Tightrope's A Series Of Unfortunate Events
According to Murphy's law,
if something CAN go wrong it WILL go wrong. And there's not a fucking thing you can ever do about it, because this is just how life is. You buckle up, shut the fuck up and tag along for the rest of the ride or you start complaining and ruin it for everybody. Us 'fine' lads in Tightrope definately felt like crying a little bit yesterday, driving 35 mph in the worst fucking snowstorm we've had in 10 years hoping to make it in time (alive?) for the Make Do And Mend show in Quebec City. A car full of gear, 5 dudes, a 3 hour drive and a fucking white wall of death. Sounds like a motherfucking recipe for a motherfucking disaster if you ask me...
Before we get to the crunchy details however, let's have a look at where it all started. No names have been changed and any ressemblance with actual events and characters is NOT A FUCKING COINCIDENCE. Some of the events depicted on this blog where slightly altered to make it appear a little more glorious than it actually is...
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, part 1;
December 2, 2010, Montreal, QC
For what seems like a week a now, we can't seem to get along on a specific point. Shall we record some guitar tracks for the goddamn 7 inch we've been working on in and out for the past 2 months or should we have a band practice since we're leaving for Albany, NY, the next day. After booking a studio session, then cancelling it, then booking another one and then cancelling it again we decided it would be better if we just jammed.
After all, Chuck Dynamite's been gone for 3 weeks in Abitibi working is ass off. There was absolutely no way we'd offer a tight performance to unsuspecting Albanians the day after if the drummer forgets parts of songs, right? Right? Seemed like the best idea. When you're aware of Murphy's law you better take at least some precautions so it doesn't come back to bite you in you in the ass when you least expect it.
What exactly could go wrong during a band practice?
I ripped off my pair of jeans.
From my crotch to my knees.
My fucking favorite and only fucking pair of fucking jeans. FUCK. Alright, let's not consider that a bad omen for our 4 day stint across the border and back. I'm pissed. Very, very pissed. I loved those jeans, man. I would have married them, really. I was in a completely monogamous relationship with them for the last 4 months. I washed them ONCE.
They died in my arms. So fucking tragic. And this is not to mention the thought that I did gain weight in the last two months creeping up in the back of my head. Self esteem = gone for the next 15 minutes.
A. Kerten: 'Bah, it's not so bad man. You can still wear them at work and shit. I mean, you're testing videogames. No big deal.'
Now picture a guy, with shoes and socks on, no jeans but a pair of tight black boxers and a t-shirt, smoking a cigarette in a doorway. People are passing by behind him and have this 'Whythefuckisntthatguywearingpants?' look on their face. His reply:
'You know man, it's not because i'm testing videogames that I don't have to maintain a professional image'
Which is a lie, of course. I saw people wearing Ed Hardy t-shirts at work. Even my 3 ferrets know that Ed Hardy isn't part of a 'professional image'. But going to work with your balls hanging out of the Marianna's Trench on your pair of jeans seems like an even worst idea. So in case you where wondering; there are actually worse things than this:
If you bothered reading all this and wonder 'where the fuck is this going?' then please let me resume the entire story in less than 20 words and then give you a statisfying conclusion: I ripped off my jeans and Chuck gave me another pair.
End of story...
For now.
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 2;
December 3, 2010, Montreal And Albany, NY
Got to work this morning at 8:30. Brought my backpack with all my shits in there. We're leaving at 2 p.m sharp for 4 days! FUCK YEAH! Tonight we are playing in Albany, NY with After The Fall and The Sainte Catherines. The next day we are playing Kingston with the same bands. Then on the other next day we are playing Brooklyn with a band called Departures. We'll be wrapping up this nice little trip with a show in Quebec City with our favorite band, Connecticut's own brand of orgcore extravanganza: Make Do And Mend.
I got some cd's, a toothbrush, aspirins, clean underwear, clean t-shirts, ipod and all that shit. I didn't forget to bring a towel. I also brought my brand new passport! It is quite a sight to behold. Took me months to actually get around the fucking procedures, fill the papers properly, find time to stop by the office, pay for express delivery and all that shit. I'm a lazy procrastinating motherfucker and so is Quebec's government.
