I'm really starting to enjoy this whole touring-from-home thing. It's like telecommuting, except, you know: less Twinkies, no conference calls, way less sweatpants. Right now, I'm prepping for tonight's show in Sacramento by eating a sesame seed bagel, having a nice cup of coffee, and pretending I'm going to do the laundry, which is one of my favorite things to procrastinate. Right up there with paying bills, cleaning the kitchen, and finally finishing Canterbury Tales, which (let's be honest), I'm never, ever going to do. I already read the part with centuries old fart jokes so really: what's left? Lots of "y"s in place of "i"s, no doubt, and maybe a dragon. Not really one of those books that aged well, in my opinion.
Yes, indeed. Touring from home is a wonderful thing. This weekend alone was enough to endear the idea to me forever, in fact. One of Dave & I...Dave & mine...Dave & my's...this guy Dave & I knew from our short pants, bad hair, and long division days was in town from the tropical paradise known as Denver and joined us for a couple shows. So did a whole slew of signifigant others, friends, friend's parents, and relations whose description would be too convoluted to attempt to truly describe. We played in Santa Rosa to a lovely crowd that, if I may be frank, was larger and far more wonderful than had been previously anticipated. I was nursing one of those sledgehammer-to-the-face hangovers that force you to contemplate a life of dour sobriety but the show was one of our recent favorites. Plus, there was a poster there advertising Birdmonster with $3 Coor's Light which made me realize the name "$3 Coor's Light" is a pretty fantastic (and incredibly deceiving) bandname. Better: "$1 Well Drinks." Or "Free Appetizers." Sure, people would hate you when they showed up, wondering where their cheap drinks or free pigs in a blanket were, but I bet you'd do quite well before the word got out.
The following day, after a fitfull slumber at Zach's folk's house, a large contingent of us dragged ourselves to Armstrong Woods for the hike I can still feel in my hamstrings. Fun fact about Armstrong Woods: George Lucas filmed all that Ewok-y goodness there. Hiking through there is simultaneously breathtaking and dissapointing: gorgeous mossy trees bereft of hairy gremlin things.
We played Oakland that night, ate at E&J's barbeque, and returned home for half the Superbowl before driving our old buddy to the airport & getting that nostalgic trip to In N' Out in first. To sum up: another show, two more delicious meat-centric dinners, the good quarter of a bad game, and more driving. But we did listen to some New Kids on the Block in the car, which, if you haven't done lately, I thoroughly recommend. I'm pretty certain "Hangin' Tough" is the sorriest attempt at thugish posturing in the entirety of human history. Also, it's set to a beat that even the cheapest, back alley, hip hop producer would be ashamed to use, proving, once again, that there was only one true and noble boy band and that their name was Boyz II Men. A moment of silence for the genius that they were and forever shall be. Amen.