So this was it people, the moment we were all waiting for. The big dance.
We spent the day Saturday just getting mentally and physically prepared for the show which generally means making damn sure your mind, body and especially stomach are on the same page. No one likes a stage farter which, ironically, is why no one likes me. Oh well.
Anyway, after some fiber and beano we rolled up to the show and got ready. The place was packed. I mean, "so many people you can’t breathe" packed. This was a pretty fantastic sight, especially after the more sparsely attended shows we had played on tour. But those shows proved to have been useful, for on this night we were ready to rock. And rock we did, playing one of the best shows we’ve ever played in front of some of the most important people we’ve ever played for. It was, as my friend Sully might say, wikked awsum.
After the show we partied the way Andrew W.K. wanted us to, hard. We had a blast with our NYC friends and didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. It was by far the best night on tour, and was a fantastic way to close out two and a half weeks of work.
In the van on the way home everyone was quiet, getting ready to return to menial jobs and normal life. We were all sad until Pete started singing along to Tiny Dancer and one by one we all joined in until the whole bus was one singing family....er...oh wait, that wasn't us. We were all sad until we stopped and ate some McDonald's, had a big hug and patted each other on the back, promising to get back on the road ASAP.
So I guess that’s it, people. Thanks to everyone who has read this diary, everyone who helped me remember stories from tour, and of course a huge thanks to everyone who came and saw us, let us stay with them, or gave us food. We love you all and will see you soon.....ON THE ROAD!
So, after our triumphant ass-kicking D.C. show it was time for it all to get sexy. Yes, people, it was time for all the hard work of tour to pay off, it was the top of the proverbial roller coaster, it was everything you could imagine and more....it was time for CMJ.
Seriously, we were very excited to get to New York to strut our stuff for record labels, distributors, lawyers, managers and thousands and thousands of wanna-be stars. Folks, our schmooze meters were set on code red and we knew it was now or never (ok, it wasn’t that tense, but it sounds cooler that way). Here are a couple highlights of the first few days:
-On Halloween the band returned to Siberia, the bar we had played the second night of tour, to support our friends in rock Uptown Sinclair (featuring sex machine Bill Watterson). The bar remembered FXA and for some reason gave us lots of free drinks. I subsequently had one of those experiences where you feel really great one minute and then, a split second later, you absolutely know you’re going to be sick. So I went up to the street and sat on the filthy pavement in front a giant pile of the bar’s garbage where, yes indeed, I became ill. Then the bouncer came out in an obviously foul mood and I panicked because I knew he was going to yell at me for throwing up in front of the club....that is, until he apologized to me and began violently throwing up in the trash right next to me. Ah, rock and roll.
-Jordan and I ate Mexican food from a Chinese restaurant. If you think that sounds like a bad idea, well, you’re right. Pow, it was terrible.
-We picked up the new cd and had a big round of high fives and hugs in the car. Pete even shed a tear, which in turn caused us all to shed tears, which all flowed together and for a second, just one second, glowed like a magical star.
-Gordon attended more events and panels than I would have considered humanly possible. He didn’t get us a record deal, but he hooked himself up with a three album contract through Dreamworks as a solo artist called Romeo Blue.
-Good band friend Matt came down to see the show and he and I watched a documentary about people who live in the New York Subway. We decided not to become like those people.
Other than that, we partied a lot and got ready for the big show, which will be described in all its gory detail tomorrow. Until then, try not to throw up on the street or eat Chinexican food....
Tomorrow - Last tour diary entry - big CMJ showcase!!!
Well kiddies, we were feeling groggy after having been separated from the rock and roll by our day off and were anxious to get our collective groove back on like Donkey Kong. So we loaded up the van, said tearful good-byes to our tourmates Dakota Floyd and headed for Sniperville...er, I mean Arlington. Oops!
The drive was a bit arduous as it was raining again and we waged yet another battle with imminent and grisly death, but we persevered and rolled into town full of our characteristic rock and roll spirit, which some might even call spunk.
The club itself was one we’ve played before, an intimate (i.e small) room full of enthusiastic FXA fans and guys drunk on cheap Yuengling’s beer. We played well, which is difficult in a small place because you’re always teetering on the line of, on one hand, being too loud and driving people away and on the other hand not being dynamic enough to hold people’s interest. I think we walked the line pretty well on this night however, and we unloaded a bunch of our spiffy new cds as proof.