This will be the FIRST FUCKING TIME I get out of my country. I don't think I've ever been that stoked about anything else before. Vegan pizza, new faces, different cigarettes, chip's I've never tasted before, new cities, ultra cheap beer...
The dudes come pick me up at Eidos Montreal's offices. The plan is to drop our gear at The Sainte Catherines jam space so they can pack it in their van and smuggle it across the border for us since none of us own work permits. Andrea from Dig It Up and Ste-Cath is our ticket in. Murphy's law shows it's ugly face for the second time in less than 36 hours; Andrea's got the wrong set of keys and cannot open the doors to the jam space. Waiting game begins; Me, Mexican and Veghi wait there with the gear while Antoine and Chuck go fetch Andrea's keys.
They finally show up, we get the gear in there and leave. Before leaving I decide I HAVE to change jeans since Mexican brought another pair. I have to try them on because i don't wanna spend another minute in Chuck's dirty jeans he wears at work. So I decide to change outside. Of course, there's a bunch of dudes behind me looking at me with the 'whythefuckisntthatguywearingpants?' look on their face. New pants are tight but looking good. Off we go!
You can tell everyone in the car have their underwears in a bunch. You could cut the stokedness with a freaking chainsaw and feed the entirety of South Africa with it. For the entire drive up until the border not a single fart can be heard or smelled. Then we can see the border. People start acting stupid. We drop at Duty Free, grab some drinks and food, go back in the car and put the car in line in order to cross the border.
This is where the farting begins.
What if we don't get across? What if it's a girl and she ends up being a real bitch? What if it's a mustachio'ed man acting all Chuck Norris on our asses? Mike is mexican, what if we get held back for 3 hours? Chuck got fingerprinted, what happens if they make a big deal about it? OMG OMG OMG.
Before the 5th fart can be heard or smelled, the guy over at customs lets us cross.
Wait, what?
That was TOO easy.
Oh, whatever. From my perspective, I was a genuinely disapointed when I realised that Canada and the U.S.A look the same when you cross the border. Same trees, same asphalt, same everything. Even the fucking cars look the same. What was I expecting? Fucking palm trees and flying cars? So we go on with our trip. We finally make it to Albany. Soooooo stoked. We stop at Little Anthony's and order 4 different kinds of motherfucking vegan pizza. Smells awesome. People working there look stoked to have a bunch of frenchies raving about their pizzas. People casually eating there definately don't look stoked to have a bunch of fucking obnoxious frenchies barging into their quiet pizzeria and acting all... well... FRENCH (except Mexican, 'cuz he's from the west coast ya'know).
This is where Murphy decides it's time to barge in our little mental heaven with 12 gauges blazing. Antoine opens up his cellphone. The Ste-Catherines didn't get across the border. Fuck, they didn't even make it out of Montreal. Fucking van broke down. You know, the van with all our fucking gear in there? Yeah, that one.
Mike Moak (which will be reffered as The Moakie from now on) from After The Fall ain't too stoked either. The Moakie is ALWAYS stoked. There's a lingering smell of cancelled shows in the air. We grab the pizzas and head towards the venue, hoping to find a solution.
Once we get to the venue, we are greeted by The Moakie. He's definately smiling. Everyone should know The Moakie or at least a guy like him. Genuinely awesome dude. His smile and laughter are like sunshine except it won't give you cancer. I think I have a bro-crush on this guy. He tells us the show for tonight will go on, but Kingston is going to be cancelled. I guess this is the kind of shit that happens when you're missing you're headlining band. I feel bad for the dude, he went through the trouble of booking two shows; he's also a victim of the Murphy's law. Everyone is at one point in their lives. I am then introduced to Ginger and Mandi whom the guys have met on a previous Albany trip where I couldn't be since I didn't have a passport. We climb up to their apartment located right on top of the venue and proceed to eat the fuck out of those pizzas.
