? Shut the door!" scarring the kid who tears up and walks INSIDE the stall with him and shuts the door.
While crawling along we start charting our course and plan to stay at the halfway point in Richfield, Utah, and only need to drive until 2:00 am. Oops! Every hotel is sold out. Oops! They recommend trying the next city an hour and a half away. Oops! Every hotel here is sold out too! Oops! We push on to Green River, arriving after 7:00 a.m., and luckily they have a room and we sleep. When I was growing up my mom told me when I was an adult I could stay up as late as I want so WHO'S LAUGHING NOW 'MA? (Please don't really tell my mother.)
The sheer number of Romney banners and support here in Utah gives us all the KA-REEPS.
My boredom has plateaued...
Mega Spank Scrabble Move > God's Natural Wonders
If only we had gotten here sooner...
Jed has gotten a movie role and has to finish shooting so he will have to miss tonight and the Minneapolis show, unfortunately, so we will have to play as a "Sour Trio." We are opening for the Corin Tucker Band tonight, who are very nice. The food at the club is great but the show is kinda dudley. Tour tip: Take all the water from backstage and drink it all day long "FOR YOUR HEALTH DUMMY"! Sure you have to stop at every other gas station but that's why I always like to have a couple of girls in the band so our bladders sync up. That is sexist AND true!
Just driving all day in this flat dull landscape. Some days you realize you might as well be a truck driver. To cheer myself up I do some cool math. Last night we got paid $250 for this, show split three ways. $83ish bucks. We play a 30 minute set. So TECHNICALLY we are making almost $166 an hour. I'm like a dentist!
Our morning "Oatmeal Lab." This is for two people. Earth first!
Peee-eeeww, I think the fermented sack of unborn piglets in Pete's bag is starting to reek. My bad, that's just NEBRASKA, son! The cool thing here is you can crap your pants in most places driving along the I-35 corridor and no one can even tell. Man, even the SKY is brown here! Tonight is the first (and only!) time we get any of our tour rider (when it is connected to the contracts our booker emails me it usually has a big black X over the whole thing). Which is weird—the only thing on our rider is depression, self doubt, and Sun Chips.