Later we got a hotel room. Gordon and I drank beer and watched TV, while Pete and Jordan played scrabble or something. We DEFINE rock and roll, baby.
Next Week - CMJ!!!!(Where the real funny stuff happens)
Ok people, when you’re on the road in a moderately hard rocking outfit like Fooled By April you get tired. Tired of the bad food, the incessant driving, the physical exertion of doings shows every night, the constant crush of fans willing to do anything just to get close to you so they can eventually get close to Pete....you can imagine. Anyway, it does get stressful and you need a day off. Here’s what we did with ours:
-Pietro spent some quality time he described only as "wikked awesome" with his compatriot and Fooled By April super fan Stephanie. A big shout out goes to Stephanie, who came to a lot of shows and generally was a bright spot in the dark Ohio autumn.
-Jordan "the fantastic pirate" Siegel spent some time, also described as "wikked awesome" with Ohio’s other superfan and all around good friend Mandy. Mandy also came to a bunch of shows and always amazed us with her ability to drink milk through her nose while singing the theme song to Cheers (not true).
-Gordon spent much of his day preparing to feed the entire house THE BEST MEAL EVER CONSUMED BY HUMANS. I mean, he pulled out all the stops. I’m getting hungry just thinking about it now. I'll tell ya, although his heart may be pure rock and roll, his soul is 100% Molto Mario.
-Without women to distract me or food to prepare, I sat on my ass and read a book while challenging Anhueser Busch’s assertion that Bud Light may impair your ability to do certain things. I also watched a lot of Real World reruns. Can you believe that Stephen? I mean, where does he get off? Damn.
So folks, that’s it. That’s what we do when we have nothing to do. But lest ye think it was wasted time, let me assure you that days like this are very important. They really recharge the batteries and get us ready for things like.....
Tomorrow - Washington, D.C. (or, more accurately, one of its Virginia suburbs)
Alright people. It was a Sat-ur-day in O-hi-o and you know what that means. Oh, you don’t? It means it was time to par-tay, time to boogie, time to get down and auuggghhh yeah! And what better place to badly paraphrase disco than Youngstown, Ohio?
Youngstown. Where do I start? Well, first of all, Youngstown is a bit of a misnomer. Everyone I saw should have been living in Oldstown, driving an oldsmobile and wearing g-old chains. Seriously, one guy asked me if I played in the Glenn Miller Orchestra. I said yes. Second oboe, sir.
Fortunately, the club was a bit of a sanctuary from all this, with some younger, hip Ohians and some cheap ass beer. In addition to the beer there was also some seriously good hamburgers as well as a drunk guy who bought Gordon and I a Middle Eastern plate full of homemade goodness. After approximately 7,864 trips to McDonald’s a little fresh, well-cooked food really raised the spirits.
With our bellies full and heads held high, we brought absolute devastation down on the people of Youngstown. Gordon’s pipes shrieked like a banshee doomed to a life of rock supremacy, Pete’s bass shook the floor like a demon from the part of hell where they torture people by shaking the floor, Jordan’s drums echoed like the beat of my lovelorn adrenaline filled heart and I played shockingly adequate guitar licks like someone who took a year of lessons, then put the instrument down for a while, and then started playing again, but not that seriously. we rocked so hard that after the show, the city elders decided to change the name of the town to We’vebeenrockedbyfooledbyaprilville. No joke, look at a map.
After the show, FXA and Dakota Floyd all retired to Bill’s lake house, where we drank beers and remembered how it used to be when our art wasn’t polluted by all this money and fame. Ooops! Actually we just drank beer, although I did do a command repeat performance of getting in my skivvies and dunking myself in Lake Erie. Loyal readers will note that this was my second cold-water excursion of the trip, and was in fact even more brutal on my delicate genitals. And so I would like to take this chance to apologize to the future children I will not be able to have. Sorry kids, daddy loves you.
Well hello there people. When I left you last, the tired group of rock and rollers named Fooled By April were nestled snuggly in their beds at Bill Waterson’s beautiful house on Lake Erie. And just to clear up any confusion, I stated yesterday that Jordan and Pete were cuddling with each other again, when in reality Pete was actually cuddling with Gordon and I was the one cuddling with Jordan. He’s very cute, you know.
