Ok, It's True. I'm Lazy.

I know I said I was going to post more often, but once again I have shirked my responsibilities by drinking too much and sleeping it off.  I found a new missing poster yesterday, or the day before, or something like that, but I was too lazy to upload it.  Now I'm just sitting here in a dark bar in Ventura, California waiting to play another gig and probably get drunk again, surrounded by a few SoCal beach bums and a couple drunks.  But wait, aren't I a drunk?  Nope.  You can avoid that label simply by jumping up on stage at some point in the night.  They call me a musician.


So, we took Viva Le Vox to LA and Hollywood today.  Jesus, I hate that city.  We drank a bunch of coffee in Eagle Rock after hanging out in a tiled basement all night, then went out to the music stores and sweated our balls off.  We did, however, get to visit Johnny and Dee Dee Ramones' graves in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.  But, anyway, I'll get back to you guys later.  My free pizza just showed up at the club.  Jealous?

March Tour News - This Time With More Viva Le Vox

Really quick apology time:  I haven't posted anything in a long time, but I have an excuse, as I usually do.  Stress coming from all sides.  And the saga continues...

So, I don't even have any pictures yet for this tour.  That means no stupid shit to make fun of.  I feel like I should keep you loyal readers in the loop, however.  We met up with that group of misfits from South Florida, Viva Le Vox, and are currently just getting started on our ten week tour together.  I won't get into the details, but The Sawyer Family lost a limb somewhere on the road and we're struggling to keep our heads on straight.  This, combined with the fact that we've had a few promoter "misunderstandings" and other general fuck-ups, has made this first week a rough ride.  Sorry California Bay Area fans for our last minute cancellation in Oakland, but we can not control the weather.  The Sierras can be a real bitch, and we were required to return to Reno to procure tire chains, setting us back some much needed cash and invaluable time.  Oh well.  Let's laugh about it now.  Maybe next time Oakland.

We started out in rainy ass Seattle.  Thanks Jen for the pasta, beer, and lodging.  We'll visit you again in the Puget.  Thanks to our Portland friends for coming out on a weekday.  Thanks Mac at the Speakeasy for treating us so well in Eugene, our humble home.  No thanks to the "Catch A Wave" slot machine in the Nugget Casino, Reno, Nevada.  It was really nice to see you, Rebecca, again.  But where were all the clamdiggers in Coos Bay?  I was telling Viva all about them, but there were none in sight.  Now they think I'm a liar.

Well, I promise to post more often with news.  Something's got to give here, and I'll be able to be funny again.  So sorry for the somewhat serious post.  Just had to tell you guys something.    

I Don't Know If I'd Call That Art

All right, this was not from the last tour, but the one before.  Or before that maybe.  Shit, sometime in the past three years, is that okay?  And yes, it's New Orleans.

Huh...No recollection of this.  I was probably off getting buried alive like that guy in "The Serpent and The Rainbow."  You all remember that movie right?  Yeah...I have no recollection of that movie either.  (Goddamn, what is wrong with that blogger guy?)  So this is what happens when you go to a sports bar in a strange neighborhood alone on a Thursday afternoon and start drinking beer.  The hell else am I gonna do?  We're back from tour and I'm thirsty dammit.

Your job: laugh at Zack's package and think about how much fun that old-man-monkey-drunk is having and how much Zack looks like him.  Hey, why is that monkey allowed to have a bottle on the street and I'm not.  How come when I bring a bottle onto the street the cops tackle me and shove nightsticks in my butt?  Huh?

Notes From The Road - February CA Mini-Tour

Where did I leave off here?  Right, we were in Capistrano Beach and Santa Cruz or something.  For you six or seven people still following our progress on this godawful blog, sorry for leaving you in the dark for a while.  Internet is a precious commodity when rolling around in the van and, honestly, a resource not often mentioned in land management and water conservation discussions.  It's running out everybody; just ask Al Gore who invented it.  Isn't that what that movie was about?  No?  Oh, nevermind.

So anyway, we were in Stockton, Fresno, and Redding at the end of the wee baby tour through the broke-ass state of California.  And here are some stories for you told with my signature blend of cynicism, logic, and disgust.  Starting here with some missing posters.

February 8, Stockton, California.  We had just read an article about how Stockton is now considered the "most miserable city in America."  Yes, that's the actual designation now.  It says it when you drive into town.  "Welcome to Stockton: America's Most Miserable City."  No, not really.  We found this missing poster hanging on a pole by Starbucks.  Not thinking too much about it, I snapped this photo for your pleasure (discomfort?) and went along my jolly way.  Then we went down to the hood, battled cockroaches by the car wash, saw the billboard explaining that there have been 48 murders so far this year, and the "most miserable" city in America seemed a bit more plausible all of a sudden.  The next morning, the same Starbucks, the same pole in the same town square by the same shitty corporate movie theater, old Joe Mendoza's missing poster itself went missing, replaced by this one:

Is this a daily occurrence in Stockton?  But yeah, this time, I left the phone numbers visible, because they are Sheriff's Office numbers and I think Stockton needs your help.  Either people are just dropping like flies out there, or there actually are reptilian shapeshifters out there harvesting human organs for their lizard-man sustenance.  I'm going with the latter.  If you see "Joe" or "Eva," let the Sheriff know.

Well, now that my public service portion is taken care of, let's make fun of people.  Starting with the California government.  Come on, guys.  Your main interstate is I-5 and you can't even keep that one nice.  Really screwing up my writing time with your bumpy ass roads.

