| Second installment of the Genghis Tron tour journal. Check back on Monday for the final chapter... |
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| Georgia is a hater 7/9/05 @ 4:28am Everyone else in the motel room is asleep right now, so I've got to type verrrry quietly. So yeah, we drove through some abominable rain on Thursday evening and almost got blasted straight to heaven. Earlier, an 18-wheeler’s tire flew off and slammed into our trailer, totally tearing off the fender that covers the right tire. We fixed it up with duct tape and kept on driving. What should have been an 8 or 9 hour drive turned into 13 due to this horrendous storm, but somehow we made it to Hamilton's house in 4 pieces. As always, his parents were amazing and beyond hospitable while Atlanta itself kind of hated on us. The show was at a pretty cool venue but there was no one there. We were bummed--especially because it was Jake's last night and it would have been hott if there were really embarrassing superfans there who would ask us to sign shit and maybe buy our busted-ass fender for like $50. Afterwards Michael, Jake, and myself got way steamy in the hot tub. |
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| Today we had some crazy grit-filled breakfast, dropped Jake off at the airport, and took off for Savannah with Rohan the new roadie in tow. The venue gave us money for food which was way awesome and unprecedented plus unlimited PBR. I was like, "Savannah is awesome!" and God was like, "Wait until later tonight, dick." As usual, G-man was right. The show fucking sucked. The crowd totally 'didn't get it.' There was a 6"6 skinhead with a fucking iron cross tattooed on his skull plus some other totally lame biker dudes. It was a tough crowd (in the macho sense) and we're not a tough band. Polite applause abounded as much as polite applause can abound. I was in a foul mood until I showered. Florida starts tomorrow. I'm ready to fight Hurricane Dennis like Achilles fucked up that river. Pray for us. |
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| We've got slut fever! 7/11/05 @ 2:11pm The highlight of the past two days was definitely crazy drunk woman #2 from Orlando. This deranged little number had short bleached blonde hair, a swirly blue dress, and plenty of interesting things to say about Jewish people and my ass. Here are some of her greatest hits: Her: “JEW BOY!” Me: “Um, what?” Her: “JEWWW BOY!” Proceeds to give me a high-five. “You’ve got a nice ass” exclaimed between songs while we were playing. “Jewish girls all have holes in their underwear!” “I’ve got SLUT FEVER!” High fives Rohan, our merch dude. In addition to slut fever, the Orlando show was really good. We sold a ton of merch, played with our friends in Yip-Yip, and got some quality bro-down time with ANH. The headlining band was a horrendous Orlando-fave called Gargamel. The lead singer, appropriately named Man-daddy, was your typical nu-metal meathead (retarded goatee, bald head, lots of stupid pig squealing vocals). Apparently they’ve been around for 10+ years. This bummed me out. Check out their website here and feel my pain [LINK: www.gargamel.net]. Last night’s show in Sarasota was ridiculous in very bad and very good ways. The bad consisted of the ‘promoter’ not really being the promoter and not getting us our guarantee or letting in anybody under 18. The show itself was pretty awesome. Several kids were screaming along to a good chunk of the songs and we sold a lot of stuff. Right now we’re at Pat Shields' house in Tampa. You don’t know hospitality until you’ve stayed with Pat. |
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Miles of jiggles 7/16/05 @ 12:35am We’re currently driving down a pretty astounding bayou highway, flanked on either side by a soggy landscape of drooping canopies and splintered treestumps. Of course like the effete yankee that I am, I’m too busy ‘blogging’ to take it all in. Feeling like a carpet-bagging nancy boy has been the theme of the day thus far. While eating in a particularly hicked-out Waffle House in Picayune, Mississippi, I managed to deeply offend our waitress by asking for our coffee ‘when she had the chance.’ She had already served us our food but we had nothing with which to wash down all the butter-drenched grits and noxious eggs. Coffee, to say the least, was a reasonable request. I knew I had made a mistake as soon as the words left my lips. She recoiled from our table, her face scrunched up and she let out a death hiss: “WHEN I GET THE CHANCE?!?!?” She scurried away from our table like a miserable little waffle rat, leaving us to ponder the terrible burden I had placed on her shoulders. I didn’t look up from my plate for a good 5 minutes. I was afraid I was going to get lynched or “run oft” (as Hamilton alerted me, “run oft” is the polite, Southern term for running a person—usually of a northern/Jewish/Mexican persuasion--out of town). Later on in our breakfast, we heard another waitress loudly condemn non-English speakers as “Ig’nant.” She went on to exclaim that “I understand it’s a part of their culture—they can talk it with their friends and at home, but when you come in here—‘specially with what’s goin’ on these days--you speak English!” Hamilton proceeded to holler mundane Spanish phrases (i.e. “¿COMO ESTAS?” And “¡HOLA!”) in hopes of further inciting the Waffle House staff to run us oft. We paid our bill and left Picayune before a waffle war could be waged upon Genghis Tron. Despite all the hicksanity that took place this morning, Hattiesburg, MS was by far the best show of the tour. There were probably around 100 people there to see us, and they were HUNGRY for it. So hungry in fact that they made us play a song twice due to our lack of any more material for an encore. We sold a lot of shirts, not many CDs (a common theme on this tour), and had many an ecstatic handshake after the show. On the opposite end of the show spectrum was the previous night’s performance in Metarie, LA. Holy fuck...what a shit- hole. I’m getting pissy just writing about it. The venue had a subtle bouquet of stale piss and beer shit, there wasn’t enough electricity for us to plug all our equipment in, and—surprise!—there were like seven people there. The highlight of the evening was the horrendous metalcore band that played before us. The kids looked to be around 15 and their baby beluga drummer was truly a fatty to behold. Now I’m no fattist, but when you take your shirt off to reveal miles of pubescent man-breasts and jiggleosity, you’re asking to be written up in some yank’s blog. Austin 7/17/05 @ 3:16pm We’re currently driving through the Texas wilderness. There is absolutely NOTHING on either side of us except shrubs and more shrubs. Austin was pretty nice. We stayed with Rohan’s uncle, quite possibly the most hospitable man in the history of Tex-Mex and Krispy Kreme. Last night’s show was disappointing. The Michael Moore lookin’ sound guy was an asshole. We played with Mark D (ex- Melvins) and Gorch Fock, the latter of whom was pretty good…the former was masturbatory and disappointing for having been in such an awesome band. Three kids drove all the way from San Antonio to see us, which was amazing. However, we had plenty of technical difficulties and sound problems so I felt bad that they saw such a shitty show. Tonight is Odessa, TX—the town where Friday Night Lights took place. I’m looking forward to tossing around the ol’ pigskin and shouting plenty of racial epithets. |
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| TOTAL CARNAGE IN THE FINAL VOLUME!!! SEE YOU MONDAY! |
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| TV PARTY! |
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