Fuck, believe me when I tell you those pizzas where the shit. I've never had anything quite like it. You may be a vegan or a 'carnivore' it just doesn't matter. This shit is fucking delicious. It's definately one of the highlights of this trip. Usually I find that whenever people hype something as much as this, I end up being disappointed... but not this time. It was unbelievable. Once we ate until our stomach where full of awesome stuff, we went back downstairs and started the show. Since Albany seems packed to the brim of awesome people, we're able to get some gear to play on. I'm using The Moakie's SG and Mesa Boogie amplifier. Chuck finds a drum. Veghi gets an amp and a bass. Mexican gets a Squier and one fucking loud, albeit tiny, Fender amp. Antoine does whatever a singer does; grabs a mic and plugs it in the P.A. Singers never bring their own gear, anyways.
So you think that up until this point, Murphy's law probably ran out of ammo.
You are so wrong.
Two songs into our set, I somehow managed to break a string on The Moakie's guitar. FUUUUUUCK. The Moakie is like 'hey no biggie man I got some more strings'. The keys on his guitar are something I've never seen or used before, so he ends up changing the string real quick. Meanwhile the other guys are ripping through our I'm The One (from The Descendents for all you culturally inept people) cover. String Changed. Guitar tuned. Rock'N'Roll. Jesus Christ, what's that fucking sound? Must be the new string that's already out of tune. Back to the tuner. Next song. Jesus FUCKING Christ. What is that sound!? It's coming from my left. The Mexican's Squier wouldn't stay in tune. Whatever. Let's pretend everything is alright. Oh... did I just break a SECOND string!? Yes, I just did. Fuck it. The show must go on.
From the looks of it people liked it. I've always been overly self-critical and self-deprecating whenever we are done playing a show. It's never perfect enough for my own tastes. It usually lasts no more than 15 minutes to half an hour, so once this phase is over we get down to serious business. Mandi brings us to the liquor store. Did you know that you can get 60 Pabst blue Ribbon cans for less than 35$ in the states!? This is heaven. I want to live here. On the way there I get to know Mandi a little bit. She's awesome, she's driving this old busted up van driving in every single hole in the road and gesturing in a very extrovert manner while saying how she sometimes starts crying for no reason when she's drunk. She's very funny. The liquor store in itself was quite a sight to behold. Keep in my mind this was my first time out of my country so I have all the rights to get overly stoked about shit like this. There's litterally enough beer just in that one liquor store to be drunk every fucking day for the rest of your life if there ever was a Zombie Apocalypse.
Antoine is looking for something called 4 Loco. It's basically a 14% alcoholized beverage that involves a Monster energy drink and unhealthy amounts of vodka. If you think it sounds amazing, that's because you're fucking stupid. Sorry. Antoine doesn't even want to drink this shit, he justs wants to bring it back home and give it to a friend. No 4 Loco in that liquor store, however.
Anyways, we drive back to the venue. Proceed to drink a lot beer. SxE Veghi and SxE Mexican are drinking 0.00% Beck's. The Moakie brought his new After The Fall vaporizer. We watch some stoner band play. Go back outside. Drink more beer. Go back inside. Cancer is playing. Cancer fucking rules, man. The band, not the disease. Somebody mentionned how they sounded like Career Suicide. That was a good comparison. We then smoked some weed through the vaporizer; it knocked me on my ass and one hit is all it took. Shit's brutal and the fact that there's the After The Fall logo engraved on it gives a bonus +25 lung damage. You know the drill, go back out, drink some more, come back in. After The Fall is playing. They do not disappoint. They NEVER disappoint. I'm always impressed by Chris's performance behind the drum kit. And KC is such a good looking guymandudebro who shreds at bass. I think I have a bro-crush on this dude, too. Fuck, I have on crush on this band. Shit, I think i'm starting to sound like a real slut.
KC, you may have my cock but my heart belongs to The Moakie. Chris can hold my hand and take me to the mall (with the occasionnal bukkake). There, settled.
Once the show is over shit gets out of hand. We don't play tomorrow? We party tonight! Mandi eventually shows up with a huge can of Tilt and gives it to Antoine. If you're wondering, Tilt is basically the same thing as a 4 Loco. We put some peer pressure on Antoine to drink it all. He chugs. He smokes some weed. Chugs again. This shit tasted, looked and smelled like rainbow colored Unicorn diarrhea. And no matter what the smell or the color, shit will always be shit.