Anyway, on this day we got ass bored and needed something to do. We all decided that the movies was the place to be because honestly people, when isn’t it? So we trudged through Cleveland down to the local mall, which I think was called "The Greater Cleveland Crappiest Crap Ass Mall Ever Mall." I mean, Paramus, NJ, called us while we there and was like, "damn, are we glad that place ain’t here." Unsurprisingly, the movie pickings were a little slim, and so we just walked around the mall looking at stupid crap that was already on display for Christmas.
Highlight of the day: This guy comes up to us in the mall and gives us all stuffed animals. Actually, he throws us all stuffed animals as we’re walking. We all say thanks and keep going, wondering why this guy threw stuffed animals at us but certainly not looking the stuffed animal gift horse in the mouth, if you know what I’m saying. Anyway, a minute later we all hear this yelling behind us telling us to stop. It’s the stuffed animal guy:
SAG: Where are you going!
SAG: You can’t just take the stuffed animals!
Us: You just gave them to us...
SAG: No, I didn’t!
Us: Wait, you threw them at us while we were walking. We didn’t ask you for them.
SAG: Well, they’re five dollars apiece.
Us: We’re not giving you five dollars! We don’t even want these pieces of crap!
SAG: (begrudgingly taken the animals back) If you didn’t want them you shouldn’t have taken them
Us: You need a better sales tactic, pal.
SAG: Screw you, I’m getting an Orange Julius.
Ok, ok, I made the Orange Julius part up, and we didn’t all talk in perfect unison, but it was still pretty stupid.
As for the show, it was pretty empty, very very loud, and actually quite good. We were getting excited because the week on the road was starting to pay dividends in terms of performance. I mean, Pete Galea practically radiated a sexual glow of glorious manhood on this night and that, people, is nothing to shake a stick at.
Well, folks, it was day eight and we were safely ensconced in Ohio once again, which was fine with us. I mean, to paraphrase Mike Doughty, aren’t we all, in our own way, going to Ohio?
Anywho, Cleveland is always good to us and we try to be good right back. We started our night off at the Wilco show at the Agora Theater. We figured it would be a good idea to go there first and give out stickers and flyers for our show, thus attracting thousands of folks over to our post-Wilco shenanigans. This type of promotion usually makes me a little uncomfortable, but it was much easier in Ohio than in Boston or New York. In Ohio when someone doesn’t want something, they say “no thanks,” or “sorry.” In Boston, on the other hand, people who really don’t want a handout offer to put it deep in very uncomfortable parts of your body for you. I choo-choo-choose Ohio.
So after the handout session, we roll up to the Beachland Ballroom, which is undoubtedly one of our favorite clubs. There are friendly people, cheap beer and you never know who you’ll run into. On this night, we were playing after folk singer John Wesley Harding, who I actually used to be really into in high school. Unfortunately, high school was a long time ago. Oh well. It was still a fun little show complete with lyrics like “Goth girl, what are you wearing today? Oh, black again….” That’s a good one Johnny, that’s a good one.
As for the Fooled By April rock kids, we took the rock, mixed it with some roll and brought the house down. There’s just something in the water in Cleveland I guess, because things always go well for us there. Not as well as for Dakota Floyd, but we’re just humans people. Rock.
After the show it was off to the lakehouse for us, where we got some well deserved rest and some much needed cuddling (Pete and Jordan again!).
Columbus, Ohio has always been a bit of a mystery to us. The club we play there sits literally twenty feet from the campus of one of the largest universities in America, but we never play for anyone besides the crazy locals and the random frat guy. What is a sensitive guy power-pop band to do? Ah well.
The funniest story of this night comes to us from Dakota Floyd, who at this point were still brave enough souls to continue to be on the road with us. You think Sleater-Kinney could have done it? Modest Mouse? Aerosmith? I think not. Dakota has a rock and roll engine, people, and a rock and roll heart to match. Anywho, while Dakota is rocking the house we all notice this crazy old drunk guy in the bar. I mean, there’s lots of old crazy drunk guys in the bar but we’ve seen this one before. And then it hits me, it’s the Batman guy!!! Now, folks, this is not just a clever moniker, this guy gets plastered and comes up to bands while they’re playing and requests, nay, demands the theme from Batman. In fact, this conversation actually took place the last time we played there:
Drunk Guy: Do you kn-kn-know BAAAAAtttttMANnnnn?
Bill (Dakota Floyd): Maybe later, pal.
Bill: Yeah, I think it’s in D
DG: Yeah! Thasss right!!! BAAAAAAATTTTTMMMMAAANNNN!!!! duh-duh duh-duh duh-duh duh-duh BAAAATTTTMAAAAN!!!
