This Is a Long Post for Someone with Nothing to Think About
'Twas a busy weekend, full of lots of driving and being told I'm a bad person (because I think Panera sucks, among other things). So! In the interest of keeping Ryan apprised of the happenings in-town, I will tell him about when I left town and did some stuff (helpful, I know).
We drove to Lexington, KY, for a "private event" show. Everything is oddly greener in KY than in VA. It was a lovely time of year to drive, although waking up at 8am on a Saturday was almost trauma-inducing.
Luckily, I drink waaaaay too much coffee and was soon regaling my co-travelers with wit and interesting factoids. It's my knack, and I'm sure they would no doubt confirm this fact—and leave out the parts where I told way too many dumb, lame jokes.
On the way down, I successfully endeared Miley Cyrus' "See You Again" to my travelmates. I'm sure heebie would be proud. We blasted it on the way to the gig. We are big dorks.
Also on the way, in the truck, we joked about not knowing whose birthday party we were playing. I mean, we knew it was a twenty-first birthday, but maybe it was for someone famous! Or the offspring thereof!
This led to a silly hypothetical featuring Christopher Walken throwing a big bash for his son or daughter. In between songs, Walken would yell "More cowbell!"
After three of four songs, we'd pipe up, "Yeah. We get it, Chris. The cowbell joke. We get it. Chill out, man."
This is the kind of senseless blather that comes from seven hours of driving.
Oh, yes, the truck. Have you ever almost been in a wreck in a truck pulling a trailer? It's FUCKING TERRIFYING (swervy, swervy, we're gonna die, swervy). Kudos to Boobers who was able to correct enough to save our asses.
After "The Incident" I pulled out a cigarette and we all sat in silence for a bit. Scary shit, that almost-dying thing.
After setting up at the event site, we had some time to kill and headed to a CVS to get a few supplies (read: liquor, which, by the by, can be bought in CVS in KY; I also bought Q-Tips™).
While ringing us up, the clerk noted that we were four dudes from Virginia, and I explained we were playing a show in town, yadda yadda. Another guy in line took interest and asked us a few questions about the band.
Turns out he used to the be manager of the band Exile, who wrote the #1 hit, "Kiss You All Over" oh these many years ago.
Small world.
Nice guy.
We made our way to the gig to discover that, as suspected, the Beatles cover band that preceded us was the most schlockly group of asshats ever assembled—so schlocky, in fact, that even each of their asses donned a hat. True story!
The show went well, though.
The morning after, I sprung from bed before 9am (what the hell?). I had to try the jet-equipped bathtub, which, on the night prior, was dubbed by Boobers to be THE BEST OMG BATHING EXPERIENCE OMFG OF MY LIFE! ZOMFG!
It was nice, but I think the two beers he had prior to tub-time pushed him towards a bit of hyperbole.
Regardless, it's worth noting that I was bathed and dressed and ready to go at 9:30 on a Sunday. The Lord him- or herself fainted.
So, Panera sucks. It really does. End of story. As does Starbucks and a bunch of other things I hated on this weekend.
Oh, and the fucking Eagles. And Beatles cover bands. Fact.
Speaking of bands, on the ride home, we were listening to a Cake song, and I commented that, while I find Cake generally okay and agreeable, I can't imagine anyone pronouncing Cake as her or his favorite band.
Boobers and Chico referred to a previous conversation in which they'd determined that there is certainly one band who has never been—and will never be—listed as anyone's favorite band.
And that band is Smashmouth.
I find truth universal in this statement.
I tend to read a lot of newspapers on the road. You stop at a gas station. You pick up the local newspaper. And you're set for awhile (with a crossword to boot!).
I saw a lovely photo of asparagus in one of the local papers I picked up.
Almost home, Chico got a call from Dools. Good news; bad news.
Good news! Dools' flight from Asia had made it to the US without crashing!
Bad news: they made an emergency landing on the West Coast. Chico had plans to pick her up after we made it home. Dools' chances of making it home tonight suddenly appeared slimmer.