And when you put shit in your mouth, you generally puke.
You catch my drift?
This is exactly what Antoine did. He puked all over the house's facade. It looked like Poutine without fries. He was shooting streams of puke like in the movies. It didn't even look like he was puking for real because the stream was just fucking obnoxious. In fact, he wasn't puking; he was tilting. He then stumbled his way back in the house. We get him something to puke in. Me and Veghi are just laughing uncontrollably. Antoine is puking over his Prevenge t-shirt, over his pants, in his nose... pretty much everywhere except in the fucking bucket we gave him. Sometimes I stop laughing and clean up his face with a towel. He eventually passes out. Eventually everyone passes out. Me and Chuck are the last frenchies standing. Mandi cooks us some fucking delicious vegan chicken burgers but Chuck passes out before he gets to eat it. Last thing I remember before going to sleep is Mandi chugging beer while doing a headstand.
What a fucking day.
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 3;
December 4, Albany and New York City, NY
We all wake up in a haze. We get offered breakfast but we promised The Moakie we where having breakfast at his place. The Moakie's own special sweetheart Coleen is cooking us breakfast. On the menu: Vegan waffles, scrambled eggs, potatoes and bagels. It was so good that when I actually got back home I cooked some scrambled eggs, bagels and potatoes but I was too lazy to actually cook some waffles. We then smoke a couple bowls and The Moakie takes us around Albany. It's really cool. Albany is to New York what Longueuil is to Montreal. Except Longueuil is ugly as fuck and Albany has some really cool spots, especially downtown. He takes us to a small record shop called Last Vestige. It's really cool and we buy a bunch of records for real cheap. I got these records:
Stay tuned for Tightrope's A Series Of Fortunate Events, part 3.2;
Sometime during the week!
if something CAN go wrong it WILL go wrong. And there's not a fucking thing you can ever do about it, because this is just how life is. You buckle up, shut the fuck up and tag along for the rest of the ride or you start complaining and ruin it for everybody. Us 'fine' lads in Tightrope definately felt like crying a little bit yesterday, driving 35 mph in the worst fucking snowstorm we've had in 10 years hoping to make it in time (alive?) for the Make Do And Mend show in Quebec City. A car full of gear, 5 dudes, a 3 hour drive and a fucking white wall of death. Sounds like a motherfucking recipe for a motherfucking disaster if you ask me...
Before we get to the crunchy details however, let's have a look at where it all started. No names have been changed and any ressemblance with actual events and characters is NOT A FUCKING COINCIDENCE. Some of the events depicted on this blog where slightly altered to make it appear a little more glorious than it actually is...
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, part 1;
December 2, 2010, Montreal, QC
For what seems like a week a now, we can't seem to get along on a specific point. Shall we record some guitar tracks for the goddamn 7 inch we've been working on in and out for the past 2 months or should we have a band practice since we're leaving for Albany, NY, the next day. After booking a studio session, then cancelling it, then booking another one and then cancelling it again we decided it would be better if we just jammed.
After all, Chuck Dynamite's been gone for 3 weeks in Abitibi working is ass off. There was absolutely no way we'd offer a tight performance to unsuspecting Albanians the day after if the drummer forgets parts of songs, right? Right? Seemed like the best idea. When you're aware of Murphy's law you better take at least some precautions so it doesn't come back to bite you in you in the ass when you least expect it.
What exactly could go wrong during a band practice?
- Blowing up a tube?
- Breaking a string?
- Breaking a skin?
- Losing your voice?
- Breaking a drum stick only to realize it's the last one you have?
- Realizing you forgot your picks?
- Exploding the P.A kit?
I ripped off my pair of jeans.
From my crotch to my knees.
My fucking favorite and only fucking pair of fucking jeans. FUCK. Alright, let's not consider that a bad omen for our 4 day stint across the border and back. I'm pissed. Very, very pissed. I loved those jeans, man. I would have married them, really. I was in a completely monogamous relationship with them for the last 4 months. I washed them ONCE.
They died in my arms. So fucking tragic. And this is not to mention the thought that I did gain weight in the last two months creeping up in the back of my head. Self esteem = gone for the next 15 minutes.