Whoah. Anyway, this time the same thing happens except Dakota has actually taken the time to learn the theme from Batman and invites this guy up to sing. I swear to god that this was the best moment of this guy’s life since whatever horrible tragedy befell him to send him into the terrifying alcoholic downward spiral he currently resides in.
As for our set, it was hindered a bit by Jordan getting an insanely painful case of indigestion that left him basically unable to stand or do anything but vomit. I don’t know how he pulled it together for the show, but he won the Gold Medal Trooper Award for the night (Ed. Note -- not a real award). I guess he must have channeled the pain into rock, because we left those Ohians (sp?) dazed and drooling in our rock wake.
Interestingly enough, tonight also marked the first time on tour I was threatened with physical violence, this time by an OSU kid who didn’t like (I am not making this up) the way I looked at his french fries as I walked by him to go and get Jordan some antacid. Those kooky college kids!
People, the very definition of a rock and roll tour is that the band needs to come perilously close to dying at least once or twice. Well, folks, today was our day.
We struck out for Chicago (fittingly, my kind of town) pretty early after enduring Pete's nearly half hour, tear filled goodbye with Julie's dog. You know, as Pete says, with a love that strong it's tough to let go. But despite the pain, he promised to write her often at her email account email@example.com.
Anyway, we headed out of Michigan full of rock excitement only to find out that it was raining. Now this wouldn't be a big thing for most people, but for us it was an absolutely huge cup full of suck. The van's wipers work shall we say...um, sporadically? at best? You see, to make them work at all you have to do that washing thing with the windshield wiper fluid where you click the lever and the wiper just goes once. You know that thing? (What the hell do they call that thing?) Anyway, the drive to Chicago was permeated by shouts of "oh crap!," "damn it!," "son of a ..." and various other profanities while Jordan took us through the driving rain, only being able to wipe the windshield once every four or five seconds...manually. I, for my part, kept looking out the windshield and couldn’t see a frigging thing, then I’d see a swerving semi, then a sheet of water, then a speeding sedan, sheet of water etc. Always being calm, I took this opportunity to sit in the back, grip the door handle and regret all the things I never did in my life while I patiently waited for the sweet embrace of the crypt. The good thing about me in the band is that I never overreact.
But we made it people! Yay! And of course, once we hit town the rain stopped cold. Such is life.
On to the show. It was a pretty good show, with everyone starting to get in a good solid groove after a week on the road. We were just really starting to hit our stride with four songs left in the set when the sound guy comes up and yells "one more song." What? Now, people, this is some bulls*&t I do not like dealing with on tour, but unfortunately it happens all the time. One person tells you one thing about a set time and then another person completely contradicts the first person by interrupting you when you’re on stage and cutting you off. Be warned, folks, there are a lot of people on weird little power trips in the bars and taverns of this great land. But we don't play that game, being the rock and roll rebels we are. We chose to play a medley for our last song and thus managed to play two songs for the price of one. Look out, Mr. Keith Richards, this is the real rock spirit!
To calm my still rattled nerves after the show I got a little silly on the drink with Dakota Floyd and played pinball. I am not good at pinball. Like, really not good. At pinball.
People, there’s only one way to follow up the filthy time we had in Toledo, and I think you know what it is. That’s right, a trip to the Ann Arbor suburb of Ypsilanti, Michigan!
We rolled into town early to get a little hospitality from Julie, our hometown compadre of old. We have to give some serious credit to Julie, her mom and her sweet puppy who’s name currently eludes me. You see, after even a few days of forced confinement with a group of guys in a van things can get a little rough around the edges. You’ve been listening to their snores, hearing their inane theories of life, smelling their farts and generally longing for anything resembling the comfort of mom. Well, folks, Julie came through in a huge way, cooking us the first substantive dinner we’d had in a week, letting us sleep in beds(!) and giving us the run of her house so that we could all retreat to separate corners to regain our sanity.
After a couple hours of taking it easy, Gordon and I headed for Ann Arbor while Pete and Jordan cuddled in the basement (ok, ok, while Jordan and Pete took naps in the basement. It’s much better the other way though). We checked out the U. Michigan campus and marveled at how everyone we met was an expert on the sniper attacks that were at that time still going on in D.C. Guitar store clerk "Well, with the kind of ammunition they’re using, I can tell that they must be shooting from 150 yards or so. Hell, I could do that!" You must be very proud, sir. McDonald’s employee, maybe forty-three "All they need to do is assemble a SWAT team of elite troops and those assholes would be dead in two days." Apparently however, he didn’t have the CIA clearance to approve this plan because he was still pouring shakes when I left. Oh well, enough pet peeves, on to the show!!!