Fuckin' bummer, Dools. That sucks. Hope it was a good trip nonetheless.
Another delightful observation was from Beast, whom I was quizzing about raising cattle (his family's in the business, and we were passing lots of cattle farms).
He said something to the effect of "Cows are basically liked stoned humans. They're dumb and easily freaked out. They spot you a field away and think 'HOLY FUCK. SHIT. FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCK. WHAT DO I DO?!?!' and then they walk away non-chalantly."
I found this comparison wholly amusing.
Once home, I turned my attention to the grocery store. I was after some asparagus after that lovely photo, but alas, the store had none.
I settled for broccolini, which failed to pass muster, partly, sure, because it was the vegetable after which I was not.
Oh, well. At least my pee won't smell weird tomorrow. (Well, not asparagus-weird.)
* * *
We drove to Lexington, KY, for a "private event" show. Everything is oddly greener in KY than in VA. It was a lovely time of year to drive, although waking up at 8am on a Saturday was almost trauma-inducing.
Luckily, I drink waaaaay too much coffee and was soon regaling my co-travelers with wit and interesting factoids. It's my knack, and I'm sure they would no doubt confirm this fact—and leave out the parts where I told way too many dumb, lame jokes.
* * *
On the way down, I successfully endeared Miley Cyrus' "See You Again" to my travelmates. I'm sure heebie would be proud. We blasted it on the way to the gig. We are big dorks.
* * *
Also on the way, in the truck, we joked about not knowing whose birthday party we were playing. I mean, we knew it was a twenty-first birthday, but maybe it was for someone famous! Or the offspring thereof!
This led to a silly hypothetical featuring Christopher Walken throwing a big bash for his son or daughter. In between songs, Walken would yell "More cowbell!"
After three of four songs, we'd pipe up, "Yeah. We get it, Chris. The cowbell joke. We get it. Chill out, man."
This is the kind of senseless blather that comes from seven hours of driving.
* * *
Oh, yes, the truck. Have you ever almost been in a wreck in a truck pulling a trailer? It's FUCKING TERRIFYING (swervy, swervy, we're gonna die, swervy). Kudos to Boobers who was able to correct enough to save our asses.
After "The Incident" I pulled out a cigarette and we all sat in silence for a bit. Scary shit, that almost-dying thing.
* * *
After setting up at the event site, we had some time to kill and headed to a CVS to get a few supplies (read: liquor, which, by the by, can be bought in CVS in KY; I also bought Q-Tips™).
While ringing us up, the clerk noted that we were four dudes from Virginia, and I explained we were playing a show in town, yadda yadda. Another guy in line took interest and asked us a few questions about the band.
Turns out he used to the be manager of the band Exile, who wrote the #1 hit, "Kiss You All Over" oh these many years ago.
Small world.
Nice guy.
* * *
We made our way to the gig to discover that, as suspected, the Beatles cover band that preceded us was the most schlockly group of asshats ever assembled—so schlocky, in fact, that even each of their asses donned a hat. True story!
The show went well, though.
* * *
The morning after, I sprung from bed before 9am (what the hell?). I had to try the jet-equipped bathtub, which, on the night prior, was dubbed by Boobers to be THE BEST OMG BATHING EXPERIENCE OMFG OF MY LIFE! ZOMFG!
It was nice, but I think the two beers he had prior to tub-time pushed him towards a bit of hyperbole.
Regardless, it's worth noting that I was bathed and dressed and ready to go at 9:30 on a Sunday. The Lord him- or herself fainted.
* * *
So, Panera sucks. It really does. End of story. As does Starbucks and a bunch of other things I hated on this weekend.
Oh, and the fucking Eagles. And Beatles cover bands. Fact.
* * *
Speaking of bands, on the ride home, we were listening to a Cake song, and I commented that, while I find Cake generally okay and agreeable, I can't imagine anyone pronouncing Cake as her or his favorite band.
