I awoke on the floor of ___'s disorganized room, there was shit everywhere and there was this smell...
Anyway...I started the day off by emptying a 40 gallon trash can, that contained foggy green water and what appeared to be a bloated squirrel. I never imagined this as being part of the tour, but crazy shit happens, and I'm here to take care of the bimbos and bloated squirrels. Something about Maryland.
Justin, Dan, Andrew and I went out scating (skating). We pursued an ideal place to bomb hills and tamed some monstrous ones in our quest. One should, nah, one must look tough when on the stick even when fear is lingering about. Yes, fear. At certain points the stick would be going so fast that it would shake and wobble like a tit. Justin was bombing this one hill and it turned out to be fatal. He has to bail but at his velocity, his jog turned into a furious sprint. The soda he bought at the 7-11 met it's fate as it smashed into the blacktop. If he didn't release it from his grasp and spike it on the ground he would have been eating rocks and wearing his tasty beverage. I have never seen anyone haul ass that quickly, so I opted to carry my stick down that hill.
The tour is not just about music, it is about scating (skating), friendship and who could forget japanimation porn. I watched in awe the creative process from our friends in the orient. When we finally snapped ourselves out of the television; we floated off to Newark, Delaware to the East End Cafe. I entered with my raccoon skin cap atop my head to find a family eating steak dinners and some locals at the bar. My God we're at Ponderosa. I helped to juggle in the equipment and the show was underway. Others showed up and things were going well except for this dumb dick, crazy, curly-haired muthafucker who kept telling the boys to turn it down. Turn it down!? Hell no! The Joypoppers were up next and they were a collection of loose cannons. The drummer was a complete hoser, pointing out to the crowd after each song with his drumsticks. The bass player would smash his head into his instrument which would lead to his bleeding forehead. The guitarist was too white too have dreads, while the lead singer screamed and hopped. The worst part was that Bryan convinced everyone that I was the lead singer. I think it was the skin tight jeans and the same coffee induced stage presence; all I had to say was "nah dude".
Justin treated me to a candy bar after selling some rere a pair of drumsticks. Mmmm...
Butterfinger, crispity-crunchity, peanut-buttery, thanks dude. We got back for a taste of Nero, and in no time we left. I could tell by Nat's shaking head that Nero was a lost cause. I refuse to mention anything about rainbows from a previous conversation and the tides turned as Nat got us lost 2 minutes after we left.
This tour is an unending adventure, with various pit stops to attempt to get sleep. We crashed at Andrew's house in New Jersey. An embarrassing event occurred as I was getting into bed. I was diving, yes literally diving, into my blankets that lay on the floor, Justin was situated next to me and was trying to prevent me from making a sound as I galloped to bed. He shouted "don't dive" and grabbed for my side. Well, he got a grip on my (arrows) underwear and in now time they ripped down the side. I was...well...I was naked. The others heard the commotion that Justin was trying to prevent. We tried to explain, but just ended up laughing it off.
