Eat to the beat!
Dear Diary,
I can't believe my dad asked me to the Fall Fling! I'm so excited. Jay kay.
So we're in Alton, an acheivement that will go down in the annals of sweet. We accomplished this by driving across Kansas and Missouri, stopping at pretty much every gas station ever to accomodate our overactive bladders/colons, singing along to "Rent" and eating chicken wings. Where did you get the chicken wings, you say?
You're clever, reader. Verrry clever. I welcome this battle of wits.
So last night, while not a show as explosive as the night before's, was a ton of fun. Crammed into Matt's tiny basement, rocked out fairly hardish, actually sold some stuff and got to see all the Alton friends we know and love (Ronnie, Jill, Ol' Toothless Doug, Masta C and so on.) We drank a whole lot, Diary. I will tell you right now that I am leading in the Redneckalyzer Points with a staggering BAC of 0.31. Jeremy had one Zima and scored 0.27, except he didn't. Thjis grants me a healthy lead, but one that can be obliterated if someone decides to shit their pants in public or start a homeless person on fire, or something equally (duh) sass.
While drinking, there was lots of faux fellatio and the decision that while on tour I'd get a necklace made of hickeys. This means I've got two enormous hickeys now that sort of look like I was harpooned through the neck. This made for endless hilarity whilst explaining the concept of Project Runway to my bandmates and souses townies.
This aside, we met some sweet homies from Indiana called Baxter Kid Disaster who're letting us come to Kentucky with them. I'm guessing by the end of the day that they'll be foul-mouthed, tattooed, bicuriously drunk Lotharios. Like us, I guess. Whatev.
Today is Kentucky. Today is also the day I eat the ass out of some White Castle.
I can't believe my dad asked me to the Fall Fling! I'm so excited. Jay kay.
So we're in Alton, an acheivement that will go down in the annals of sweet. We accomplished this by driving across Kansas and Missouri, stopping at pretty much every gas station ever to accomodate our overactive bladders/colons, singing along to "Rent" and eating chicken wings. Where did you get the chicken wings, you say?
You're clever, reader. Verrry clever. I welcome this battle of wits.
So last night, while not a show as explosive as the night before's, was a ton of fun. Crammed into Matt's tiny basement, rocked out fairly hardish, actually sold some stuff and got to see all the Alton friends we know and love (Ronnie, Jill, Ol' Toothless Doug, Masta C and so on.) We drank a whole lot, Diary. I will tell you right now that I am leading in the Redneckalyzer Points with a staggering BAC of 0.31. Jeremy had one Zima and scored 0.27, except he didn't. Thjis grants me a healthy lead, but one that can be obliterated if someone decides to shit their pants in public or start a homeless person on fire, or something equally (duh) sass.
While drinking, there was lots of faux fellatio and the decision that while on tour I'd get a necklace made of hickeys. This means I've got two enormous hickeys now that sort of look like I was harpooned through the neck. This made for endless hilarity whilst explaining the concept of Project Runway to my bandmates and souses townies.
This aside, we met some sweet homies from Indiana called Baxter Kid Disaster who're letting us come to Kentucky with them. I'm guessing by the end of the day that they'll be foul-mouthed, tattooed, bicuriously drunk Lotharios. Like us, I guess. Whatev.
Today is Kentucky. Today is also the day I eat the ass out of some White Castle.
posted by tgrh. at 8:45 AM
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