Yeah, my heart's just not in it right now.  There was downtown LA next to heroin addict tunnel.  There was Stockton, where apparently people disappear and get killed daily.  Then Fresno, which has a bit of an identity crisis.  Then Redding, which was cool.  I know it sounds pretty absurd to say Redding is cool, but you guys really treated us well.  Thanks for the pig meat, beer, and shows.  No thanks to Robin at the gas station who wouldn't sell us cigarettes because we had Oregon IDs.  Boycott USA Gas.  How ironic that a place called USA Gas will only accept local IDs.  Well, Robin, we're from Oregon so you better get your ass out here and pump our gas for us, because we don't accept out of state self serve pumps for our vehicle.  No?  Fine, I'll just spend my money at the Shell down the street where the toothless tweaker lady has no qualms about it.  Happy?

Santa Cruz and Capistrano Beach - Gooooood Times

We were in beautiful Santa Cruz, California on Friday.  Sergio the Lost Boys saxophone player was a no-show, but there were plenty of other swarthy folks in attendance at the bowling alley we played at.  So, here is the flier for the show.  I found this one sitting crumpled up on a table and I'm not quite sure what it means, but that's what I'm here for, right?  To find strange artifacts and tell you about them.  Or lie to you about them.  Or whatever it is I do when my brain is polluted with liquor.

Someone took the time to circle the band names and then, promptly, cross a couple out for some reason.  Maybe they were keeping a tally of who they liked and didn't like.  We, apparently, were not a big hit with this person, and were debased in the fashion of a "no smoking" sign.  But let me defend myself.  The rumors are untrue.  We don't cause cancer.  Reports of the hazards of exposure to the Sawyer Family are greatly exaggerated and unfounded.  The studies done on the subject have not been rigorously peer reviewed and rumors abound about scientists interpreting their results in a biased way to lend unfavorable impressions about us.  There is no reliable evidence supporting the claim our music is addictive in any way, or harmful to the public health.  This is all I am willing to say in the matter, as my lawyer has advised me.  For more information, contact the law firm of Strickland, Strickland, and Lowenstein, Crow, Oregon.

In related news, we played Coconuts in Capistrano Beach last night.  We were introduced to many of Kyle's old friends and some unsavory folks I would rather not mention.  But I'm gonna anyway, so take that, myself!

Immediately upon arrival, we were greeted by a man who very adamantly, and repeatedly, informed us of his history of guitar playing.  38 years.  38 years he's been playing guitar.  With UFO, and Montrose.  He didn't even take off his golf spikes, see?  38 years.  He's played with UFO.  He's been playing for 38 years.  He didn't even take off his golf spikes.  Well, you see how the conversation went.  ALL NIGHT LONG.  Yes, sir, I remember what you told me twenty minutes ago.  38 years, golf spikes.  Got it.  No, please do not try to help us load our gear.  It is painfully obvious that you have had approximately 36 beers tonight, and I don't really have the money to replace an amp shattered on the concrete like a fumbled pint glass.

Thanks to Coconuts Bar, Zombie Cartel, Victoria, and everyone else who came out.  We had fun, except for the 38 years guy, and that other drunk hippie who tried to sell us wool hats.  Do I look like the kind of guy who'd wear a wool hippie beanie?    

Hey, That Thing Looks Pretty Nice

"LOST GREEN SUITCASE, On 12th and mill Alley with clothes and handmade lazy susan, $50 Reward for returned items, If you have any information please contact Kelsey"

I don't fully understand this person's use of capital letters.  I guess "Alley" is the important part of the proper name now.  Yes, I know, it's a low blow to make fun of grammatical errors, but what else am I going to say about this?  A lost lazy susan in a green suitcase?  Makes you wonder what it's worth.  Oh, right, fifty bucks.

I'm sure some bums found it, searched through it and took what they wanted.  Now they are sitting in the bushes by the river dining in style, spinning that lazy susan around so the whole crew can get bites.  Pinto beans, spin, navy beans, spin, lima beans, spin, black beans, spin, Boone's farm.  It's great because Boone's can be the tasty beverage with supper and the dessert.  Because hobos are really good at multi-tasking.  

Thanks Tara for this one.  Keep looking.

There He Is, The DUI King

Howdy from the road.  The mini California tour has now begun.  We played in Chico, California last night and, after a couple months off, it was pretty good in conjunction with the free Schlitz and Olympia.  Fitting, since this is the stencil on our parking space as we pulled up to the rear of the club.  And the rear is just how we like it...

DUI King?  Well, at least he has a nice parking space.  Maybe it will keep him from driving home and becoming the DUI emperor.  Given that this was near the courthouse, perhaps the DUI king is the cop who ruins everyone's lives in Chico, so much that he gets his own parking space during the day to meet the drunks in court.

Anyway, thanks Chico.  Thanks Kat and Bucket City.  We won't hold it against you that your cat, Mr. Miyagi, sprayed our sleeping bags.  We didn't even feed him to our tour dog, Elvis, because we're consummate professionals.

Sorry I'm not too funny today. Just woke up and internet on the road is a precious, sometimes rare, commodity.  I haven't even finished my coffee yet and it's about time to leave already.  Coming your way Santa Cruz.  I just know that slippery Spanish sax player from the Lost Boys is coming tonight.  please,please,please...