A. Kerten: 'Bah, it's not so bad man. You can still wear them at work and shit. I mean, you're testing videogames. No big deal.'
Now picture a guy, with shoes and socks on, no jeans but a pair of tight black boxers and a t-shirt, smoking a cigarette in a doorway. People are passing by behind him and have this 'Whythefuckisntthatguywearingpants?' look on their face. His reply:
'You know man, it's not because i'm testing videogames that I don't have to maintain a professional image'
Which is a lie, of course. I saw people wearing Ed Hardy t-shirts at work. Even my 3 ferrets know that Ed Hardy isn't part of a 'professional image'. But going to work with your balls hanging out of the Marianna's Trench on your pair of jeans seems like an even worst idea. So in case you where wondering; there are actually worse things than this:
If you bothered reading all this and wonder 'where the fuck is this going?' then please let me resume the entire story in less than 20 words and then give you a statisfying conclusion: I ripped off my jeans and Chuck gave me another pair.
End of story...
For now.
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 2;
December 3, 2010, Montreal And Albany, NY
Got to work this morning at 8:30. Brought my backpack with all my shits in there. We're leaving at 2 p.m sharp for 4 days! FUCK YEAH! Tonight we are playing in Albany, NY with After The Fall and The Sainte Catherines. The next day we are playing Kingston with the same bands. Then on the other next day we are playing Brooklyn with a band called Departures. We'll be wrapping up this nice little trip with a show in Quebec City with our favorite band, Connecticut's own brand of orgcore extravanganza: Make Do And Mend.
I got some cd's, a toothbrush, aspirins, clean underwear, clean t-shirts, ipod and all that shit. I didn't forget to bring a towel. I also brought my brand new passport! It is quite a sight to behold. Took me months to actually get around the fucking procedures, fill the papers properly, find time to stop by the office, pay for express delivery and all that shit. I'm a lazy procrastinating motherfucker and so is Quebec's government.
This will be the FIRST FUCKING TIME I get out of my country. I don't think I've ever been that stoked about anything else before. Vegan pizza, new faces, different cigarettes, chip's I've never tasted before, new cities, ultra cheap beer...
'Dude, I think I have a boner...'
The dudes come pick me up at Eidos Montreal's offices. The plan is to drop our gear at The Sainte Catherines jam space so they can pack it in their van and smuggle it across the border for us since none of us own work permits. Andrea from Dig It Up and Ste-Cath is our ticket in. Murphy's law shows it's ugly face for the second time in less than 36 hours; Andrea's got the wrong set of keys and cannot open the doors to the jam space. Waiting game begins; Me, Mexican and Veghi wait there with the gear while Antoine and Chuck go fetch Andrea's keys.
They finally show up, we get the gear in there and leave. Before leaving I decide I HAVE to change jeans since Mexican brought another pair. I have to try them on because i don't wanna spend another minute in Chuck's dirty jeans he wears at work. So I decide to change outside. Of course, there's a bunch of dudes behind me looking at me with the 'whythefuckisntthatguywearingpants?' look on their face. New pants are tight but looking good. Off we go!
You can tell everyone in the car have their underwears in a bunch. You could cut the stokedness with a freaking chainsaw and feed the entirety of South Africa with it. For the entire drive up until the border not a single fart can be heard or smelled. Then we can see the border. People start acting stupid. We drop at Duty Free, grab some drinks and food, go back in the car and put the car in line in order to cross the border.
This is where the farting begins.
What if we don't get across? What if it's a girl and she ends up being a real bitch? What if it's a mustachio'ed man acting all Chuck Norris on our asses? Mike is mexican, what if we get held back for 3 hours? Chuck got fingerprinted, what happens if they make a big deal about it? OMG OMG OMG.
Before the 5th fart can be heard or smelled, the guy over at customs lets us cross.
Wait, what?
That was TOO easy.
