We arrived safely at The Crowne Royale Hotel in Seattle, shortly after our security team beat off thousands of fans clamoring for our flesh and autographs. Hmmm...there's gotta be a better way to say that.
We all went out to eat at some Irish place. Boris and Drew had some coddle. I had some kind of meat pasty (and a g-string). It was tasty. Mike and I went home to get our beauty rest for the gig while Steve, John and Boris investigated a crime scene.
After some keen detective work, Boris happened upon a clue.
John managed to snap a photo of the culprit before he got away.
He looked a little bit like this.
"Holy shit. I know that fucker," Steve said.
Steve phoned the local authorities immediately, as any good drummer would.
As the perp was led away by the authorities, Steve wagged his tongue at him and gave him the old "nana nana poo poo" but in a really manly, sexy way.
It was a great day for justice!
Later that night, we played a show at Jules Maes Saloon in the Georgetown section of Washington. It was a pretty cool bar and their tater tots were like fried chunks of God's nipples. Mysterious Chocolate opened up for us, got down on all fours and blew our minds. Mikiech, their singer, would put Paula Abdul to shame, and not because of his drinking and drug abuse. Nay, it was his dancing. That boy can cut up a rug like O.J., if O.J. were to mistake a rug for his ex-wife and her lover. (Apologies to Steve, who is among the 4 people left who still think O.J. is innocent.)
Then we took the stage and played a fun set with our new instruments, which we had bought that day from Fuckface Center and planned to return a week later. The crowd was pretty enthusiastic, to the point where I decided to invite everyone to our hotel room at The Crowne Royale for a big after-party. A little later on in our set, a couple of guys left over from 1993 kept shouting "PLAY SOMETHING HEAVY!" so naturally we busted out Slayer's "Angel of Death" and they loved it. Angst is alive and well in Seattle, my friends! We were actually prompted to play an encore, so we busted out a slow, sloppy version of "Spare Tire" which cleared the room out faster than that time I whipped my dick out at my office holiday party.
Despite that, the fact that we didn't get paid, and that nobody took us up on the hotel room party offer (apparently our hotel wasn't actually called The Crowne Royale, though I'm not sure that was the reason nobody showed up), it was a fun night and we met some neato folks. I do wish I hadn't ordered that pizza at 2 in the morning, but on the bright side, it was probably cheaper than ordering a hooker.
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