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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

SXSW

Sorry it's taken so long to get on this action, but sxsw didn't really lend itself for enough free time to write one of these fuckers.  The protocol was essentially this:  wake up on a couch or floor, get some tacos, go play a show and watch a bunch of shows until two or three am, and make your way back to home base.  Oh, and you're doing all of this whilst getting completely shit-dicked the entire time.  You know the saying, "liquor before beer, have no fear.  Beer after liquor, you're gonna get sicker"?  Well I think the way sxsw was for me, it was more like, "sweet tea vodka before sparx, sparx, sparx, sweet tea vodka, tall boy lonestar, tall boy lonsestar, tall boy lonestar, 200ml Evan Williams, Red Stripe, Red Stripe, whoknowswhatelse, you're gonna be sitting on Satan's throne in Hell because he's off crying in an alley somewhere since you convinced his girlfriend to fuck you because you said you were in the Walkmen".

Well, kind of --  because although I did tell a girl I was in the Walkmen, I didn't get laid, and as far as I know, she wasn't dating Satan.  We just ended up talking about how I was [not really] just on Yo Gabba Gabba and then I unexpectedly ran into her again the next night and drunkenly convinced myself she was really into me.  Within that same twenty four hours I also drank whiskey with some of the Extraordinaires at a gay s&m bar that was pretty much a giant strobe light, and then weaseled our way into Emo's Jr. through the band entrance because I said we were playing in Owen Palette's backing band.

So when I wasn't being a big deceitful butt commando, I was eating some shit!  The only free thing I got to take advantage of was these veggie chips, courtesy of Sensible Portions, and was served at all the Brooklyn Vegan parties:


Were they any good?  Fucked if I know man, the table of free chips was set up directly next to the free Sparx table, where there were butter-face prostitutes pouring you as many of the free samples you wanted just so you might convince yourself to ever buy that shitty caffeine-less product ever again.  I will say that the new 9.0% lemonade flavor tasted good after about four of them though, and the mid-drifts made up for the lack of caffeine.  Oh yeah, the chips:  crunchy, salty, and bland as And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead's unfortunate set.

So the second best thing I ate in Austin was a "Texas-style" bratwurst that you could find being served at many street carts throughout the downtown area.  I chose to eat at one particular Best of the Wurst cart, though, because it consistently had a longer line than any of the other carts I came across due to the fact that the dude slinging the sausages was a Yokozuna sized mother fucker who was marinating everything on the grill with his dripping slam pig sweat.


I asked for the most popular item, which was a brat all the way:  sausage, grilled onions, sauerkraut, brown mustard, and curried ketchup(the most crucial of the condiments).  It was a beautiful mess of flavors with enough fat content to sustain a Somalian village for a month.  I think I'll go ahead and predict curried ketchup as being the next coolest thing for tattooed people to put everything on since Sriracha.  That or ranch mixed with a bunch of Sriracha.

And finally, the best thing I ate in Texas was of course, booking agent and label people asshole TACOS!  So one of the only major drawbacks to having a pretty much taco-only diet is that sometimes when you think you're going to drop a bus-load, you just end up having a 45 second long fart.  But other than that, eating tacos all the time fucking rules.  The best tacos I had in Texas was at El Chilito.


For breakfast, the taco that won it all was the Migas taco, which was egg, tortilla stips, tomato, onion, serrano, and cheese.  That dark, diarrhea looking stuff on there is actually the house salsa, which I'm pretty sure is a burnt pepper puree of sorts.


Up there is the overall winner of the Texas Taco Olympics, the Chicken Tinga Puffy Taco.  The tomato chipotle braised chicken was just fucking retarded, and deep frying the corn tortilla shell is realllly the only way corn tortillas should be eaten, am I right?  I kind of think corn tortillas taste like shit, otherwise.

Brothers Tacos in Houston was a close second, and Tacos del Fuego in Austin(across from the cigarrette shop that has a god damned tip jar on the counter) shop can go fuck itself for being completely rude and over priced.