Boobers and Chico referred to a previous conversation in which they'd determined that there is certainly one band who has never been—and will never be—listed as anyone's favorite band.
And that band is Smashmouth.
I find truth universal in this statement.
* * *
I tend to read a lot of newspapers on the road. You stop at a gas station. You pick up the local newspaper. And you're set for awhile (with a crossword to boot!).
I saw a lovely photo of asparagus in one of the local papers I picked up.
* * *
Almost home, Chico got a call from Dools. Good news; bad news.
Good news! Dools' flight from Asia had made it to the US without crashing!
Bad news: they made an emergency landing on the West Coast. Chico had plans to pick her up after we made it home. Dools' chances of making it home tonight suddenly appeared slimmer.
Fuckin' bummer, Dools. That sucks. Hope it was a good trip nonetheless.
* * *
Another delightful observation was from Beast, whom I was quizzing about raising cattle (his family's in the business, and we were passing lots of cattle farms).
He said something to the effect of "Cows are basically liked stoned humans. They're dumb and easily freaked out. They spot you a field away and think 'HOLY FUCK. SHIT. FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCK. WHAT DO I DO?!?!' and then they walk away non-chalantly."
I found this comparison wholly amusing.
* * *
Once home, I turned my attention to the grocery store. I was after some asparagus after that lovely photo, but alas, the store had none.
I settled for broccolini, which failed to pass muster, partly, sure, because it was the vegetable after which I was not.
Oh, well. At least my pee won't smell weird tomorrow. (Well, not asparagus-weird.)
posted by Stanley at 20:16
6 Comments:
You mean that bakery chain Panera? Who is even advocating for their not sucking? I'm surprised the matter is even open for dispute.
The Eagles OTOH rock. Sorry you guys came so close to being smashed up, glad you made it through ok. Thanks, Boobers!)
(Hey wanna know what's some great guitar music? Sol Ho'opi'i, is what. A friend sent me some of his tunes a little while ago and now they are just jangling around in my head. Also he's got a nice number of apostrophes^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hokinas in his name.)
Last time I was in Lexington, I had this bourbon barrel ale that was truly to die for. And apparently is not to be found outside of Lexington.
Who is even advocating for their not sucking? I'm surprised the matter is even open for dispute.
Three of four members of the band. I was shocked.
The Eagles OTOH rock
Yeah, I was trying (and failing) to summon the Big Lebowski line: "I had a rough night and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!"
Sol Ho'opi'i
Hm, interesting. I'll look into that after work.
Tom, that story cracked me up, and eekbeat thinks she may have been at the very same concert. Unless this feller breaks out the vibraslap for every concert. If so, I call shenanigans.
bourbon barrel ale
Dood, that sounds good. At the hotel I was leafing through some travel guide with a multi-page ad for some Trail of Bourbon, where you can visit a bunch of different distilleries in one afternoon (presumably, with a hired driver? or maybe there's a bus to ferry you hither and thither).
I was seriously lamenting the fact that we didn't have more time to do that. I did, however, try a Kentucky Ale, which passed muster for a "stage beer".
Looks like they make a bourbon barrel ale, too. Perhaps the same one you had?
Here's a link to Ho'opi'i's I Like You.
Man, now I got the Hawai'ian steel guitar earworm bad. Doo-doo doo, da do-dada doo-doo doo, etc.
Mildly interesting story:
The winemaker I work with? His favorite band is Cake? And not only that, but if (as I did) you ask him "Why is your favorite band Cake, winemaker?" he will spit a carefully prepared and very poetic Cake-fan monologue that is really not all that bad, and kind of makes me like Cake a little more. A lot of it, as I recall, is centered around the fact that in one of their songs is the line And how much did you pay for your rock & roll T-shirt? / That proves your were there / That you heard of them first.
Even more interesting story:
They are playing Cake right now! In the internet cafe! My mind? BLOWN!
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