Oh, whatever. From my perspective, I was a genuinely disapointed when I realised that Canada and the U.S.A look the same when you cross the border. Same trees, same asphalt, same everything. Even the fucking cars look the same. What was I expecting? Fucking palm trees and flying cars? So we go on with our trip. We finally make it to Albany. Soooooo stoked. We stop at Little Anthony's and order 4 different kinds of motherfucking vegan pizza. Smells awesome. People working there look stoked to have a bunch of frenchies raving about their pizzas. People casually eating there definately don't look stoked to have a bunch of fucking obnoxious frenchies barging into their quiet pizzeria and acting all... well... FRENCH (except Mexican, 'cuz he's from the west coast ya'know).
This is where Murphy decides it's time to barge in our little mental heaven with 12 gauges blazing. Antoine opens up his cellphone. The Ste-Catherines didn't get across the border. Fuck, they didn't even make it out of Montreal. Fucking van broke down. You know, the van with all our fucking gear in there? Yeah, that one.
Mike Moak (which will be reffered as The Moakie from now on) from After The Fall ain't too stoked either. The Moakie is ALWAYS stoked. There's a lingering smell of cancelled shows in the air. We grab the pizzas and head towards the venue, hoping to find a solution.
Once we get to the venue, we are greeted by The Moakie. He's definately smiling. Everyone should know The Moakie or at least a guy like him. Genuinely awesome dude. His smile and laughter are like sunshine except it won't give you cancer. I think I have a bro-crush on this guy. He tells us the show for tonight will go on, but Kingston is going to be cancelled. I guess this is the kind of shit that happens when you're missing you're headlining band. I feel bad for the dude, he went through the trouble of booking two shows; he's also a victim of the Murphy's law. Everyone is at one point in their lives. I am then introduced to Ginger and Mandi whom the guys have met on a previous Albany trip where I couldn't be since I didn't have a passport. We climb up to their apartment located right on top of the venue and proceed to eat the fuck out of those pizzas.
Fuck, believe me when I tell you those pizzas where the shit. I've never had anything quite like it. You may be a vegan or a 'carnivore' it just doesn't matter. This shit is fucking delicious. It's definately one of the highlights of this trip. Usually I find that whenever people hype something as much as this, I end up being disappointed... but not this time. It was unbelievable. Once we ate until our stomach where full of awesome stuff, we went back downstairs and started the show. Since Albany seems packed to the brim of awesome people, we're able to get some gear to play on. I'm using The Moakie's SG and Mesa Boogie amplifier. Chuck finds a drum. Veghi gets an amp and a bass. Mexican gets a Squier and one fucking loud, albeit tiny, Fender amp. Antoine does whatever a singer does; grabs a mic and plugs it in the P.A. Singers never bring their own gear, anyways.
So you think that up until this point, Murphy's law probably ran out of ammo.
You are so wrong.
Two songs into our set, I somehow managed to break a string on The Moakie's guitar. FUUUUUUCK. The Moakie is like 'hey no biggie man I got some more strings'. The keys on his guitar are something I've never seen or used before, so he ends up changing the string real quick. Meanwhile the other guys are ripping through our I'm The One (from The Descendents for all you culturally inept people) cover. String Changed. Guitar tuned. Rock'N'Roll. Jesus Christ, what's that fucking sound? Must be the new string that's already out of tune. Back to the tuner. Next song. Jesus FUCKING Christ. What is that sound!? It's coming from my left. The Mexican's Squier wouldn't stay in tune. Whatever. Let's pretend everything is alright. Oh... did I just break a SECOND string!? Yes, I just did. Fuck it. The show must go on.
From the looks of it people liked it. I've always been overly self-critical and self-deprecating whenever we are done playing a show. It's never perfect enough for my own tastes. It usually lasts no more than 15 minutes to half an hour, so once this phase is over we get down to serious business. Mandi brings us to the liquor store. Did you know that you can get 60 Pabst blue Ribbon cans for less than 35$ in the states!? This is heaven. I want to live here. On the way there I get to know Mandi a little bit. She's awesome, she's driving this old busted up van driving in every single hole in the road and gesturing in a very extrovert manner while saying how she sometimes starts crying for no reason when she's drunk. She's very funny. The liquor store in itself was quite a sight to behold. Keep in my mind this was my first time out of my country so I have all the rights to get overly stoked about shit like this. There's litterally enough beer just in that one liquor store to be drunk every fucking day for the rest of your life if there ever was a Zombie Apocalypse.
