So last night I went to see fellow Somerville brothers-in-rock Scamper. And apart from my continuing desire for them to officially change their name to Los Scamperinos y los Commandos del Guapo I was, as always, very happy with the rock.
Then, as I walked to work this morning on the bike path I had my usual five minutes of being accosted by about....oh, I don't know....a million dogs? Ok, maybe accosted is too strong a word, all they really wanted was to jog on up, get a good sniff of the anal/genital region and, satisfied, be on their way. Dogs are funny that way. I mean, if my measure of approval was snffing butts I'm pretty sure all my friends would be hitting the bricks.
Until I jot down more of this fascinating stuff....
Now, being a big fatty fat out of shape rocker dude who drinks too much and is emotionally repressed with many anger and personality issues is fine and all, but suprisingly doesn't help too much in the ongoing Somerville Rock House Wiffle Ball League season. The boys and I have been hitting the field every day now after our mind-numbingly stupid and un-wiffle ball like day jobs and I gotta tell ya, I'm hurting. You wouldn't think that swinging a three ounce piece of plastic could reduce me to such a state, but last night all I could do with myself was lie in the tub and think about drinking. Tough set. Ah well....
I am finally almost awake after our Thursday night rocking of NYC and subsequent drive home. We got in at 5:30 in the the AM and still dutifully reported to work at 9. The things we'll do for the rock....
Anywho, New York was a great time. The highlights?...
-There's no smoking in bars anymore, so instead of choking and gagging on second hand smoke you get to choke and gag on hipster's B.O.
-There's still drinking.
-My guitar strap fell off three times, causing me to spend at least half the show on the floor trying to fix it. Luckily, there was still drinking.
-We got to drive for five hours in the middle of the night over deserted highways with nothing to keep us awake but diet coke and each other's company. Oh, no wait a minute, that sucked. Ah well.
Seriously, it was a very good time and mucho props to all who made it out or even made out in our name. (Ed. note - No idea what that means...)
So, it was a rock and roll time had by all when Fooled By April took over the airwaves of WQRI, 88.3 on your radio dial, for a couple hours last night. We had the kids of Roger Williams University rolling in their dorm rooms with infantile jokes about farts, kidnappings and Pete's prowess as a combination human and playable CD (Ed Note - don't ask, it actually was just as stupid as it sounds).
Anyway, it really was a great time. We played some tunes, told some jokes and got free T-shirts for the effort. Not a bad deal, if I do say so myself. Special thanks to Nathan for his expert research as well as his skills on the board and also to Doug for hooking the whole thing up.
Bad jokes about the up-up-down (ask Brendan) and a few technical difficulties aside, our first ever acoustic show was a pretty smashing success. Thanks to everyone for coming out and making it such a cool night.
Extra special thanks to Mull Historical Society who, besides being really really good, are also from Scotland. Now, people, have you ever talked to an actual Scottish person before? It leaves you with two impressions: 1) they could be speaking a language entirely different from English for the number of words you can pick out, and 2) Scottish dudes with Scottish accents don't have to be understood to have lots of women drool all over them, which is annoying. I've often tried to use my Boston accent to sway the women, but even when I break out the classics like "retahd" and "whikked" I end up alone. What gives?
This morning I made a pit stop at McDonald's for a little Sausage McMuffin sweetness. MMMMMM. Anywho, after I ordered the woman behind the counter reminded me that it's Good Friday and would I like something else. I said I'd still take the sweet sweet sausage and she looked at me like I personally had ordered the crucifixtion which, in fact, I didn't.
Now I'm not particularly religious, but if Jesus is indeed looking at me over some cloud then I feel like he's probably keeping score of things that are a little more important than if I eat meat on a Friday. I mean, Hitler was a vegetarian but something tells me he's not in the Almighty's good graces.
Main thrust of this entry? Sausage good, Hitler bad. (Ed. Note - Joe just finished a 900 page biography of Hitler and now wants to show how smart he thinks he is)
Everyone has been asking me what the surprise I mentioned a few days ago is going to be. And when they ask I say "You'll see. If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" And yes, I say it in exactly the condescending tone of voice the quote implies because, well, hey, I'm a dick.
Anyway, after days of these questions I was feeling very smug until Sarah said "Is the surprise that your show on Monday is an acoustic show? Because if it is, then it's been advertised on the front page of the website for a week." So, after I denied that that was the surprise for a few minutes I realized I had no other plausible lie to cover up my stupidity. The acoustic show is the surprise even though it's no surprise to anyone at all. Boo.
The lesson? If you're an idiot then you should read your own website.
The day you've been waiting for has finally arrived. That's right, the annual 26 Warwick (or 26-Dub as we call it) Wiffleball Season opener was played yesterday afternoon. After almost an hour of fiercely lethargic (even slothful) play, Brendan walked away with the victory. And since it's true that to the victors go the spoils, as he was pulling out of the driveway I pelted his car with three week old turkey cold cuts. Anywho, if you wanna play just come on by. We'll be out there until the end of the summer, or until it snows again, whichever comes first. And believe me when I say that there's plenty of rotten food for everyone...
