A band rolled through on Friday. I had never heard of them, but I went to the show, 'cause, hey, that's what I do. They were looking for a place to stay and I had extra beds, so I offered and they accepted. Today I found this on their myspace page:
Hello Internet. Mike here, assuring everyone that the pizza horse still has a pizza face, houseboat be damned. I just tried to mentally prepare for blogging ... seeing as we haven't updated since before the Howie and Sons rock show/pizza eating contest ... and I quickly realized that I've actually been on tour for two months. Some sort of time/space anomoly, clearly. I'm going to forget like fifty people/places/things. Minimum.
Ok, I definately remember this morning. We had breakfast at the house of some friendly strangers. Bacon. Thick slices. Delicious.
California. Quite a state. We played on the radio with the supremely rad foks at KCPR, hung out with Brilliant Red Lights in Sacramento (and somehow met Zach Hill's cousin/new guitarist of Hella) ............... Cinemechanica requires excitement. MONTANA. I must go hit drums. Tour = get bored fast, get excited fast. I suck at blogging. The end.
mike
Okay, I took out a bit. It was where the dots were. Anyway, the point is, they mentioned me. Yay! That just goes to show. You may wind up with eleven less eggs and a pound of bacon missing. And, like 20 tortillas you're never going to eat. Because who knew the rest of the world didn't like them as much as you? But the point is, if you have the space, taking in a band for the night is a great thing to do with your evening. They will appreciate the hell out of it. You will find yourself wondering if they washed their asses with their own soap or if they used yours. Best of all, you will know you saved some nearly starving, dearly talented young guys from a night in their chomo van on the side of the road. Or worse, from a night spent on the long, mind-numbing road from your town to the next, which in my neck of the woods is a good ten hour drive on only fat tire and left-over show energy.
Guys, if you're reading (which you're obviously not, so what's the point?). I'm glad I could house and feed you. I hope all my friends would do the same. Don't forget me when you're famous. Oh, and thank me in your liner notes. Seriously.
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4 comments:
Heh, when they're famous and you go buy their CD, in the back it'll say "Thanks for the bacon."
Every breath you take.
Every fucking amazing slice of thick-ass bacon you make.
Every egg you break.
Even if you're irate.
We'll be watching you.
This made my day.
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