El Chilito is located 2219 Manor Drive in Austin, Texas, about three of four block away from the bridge I should jump off of for being such a shitty, shitty pig.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Georgia -- Random Gas Station and Mama's Boy

As soon as we crossed into Georgia, we stopped at a gas station for our hourly snack time, where we came across something that almost made me faint while simultaneously pitch a trouser tent:



This is not, I repeat, NOT photo shopped.  Did it really take twenty years for Sun Chips to figure out that jalepeno cheddar jack is a much more natural flavor for a chip than fucking CINAMON!?   This flavor also kicks the shit out of Garden Salsa, which is the flavor that has become the fourth horseman of the Sun Chip apocalypse; that, and those new biodegradable bags that are louder than a swarm of locusts.

Also - all of you Jews, Muslims, vegans, and vegetarians might want to reconsider your chip choice, because according to Wikipedia, some flavors of Sun Chips have pork enzymes in them!  Crazy shit, right!?




Pictured above are the remnants of the boiled peanuts (aka “Goober Peas”) we got from the same gas station; remnants because I couldn’t photograph them in time before B-rock went all Operation Dumbo Drop on them.  Boiled peanuts are a traditional southern snack, much like that of chitlins, kracklins, and cousins.  Boiling peanuts usually takes at least four to seven hours, and are usually boiled in a bunch of salty shit, but in most of the southern gas stations I’ve encountered, “spicy Cajun style” is almost always an option, and actually the only flavor I've ever had.  Did you know that boiling peanuts with the shells-in releases four times as much anti-oxidant power as opposed to roasting them or eating them raw?  Neither did I, until I ate them, and then took a poop that was double fisting a bourbon and pbr, and had a lit cigarette in its poop mouth.


So we played a really bad ass farm to table fine dining restaurant in Athens that night, but unfortunately didn’t get to eat there because their mission statement doesn’t include helping touring musicians not be blinding beacons of filth.  So instead, you get to read about Momma’s Boy!




There’s sort of an unspoken franchise of brunch places like this in just about every small college town in the country.  It’s the type of place that serves all their beverages in mason jars, usually plays blue grass music, usually has a lot of vegetarian options, and there’s a  fairly good chance you saw one or more of the hung-over wait staff at the show the night before.  These places are pretty crucial to find on the road because they 1.)  usually have a way for you to get out of there for $7, and 2.)  are usually delicious.  I went for today’s special:  Pork chop with an egg over easy topped with raspberry hollandaise and served with cheese grits and a biscuit.




Now the description in itself is pretty drool worthy, right?  So was it awesome?  I mean, well, it wasn’t BAD or anything, but I guess maybe the best way to describe this dish is to compare it to the career of late 90’s alternative rock staple, Smash Mouth.  Like the band, this dish had about four successful singles, but not necessarily any singles I actually gave a shit about or would care to revisit.  Like the cheese grits: pretty good, but all they had to do was get the cheese on them while they were still piping hot so the cheese would actually melt!  Much like Smash Mouth, who could’ve had more than a decade’s plus staying power had they not been such fat ugly people!  Kudos for trying to mix it up with raspberry hollandaise, although it kind of fell flat, much like Smash Mouth’s cover of “I’m a Believer”.  Anyway, a career, and a dish, that I will pay my respects to for their ambition, but will stick with the Pigeon Hole in Cville and listen to Beck.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Nerth Kakilakee - Cooper's/The Milestone revisted

If being complete fat asses was having sex, then The Invisible Hand would be ballz deep.  I'd say about four out of every five meals have had something to do with BBQ, and getting up to get a glass in the morning is enough to knock the wind out of us.  B-rock compared our van to Aushwitz because of all the gas(the inhuman, ungodly, jump out of a moving car, gas).  To top it off, we're all sick as shit(Thomas isn't -- yet), and our Dr. -- Dr. Shitferbrains -- has prescribed slow smoked fat as part of our daily diet because of it's high content in vitamins F and Butt.  But hey, we're in North Carolina, it'd be a sin not to eat "Carolina Style" Q(We'll also have the chance to partake in Texas and Memphis styles as well).  Our buddy Rich over in Raleigh knew of the most old school, bad ass, Eastern Carolina Style joint, called Cooper's.