After that the band headed to the basement, where we've been cooking up a little bit of a surprise. More on that in a few days.....
This has to be the finest station that God, or his equivalent basic cable programmer, has ever put on the air. Yesterday I watched it for about five hours, during which there was...
1) An hour of 70's live performances, featuring the inimitable REO Speedwagon, Yes, The Doobie Brothers etc. Super Kick Ass.
2) An hour of 80's pop, featuring the actually pretty imitable Escape Club, Howard Jones, Cyndi Lauper and some band called Talk Talk, who quite frankly Suck Suck. Wicked Kick Ass.
3) An hour of 60's archival footage featuring The Turtles, The Strawberry Alarm Clock, Del Shannon, The Righteous Brothers and The Beach Boys. Very Kick Ass.
4) Two full hours of Heavy Metal Memories. I was in heaven as they played Ratt, Warrant, poison, Slaughter, Faster Pussycat, Autograph!!!!!, Def Leppard and even a band called the Wyld Boyz, who I think eventually changed their name to "The Unlikely to Win A Spelling Bee Homoerotic Spandex Clad Codpiece Heroes". Um...You know how Kick Ass that was.
And what did I learn in these five wasted hours? I think I can boil it down to the three things - Due to my insatiable appetite for this crap I will most likely die in front of the television, nobody is or has been better than the Beatles and British people, especially British people form the 60's have some nasty ass teeth.
Everybody right now stop what you're doing, unless what you're doing is actually paying attention to my rambling inchoherent diatribes in this diary. In that case keep paying attention. Listen, you should all head over to our new and very sexy MP3.com page www.4sensualdudeswho lovetheladies.com (Ed. Note - not the real url, just click on the link) and listen to our songs through the power of the information superhighway. I'll tell you one thing, I'm sure Al Gore was not planning on this much rock when he invented it.
The snow still falls here in Beantown on this, April-frigging-9th. That would be depressing, except that I have a funny story. This story revolves around this stodgy old businessman who was just outright scowling at me on the T today. I mean, he was really tearing into me with his cold and calculating little black beady businessman eyes. Now, at first I thought it was because my very lax personal hygeine habits make me look like what my Dickensian friends call a "ruffian scumbag." But this was in fact not the reason as I slowly discovered. You see, this dude had dropped a BOMB, like an "eight alarm three bean chili and taco fest" bomb, and in his shame was trying to pull the old "oingo boingo" to make people think it was me. But I'm sorry folks, as you well know the one who denied it supplied it and I stared right back at him until at last he looked away. I felt sort of sad when he got off the train, partly out of pity but mostly because I could never tell his cubicle mates that Chemical Ali's short, Irish counterpart was headed into the office. Oh well
Last night I watched The Ring again and god damn it is that movie freaky. I mean, Lil' Kim watches that movie and goes "Damn, that ring is deaky!" (Ed. Note - none of us really knows what that means).
Anyway, after the movie boys and I decided yesterday to star in a new reality show called American Idle where we'll compete to see who can be the most sedentary. Brendan claims to have it all wrapped up, but he hasn't seen what the full force of my alcoholism, Dorito fanaticism and ability to watch endless hours of Real World re-runs is truly capable of.
Well, that's the best I can do today. They can't all be winners, folks....
Ah.....back at work. There really isn't anything quite as fun on a Monday morning as the smell of manila envelopes and the bitching of CFO's who want that report now, dammit! Oh well.
Anywho, let's not dwell on that for this, my friends, was a rock and roll weekend. Many thanks to everyone who came to the Middle East on Saturday to make it our first sold out night there, I mean, we technically sell out every night by playing music we detest but feel has commercial value, however this was the first time at the ME when ticket sales matched our lack of artistic conviction and ethics. Regarless, it was a great night and honor to play with seriously great bands like Helicopter Helicopter, Francine and the incomparable Shelley Winters Project.
My throat is still sore and infected today. Flu season has effectively "kicked my ass" and made me its be-atch. I will do its will without question now....
Hey rock people, or "rockfolk" as we call you where I'm from (Ed. Note - Joe is from Southern Massachusetts). How are ya? Here in the sweltering world of Fooled By April things are starting to cook again. The spring is upon us, the flowers are blooming and Pete is starting to wear fewer items of clothing. Add to that the fact that we have a bazillion shows coming up and everything is rosy.
The only downside is that the gods of winter-borne sinus and throat infection have been lax in releasing me from their grip. I'm like "C'mon dude, I've been sick enough already. I want to sing!" But the ear infection god is like "Bitch, don't even try. How's that left ear feel?" And I'm like "It's fine, you know that. The right ear is the one that....OW! Oh, that's dirty, you filthy piece of..." "What did you say? You wanna go for three?!?" You get the idea (Ed. Note - apparently the idea is that illnesses are like abusive high school gym teachers? Joe's been on a lot of prescriptions) Anyway, don't even get me started on the throat infection god. He and I have a history that the devil and Jesus himself look at and go "Damn, those fellas don't get along, now do they?"