California round-up: Eureka.

We played some shows. They were pretty rad.

We started driving at 7 p.m. Thursday night. Wound up at a Motel 6 in Eugene, OR around midnight. Watched some Adult Swim, crashed out. Halfway through the night, a bug or a spider or some shit flew into my mouth and I couldn't sleep anymore.

Friday, we turned up in Eureka, CA. The Lil Red Lion is the kind of place that has shotgun shells and used rubbers strewn across the parking lot, and a sign in the toilet letting you know that you're being videotaped. I chose to shit at the Burger King instead.

Mount Vicious play first. Consummate showmen, I'll tell you what. I don't remember most of what they played that night. I polished off my drink tickets before they even started. That's how rock and roll I am, dude. But they were great. Fantastic band.

We play next, and my amp shits the bed before song number one. I am pissed. Alli of Mount Vicious subs hers in and I start twisting knobs in between songs until it sounds right. I keep forgetting how loud those little Fender DeVille things are. Technical difficulties aside, we put on the best fucking rock show all eight of those people in Eureka have ever seen, and we finish it off with a twelve minute version of "Watching The Hydroplanes," in which I play guitar on top of the bar and get pelted with lemon wedges by the bartender. I'm still not sure if he was doing it in rock and roll fun or if it was because he wanted me to get off the fucking bar. Adam would have gotten in more trouble anyway for crowd surfing onto the pool table.



The Zygoats played last. I forget most of it. I was drunk. Cool dudes, though.

Richy and Alli posed as a couple and rented us a room at the Econolodge a block away. They woke up a very grumpy hotel manager with a very thick accent.

"Yeah, we need a room. But we hate each other, so we need two separate beds."
"I no care, asshole. Meh. Check out time is 11, asshole."

The room, of course, is right above the manager's. I don't think we made a very good impression.





We tried to break into the swimming pool. No dice. Brian, Necklace, Alli, and I went to Taco Bell instead.

"Hello?"
"Hey James, this is Adam. Can you get me two 7 Layers?"
"Um, okay."

(click)

(ring)

"Hello?"
"Hey James, this is Chris. Can you get me a cheese quesadilla?"
"Okay."

(click)

(ring)

"Hello?"
"Hey James, this is Andre. Can you get me a chicken quesadilla?"
"Sure."

(click)

(ring)

"Yeah?"
"Hey James, can you--"

(click.)

The next morning we packed our vans back up. I was supposed to sleep in the van, but Dre was sleeping on top of of my keys and cell phone. 'tevs.

Motel manager was staring at us, as we packed the van. I bet he was thinking something like.

"Ach. You fahging asshole guys! I rent room to two assholes, and I see eight asshole guys and one malnutritioned little girl. Fahging bastard guys! Meh!"

Richy goes into the office, throws the key card on the table, and says "Thanks, dude!" Points to a stack of newspapers and asks "Complimentary?" before taking one. Big, huge, brass balls.

(more to come.)