East Carolina style is "whole hog", meaning they barbecue the whole damn creature and use all sorts of not-so-shitty parts plus a bunch of wild shittier parts, then chop all that shit up and mix it together.  The sauce is thin and vinegar based, and whoever is cooking/serving it is usually some jolly old shit grinner.


For my sides, I went with collard greens and corn & buttuh beans, which are the same thing as lima beans and  have nutrients out the asshole:  fiber, magnesium, and a ton of iron, which wikipedia tells me is great for chicks on the rag.  Not pictured are the hushpuppies and pork rinds, whose only nutrients are ass fatteners.  Everything was spectacular, as it should be considering they've had over 70 years to learn how to not fuck up.  So if you're looking for the real thing, I would highly recommend Cooper's!

~~~

Remember when we went to The Milestone in Charlotte?  Well we played there again!  And wouldn't you know it, I found some more shitty bands names!  *Trumpets*

I'm thinking ska band?  Do they still make those?  All I know is that these 
dudes must be beating off the hoochie with a stick!  Or just beating off.



That does indeed say "Poontanglers".  I'd say Southern rock
that blurs the line between "no" and "yes" and "No answer?  Hm.
That's as a yes!"



Here's a good question:  where does one go
when you're riding the Murdercycle?  Holy geez
I hope it's Bone Fish Grill.  Cuz i love murdering Bang
Bang Shrimp.



Me too, buddy, me too.



Check out their hit single, "I feel really strongly about stuff"



THEN RIP THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS OFF!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

A Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

Hope everything's well back home in Charlottesville!  The tour is off to a decent start!  So far all the kids have been very responsive to our music, and everyone has been very hospitable.  I woke up in Richmond, VA two mornings ago, and we were invited to what white people call a "brunch party".  Apparently, for white twenty somethings, it is common to invite a bunch of your other white friends over and make food together and talk about stuff -- it was quite a cultural experience!


There were wonderful pastries, grav lax, mimosas, and some sort of dish involving eggs, spinach and heavy cream.  I was too embarrassed to ask the girl who made it what it was because I couldn't remember her name, you know, because they all look the same to me.  Gertrude?  Maybe it was Lucy... or Betty.


For dinner, me and the boys went to a popular joint called Sticky Rice.  I had a green curry rice noodle dish with chicken and it was probably the driest noodle dish I've ever had in my life!  But then I ordered an extra side of curry sauce and it was quite enjoyable.  Unfortunately, as tasty as it was, it gave me some Biblically proportioned gas.  I let one rip in the bathroom at the house show we played, and I heard one very attractive girl exclaim, "Jesus!  It smells like bad sex in there!", whatever that means!

After the show, we got a hotel room in your favorite place in the country, Colonial Williamsburg!  Although we didn't have time to get cashew brittle or churn butter, we did get the opportunity to eat at a garbage dump of a place called Mama Steve's!  There was a was an unabridged history card of the place on our table, but I'll go ahead and give you the abridged version:

"In 1969, a couple of Greek people started a restaurant.  They died.  Then some other people ran it.  Then they died too.  Now this old bag runs it and our food is mediocre and overpriced, and we make our waitresses dress like 17th century slaves."




Pictured, is a perfect example what grits should NOT be:  flavorless, boring, and soupy.  If I wanted something so mushy and bland in my mouth, I'd kiss Uncle Menudo! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!

After that we drove to God's gift to ugly, Norfolk, VA.  Seriously, Mom, I know the Lord works in mysterious ways, and everything happens for a reason, but the landscape of this city is a cruel joke.  We decided that our arteries were getting a little out of hand, so we punished them with BBQ.


You should make sure to tell Billy that I ate at a BBQ place named after a Godzilla character!  Also make sure to tell him that the half chicken I ordered was microwaved to order!  Not to say it wasn't delicious, just a little difficult to eat.



Remember watching that movie, "Spirited Away", and there was that scene where the parents were eating and eating and eating, and they slowly turned into pigs?  The guy who ran this place looked EXACTLY like that, and I could barely understand a word he was saying -- just like you!  Just kidding!