Antoine is looking for something called 4 Loco. It's basically a 14% alcoholized beverage that involves a Monster energy drink and unhealthy amounts of vodka. If you think it sounds amazing, that's because you're fucking stupid. Sorry. Antoine doesn't even want to drink this shit, he justs wants to bring it back home and give it to a friend. No 4 Loco in that liquor store, however.
Anyways, we drive back to the venue. Proceed to drink a lot beer. SxE Veghi and SxE Mexican are drinking 0.00% Beck's. The Moakie brought his new After The Fall vaporizer. We watch some stoner band play. Go back outside. Drink more beer. Go back inside. Cancer is playing. Cancer fucking rules, man. The band, not the disease. Somebody mentionned how they sounded like Career Suicide. That was a good comparison. We then smoked some weed through the vaporizer; it knocked me on my ass and one hit is all it took. Shit's brutal and the fact that there's the After The Fall logo engraved on it gives a bonus +25 lung damage. You know the drill, go back out, drink some more, come back in. After The Fall is playing. They do not disappoint. They NEVER disappoint. I'm always impressed by Chris's performance behind the drum kit. And KC is such a good looking guymandudebro who shreds at bass. I think I have a bro-crush on this dude, too. Fuck, I have on crush on this band. Shit, I think i'm starting to sound like a real slut.
KC, you may have my cock but my heart belongs to The Moakie. Chris can hold my hand and take me to the mall (with the occasionnal bukkake). There, settled.
Once the show is over shit gets out of hand. We don't play tomorrow? We party tonight! Mandi eventually shows up with a huge can of Tilt and gives it to Antoine. If you're wondering, Tilt is basically the same thing as a 4 Loco. We put some peer pressure on Antoine to drink it all. He chugs. He smokes some weed. Chugs again. This shit tasted, looked and smelled like rainbow colored Unicorn diarrhea. And no matter what the smell or the color, shit will always be shit.
And when you put shit in your mouth, you generally puke.
You catch my drift?
This is exactly what Antoine did. He puked all over the house's facade. It looked like Poutine without fries. He was shooting streams of puke like in the movies. It didn't even look like he was puking for real because the stream was just fucking obnoxious. In fact, he wasn't puking; he was tilting. He then stumbled his way back in the house. We get him something to puke in. Me and Veghi are just laughing uncontrollably. Antoine is puking over his Prevenge t-shirt, over his pants, in his nose... pretty much everywhere except in the fucking bucket we gave him. Sometimes I stop laughing and clean up his face with a towel. He eventually passes out. Eventually everyone passes out. Me and Chuck are the last frenchies standing. Mandi cooks us some fucking delicious vegan chicken burgers but Chuck passes out before he gets to eat it. Last thing I remember before going to sleep is Mandi chugging beer while doing a headstand.
What a fucking day.
Tightrope's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 3;
December 4, Albany and New York City, NY
We all wake up in a haze. We get offered breakfast but we promised The Moakie we where having breakfast at his place. The Moakie's own special sweetheart Coleen is cooking us breakfast. On the menu: Vegan waffles, scrambled eggs, potatoes and bagels. It was so good that when I actually got back home I cooked some scrambled eggs, bagels and potatoes but I was too lazy to actually cook some waffles. We then smoke a couple bowls and The Moakie takes us around Albany. It's really cool. Albany is to New York what Longueuil is to Montreal. Except Longueuil is ugly as fuck and Albany has some really cool spots, especially downtown. He takes us to a small record shop called Last Vestige. It's really cool and we buy a bunch of records for real cheap. I got these records:
- Fugazi - Repeater LP
- From Ashes Rise - Nightmares LP
- Legit! - 7 inch EP
- Career Suicide - Discography 2000-2003 CD
- Foredirelifesake - Dance. Pretend. Forget. Defend CD
- Nothington - Roads, Bridges And Ruins CD ( 1$ !!! WADDAFACK! )
Stay tuned for Tightrope's A Series Of Fortunate Events, part 3.2;
Sometime during the week!
posted by ChickPeaJustice at
4:57 p.m.
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