Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Welcome to the Graveyard

If you thought we'd forgotten about you, tour blog dogs, you were gravely mistaken. We just hadn't been touring that much. . . until now.
But even now, there isn't that much to report. You see, sometimes you trust what people say and those people aren't telling the truth. Or those people get sick and can't do what they said. Or they simply go out of state for the week with their mother.

And so, we've been on tour for nearly a week and only played four shows. But those four shows were just what the doctor ordered.

Peoria, IL, for some reason, has always treated us like kings. Not only did we have an awesome show on a Wednesday night, but we also played with our good friends Centralia Mine Fire. Thursday we were supposed to play in Chicago, but I've already explained how life treats you sometime. Instead, we went to Kurt's parents house where his mom made us more food than we could possibly eat. We swam and got cramps and played catch and shot some hoops and got more cramps.

On Friday, we packed up and said goodbye to Kurt's cute sister who let us sleep under her bed without her knowing it and headed to the Windy City. I have never particularly liked Chicago, especially after our last excursion when some asshole smashed out our window and stole the few cool things we own. I sat in the back and cried the entire way. We went to the opening of Crystal Shop Records and tried to weasel our way into playing. Instead, we all took very comfortable doodoos in the bathroom and met the nice dudes and girl dude in Rabble Rabble. After eating some delicious Hot-N-Ready's, we sped off to the Ottoman Empire where we saw some old friends and made some new ones. Aside from an occasional pest running through the yard or the beer bottle to the head, it was a pretty good time. We stayed for the next couple nights at Janie's in Chicago where we hit on her cute roommate Holly and drank all of their grape juice.

Some of us went to the zoo. Some of us sat on our computers and emailed more people who will never email us back. We watched Dumb and Dumber and ate the most delicious falafels I have ever tasted.

The next stop was Madison, WI. All our windows were still intact, so we checked of our Chicago visit as successful and headed to the home of cheese and Brett Favre. We were very excited to play this show because we'd be sharing the stage with Blame Sally, a wonderful band of women, all 40+, out of San Francisco. On top of that, the venue was charging a meager $15 for two out of town bands. So in order to get more stoked for the show, we went down to a lake where we challenged some dudes and their girlfriends to sand volleyball. Everyone played except Dillon, who was too busy trying to grow a nail back on his thumb. Kurt and Alex's team beat Kyle's and mine 2 games to 1. But that was because they had a really serious player on their team.

We said goodbye and headed back to the arms of Blame Sally, who, according to their motherly instincts, hugged us and warned us not to run with suckers in our mouths. The singer survived not only cancer but also choking on her spit a mere ten minutes before they played. I had to give her mouth to mouth and may have gotten my mom makeout on for just a second.

Blame Sally rocked us so hard that we had to snort a pile of baking soda to calm us down. They finished and seven of the twelve people who had come to see them left. We played an awesome show for the lovely ladies of Blame Sally, two wonderful women, and the sound guy. Dillon grabbed the mic halfway through the set and sang a solo.

We drove through the night to Minneapolis, which turns out to be one of the coolest cities in America. We didn't make it the Mall of America, but we played all day in a park and fiddle farted around Dinky Town. Kurt's friend, Sarah, took us to Mesa Pizza where Stephen would have surely got excited. The show that night was another strange one. Instead of booking bands, the guy booked beat poets and other interesting acts. We played a killer set to The Burned Out Babes From The Dreaded Garbage House who were so in love with our sweaty selves that they asked us to sleep over in a pile of filth and in a cloud of stink.

Tomorrow we go to Sioux Falls, SD, where who knows what sort of treasures await us.

What happens on the road stays on TOURBLOG, DOG!


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