Ah, the show. Well, it was ok I guess. We really tried to achieve the goal of becoming a precise machine of a band on this tour, with all vocals blended, all rhythms tight and all t-shirts trendy. This is hard to do when you sometimes have to play in small bars with not very good sound systems and very little support in the way of fans. Props again go out to Julie for bringing her friends to the show, but it was still a little spare in there. We did our best and I think we rocked out pretty well. However, I think we all agree it wasn’t the best show we ever played. Highlight of the night - after the show, some guy came up to me to tell me he loved my guitar playing because it was full of heart, as he said "all sloppy and out of tune like Jimmy Page." Uh, thanks....
Whoo- hoo! Just back from the long weekend and am I ready to resume this tour diary!!! So, here you go....
Day IV: Sunday, October 20 - Toledo, OH
Now, those of you who are familiar with this band know that Toledo is one severely crazy ass rock and roll city. Every time we go there it invariably becomes the most insane night of tour. This was to be no exception. Get ready, people, this really is some Krazy with a capital K stuff you’re about to read!
So, the nights starts with us getting to the club and being told that we’re more cancelled than the Golden Girls and Perfect Strangers put together. And to make matters worse, it was freezing cold and we had nowhere to go. Luckily, someone suggested we check into the Ramada and hit the Toledo night life, and people, that’s just what we did.
Now, I don’t know how many of you have hung out in Toledo on a Sunday night, but there isn’t exactly "a lot" to do. We ended up going to some crappy sports bar and ate lots bad food while watching the World Series. After a couple hours, full of wings and beer and plenty cranky, we started walking back to the sweet sweet Ramada. Now here’s where it gets good, people. I knew everyone was in a sour mood, so I put on my best Bad News Bears Motivator voice and insisted we hit the hotel bar to make some of our own rock and roll action. And that’s just what we did.
The Ramada Skyview Bar (Floor 19! Ed. note - You see, it's important to be up high so you can really see the devastation decades of economic freefall have had on the downtown area) was completely empty. We were greeted very warmly by Steve the bartender, who was working the coveted 11PM to 3PM shift (for you math nerds, that’s 16 big hours. I’ve had relationships that were shorter). Anyway, many drinks were had, we crashed the swimming pool (so cold my testicles physically climbed back into my body and have yet to be found), played the jukebox and had an overall eh? time. As I said before, INSANE!!!
Ok, ok. So it wasn’t that crazy, but what do you want from us? Did you really think this story would be full of crystal meth and showgirls? Or were you expecting some story about a mysterious Russian dissident, a genius with a shadowy past who speaks five languages and ends up romancing the whole band? I’m sorry folks, you know, sometimes you can be a little too demanding. Wait, I mean that constructively. I really do. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m really not. Oh god, don’t cry. Come here...give me a hug... Better now? Ok, see you tomorrow.
People, when you think of rock and roll excess, debauchery and just plain stupid fun, I know you think of us here in Fooled By April. But I hope, nay, I pray that the second thing that comes to mind is Erie, Pennsylvania. That little city by the lake is just something else. Let me tell you about the great big time we had there.
So... we drove to Erie from NYC and people, I don’t know how else to put it, that drive sucked. Hard. It was about an eight hour trek and I’m pretty sure I was not the only hung over puppy in the old Chrysler. The only good thing about the drive was that we decided Jordan should start a side project where he could show off his considerable vocal prowess. It’s going to be called Jourdey, and he’s only going to sing Journey covers. Genius, right? Right. Anyway, after much Advil and some McDonald’s we arrived at THE BIGGEST DIVE IN HISTORY. Seriously, Greg Lougainis looked at this place and was like "damn!" (Ed. note -- thx Pete)
So we loaded in and played a pretty damn fine show, all things considered. It was only after the show that things got crazy. I was approached by this drunk woman who kept saying things and making me repeat them. At one point she hit me with "when I say food, you say yum! Food..." Silence. "Food..." Silence. "Food!..." "Uh, Yum?" "Right!!!!!" Then there was a lot of hand clapping. It was weird as all get out. However, it was not nearly as weird as this crazy dude with a lot of eyeliner and a ridiculous mullet who did two very wacky things. First, he approached Gordon after the show and complimented him not so much on his singing as on his "great tits." I wish that wasn’t a true story. Yikes. Then he tried to entice all of us to his house (which I can only guess is some Dahmer-esque shrine to being cookoo, with many bodies in the freezer, some old pineapples and a few overdue videos) with the promise of a $90 bag of coke. Uh, maybe next time, pal.
