Happy 100th-Post Day, or, Goodbye San Francisco

You know that machine in Princess Bride they hook Carey Elwes up to that sucks years off his life? Yeah. Tomorrow is that machine and we are Buttercup. Buttercupmonster, rather. Point is, without boring you, we're loading into BFD at 9, playing at 2:30, and flying to New York at 8:30 and arriving in the morning at 7. This sounded doable, back when we booked & planned everything, but now the logistics are wagging their fingers at us. I'm going to make sure I shave so as not to get the probable-terrorist-pat-down at the security checkpoint. Actually, there's no point. I always get pulled aside. I'll just make sure I swallow the condom of heroin I'm smuggling before I get in line.

We got us some new shirts yesterday too. And maybe some more today. The former are gentlemen's t-shirts, black with gray writing while the latter are indescribably cool ladies shirts with pictures and fancy pants writing; the whole nine. We'll have both with us when we land. And at BFD. So give us your money.

That was blunt. Sorry. But, speaking of tours, Division Day sent us some snap shots of our jaunt a couple months ago. Click here if you want to see them. A majority of the pictures are of those dudes, but, you know, they're fucking adorable. I could just pinch their little cheeks, I could. There's also a bunch from an outdoor show where they stormed the stage during Alabama, an inordiante amount of restuarant pictures, and an uber-mature attempt at writing "dong" with a candle on a long exposure shot. Brings back good, sappy memories. We loves us some D-Day.

I might post a little extra something later today, but for now, I'm going to tie up some before-we-leave loose ends, have a little extra coffee, and try not to stress out like R. Kelly when Rufus is about to open the closet. We'll be keeping the blog updated whilst we travel through the East Coast, so, keep us bookmarked on your battle against Taylorism.

Until soon,
Birdmonster