We drove to Virginia Beach afterwards to play a nice little art space packed with fifteen year old androgynous hookers.  Finding a place to stay was a little difficult, but we ended up staying at a house with a chinchilla, a comatose cat named "General Tso", and a rabbit that was shaped like a basketball!  I came down with a bad headache, but our host gave me some medical-grade marijuana called, "AK-47", and put on the sci-fi classic, "Logan's Run".  It did the trick!

Tomorrow we leave Virginia and make our way down South where Adam Brock says the roads are paved with Wal-Marts.  Love you Mom!  Make sure Dad stops repeating himself all the time, and tell Billy to move out of the house already!

love,
Jon

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Strange Matter - RVA

Ah, yes, Richmond, Virginia, "The Butt Hole of Virginia", "The Capital of the Confederacy".  There was a time in my life where I referred to Richmond as the "shitty version of Philadelphia", but that experience was based on a situation that involved me sleeping on the shittiest floor on the planet for a month because I was jump off a bridge depressed about a girl back in Charlottesville.  Oh that, and because all I ate was microwaved eggs and the Baja Bean didn't wanna hire me because I "sounded like a pussy".  But It's totally not shitty!  For one thing, in 2004, Philly was rated the 6th most dangerous city in the country, whereas Richmond was way safer at 9th!  It's also easier to fit in!  All you need to do is love the shit out of metal, where black, have tats & piercings, and eat at 7-11 at least TWICE a day.  Vice has lots of nice things to say about Richmond, and I'm preeeeeetty sure those dudes are never wrong.


One of the coolest parts about Richmond(aside from the fact you're pretty much walking around in Suicidegirls.com) is a bad ass restaurant/venue/arcade called Strange Matter.  This place is pretty crucial for touring bands, not only because the food is absolutely delicious, but because there's a full arcade in this jam piece! When you're on the road, sometimes you end up at the venue early and have to sit around doing nothing(unless you have an offensive fod blog)for hours, but this place doesn't "joy-stick penis"* you at all.  Motherfuckers' got Paperboy, Marvel Vs. Capcom, and even MOTHERFUCKING ALTERED BEAST.  If you're a male 20something, there's no way in hell you didn't waste hours of your life on that game.


Oh!  It looks like B-rock and Deaner are gonna squeeze in a round of Aliens Vs. Predator before a few rounds of Who's in B-rock's Mouth!  C'mon, you two, there are ladies here.  And by ladies, I mean the smooooking fine bartender.  I think she might have been flirting with me?  Or was it one of those "srsly dude, she's just being nice to you.  Now go home and beat off into a sock."  Either way, she was a sweetheart.  Great Service!  FOOD!


So my new year's resolution this year was too start eating meat again!  I figured since I work out like a fucking professional athlete that I'd start eating whatever the hell I want.  That, and I just look too cool when I smoke to quit. So although SM's menu has a kind-of focus on vegetarian and vegan stuff, I decided to go with a not so little dude called "The Pilgrim's Progress".  Turkey.  Stuffing.  Gravy.  Cranberry Sauce.  On a  god damn hoagie roll.  How the fuck do you think it tasted!?  If my taste buds had dicks, they would've all just gotten sucked off.  For my side, I went with fruit salad, and they get bonus points for having mango in that shit.  That should become a new standard.  Not pictured are the french fries, which are hand cut  8.9 BNM french fries.  Well done, dudes!

For dessert, I had a(by "a", I mean 5) "Hatchet Man(men)".  Which is vodka, and orange-pineapple Faygo(the Juggalo soda).  It was a Miracle!  Speaking of hatchets, the other day I heard some dude refer to a vagina as a "hatchet wound".  How rude is that shit?

So bands:  you get a free pitcher of PBR, half off on the food, unlimited Paperboy, and the sound there is pretty awesome.  Pair that with a bunch of girls who's hero is probably Sasha Grey, then I'd file this destination under "MUST".

Strange Matter is located at 929 West Grace St in the Fan discrict of Richmond, about an hour from Charlottesville, where one time this chick dragged me into one of my buddys' kitchen and molested the crap out of me, and then later I found out she had a boyfriend who worked at a diner in... Richmond.  dun Dun DUUUN!!!


*Joy-stick Penis:  v.  to grab a boner, and wiggle it around like a joy-stick, instead of like, you know, stroking    it.  You know, like you're supposed to.