And, until next time with all of you....I want to give a special shout out to the Ohio posse and Jordan’s mom, who apparently are the people who read this silly thing.
With one night of tour underneath our proverbial belts we packed up the van and headed for the big apple. The drive down was pretty uneventful if, of course, you discount the fact that Jordan was giving himself a tattoo, Gordon was setting the Guinness Book record for carrot consumption, I was forging papers for the underage Russian runaway spy who we were smuggling to Washington, and Pete was putting amazing amounts of both cocaine and heroin into his body like a latter day Belushi. (Ed. Note – that’s simply not true, although Gordon did eat a lot of carrots)
Anywho, we finally get to the bar, which was a feat in itself considering there was no sign. Literally no sign, just a red light over a black door. We all felt like we were going into some 1920’s speakeasy brothel, granted it was a speakeasy brothel where you get no sweet loving and the bootleg liquor is frigging $5 Budweiser. Ah well.
On to the show. Our partners in rock Dakota Floyd put on another heartfelt, hellaciously soulful maximum r&b display, leaving no one uncertain as to who puts the "Oh!" in Ohio. We were daunted, but did our best and won over a couple of the hipsters, although they pretended not to care, going as far as not even clapping between songs and refusing to look at us when we played. Kids.
The only big downer for us (and slapstick comedy moment of the night) was that of the two microphones, one just shocked the living hell out of you every time you stepped up to it. Seriously, after ten minutes all the hell I had left in my body was decidedly dead hell. Eventually we just changed the names of the songs in anticipation of being shocked. For instance, "Come in, Chicago" became "Come OW! In, dammit! Chi – F#@k" and so on and so forth. It was pretty funny.
Well, it’s time for another tour diary, people, and as always I think we should start things off where they all begin, at the beginning. Shall we?
The "Semi-Annual Autumnal Fooled By April Fall Rock Spectacular Pre-Winter Tour" kicked off in our good old Hamlet of Boston. And let me tell you, people, something was definitely not rotten in Denmark on this night (Ed. Note -- Boo, thumbs down). Of course, I know you’re all going to say that touring by definition means leaving your own city to go pillage exotic far away places, like Ohio, and Michigan even. All in good time folks, all in good time.
This first day of tour started early for me as one Dakota Floyd, a handsome and rocking trio from Cleveland and our frequent touring partners, showed up at my house rather unexpectedly around 4:30AM.
Joe: Hey... what are you guys doing here?
Dakota Floyd: We’re here for the show, silly.
Joe: Why are you here now, though? The show’s not for sixteen hours.
Dakota Floyd: Right... and? Anyway, we’re sorry we’re late. We were supposed to leave at 2:30 PM so that we’d be here by 3:00 in the morning.
Joe: Oh, well in that case I guess it all makes sense. Goodnight then.
Now that, people, is why you just can’t argue with math.
Anyway, after stumbling through the next day at work on account of being... hmm, what is the word?... oh right -- f@$%ing exhausted, we all played one hell of a rock show. Dakota threw down, as if to say "we are invincible warriors of rock, joust with us." We in turn also threw down, accepting their challenge and in the process saying "we accept your challenge, my liege, but only in the spirit of love." It was great to have the old gang back together, weird medieval colloquialisms and all.
After that, we all got pretty drunk and I think I ate a sub or maybe just a regular sandwich. I don’t remember, but I think it was good. Or not. The sandwich, that is. Flavor-wise.
And that was day one, people. But don’t be fooled by the relatively uneventful events of this one night. Rest assured that I’m going to tell you things in the next two weeks that will literally make your head pop off your neck. I mean, literally. That is, in fact, a legally binding medical disclaimer.
We are back from tour and believe you me, it was a crazy time. How crazy? Well, people, the answer to that question is in the proverbial pipe, to be delivered in daily installments starting tomorrow morning! That's right folks, I will again be doing a day by day tour diary, giving you the sights and smells of a working rock band, the agonizing lows, the dizzying highs and of course all the sex drugs and rock and roll you can handle.