Tires! Shows! Tires!

Poor Patrick Stewart; will you ever be healthy? After only a month of birdmonstering, Sir Patrick has blown a coolant hose, leaked roughly nine thousand dollars of oil, and, now, blown a tire. And we've treated her so well too: we got her a new mirror when the right hand one fell out mysteriously in Northern California, we let her drink plenty of gas, we clean the bug corpses off as often as we can, and we removed those old bananas that had been under the seat for the past four days; in other words, she is loved. Hopefully, together, we can work through this. Tonight, she gets a nice sushi dinner and a drive through the park. We're gonna kill her with kindness.

Anyway, turns out we didn't really know how to change Sir Patrick's tires, so Zach, our neighbor, and I (along with BAGeL Ted, who did a lot of picture-taking and guffawing but very few tire-related activities) spent an hour and a half learning last night. Sure, sure: I understand the basic principles of tire changing, but in practice: not so good. At least I got to have oil under my fingernails while drinking beer and pretending I knew what I was doing. That was fun.

Now, re-tired and ready to go, we've got a show tomorrow night at 330 Rich with Push to Talk and Damone that we can make it to. I recommend y'all come out and enjoy. There will be loud music, bouncing and new stickers (spoiler: parachuting moose!). And, yes, yes: the East Coast will soon be upon us (more on that later), so for those who've been politely prodding us towards the Atlantic, we'll see you in June. Or early, early July. We'll be busy writing & scheming & booking & laughing at our tumorous bill-pile until then. Now, back to work, where they pay me, apparently, for not working...