Some Trevor And A Little Bit Of Jimmy

10/08/09 Cleveland Heights, Ohio

Kids, your father had a late night last night and needs his rest. If you as so much breathe heavily, I’m going to smack you and your sister in the mouth, you got it?

I’m hung-over as shit, nothing new there. Currently, I’m typing behind the merch table at a venue in Cleveland Heights named Grog Rock. This venue is actually a lot like the type of girl I’m attracted to – small, dirty, shitty and can fit a lot of dudes inside her.

(Trevor left his computer open at this point and I (JIMMY!!!!) took over the blog posting. So what’s new Internet? Have you missed me? I know you have. I’ll make this brief before Trevor comes back from smoking. Here’s what’s new with me. I really got into the show Tim and Eric on adult swim, I’m on a quest to beat every high-score in Pac-Man across the country and I miss my dog. Ahhhh here comes Trevor. Follow me on twitter JIMMYPBC. Trevor touched me and told me not to tell!!!!)

Jimmy’s short and rarely funny. Anyway, so here we are in Ohio. Last night we were in Pittsburgh and before that, well, I can’t tell you a thing. I may have mentioned before either through twitter or my diary here about how much I enjoy the city of Pittsburgh. I have a couple good friends that live there, it looks like it can take a good punch, and even though I’ve never experienced a hard days work in my life, I enjoy the city’s blue-collar exterior. All of that being said, shows in Pittsburgh fucking suck harder than my prom date with my best friend during Senior Ball. PBC have played a bunch of shows in Pittsburgh, in fact as recently as a couple weeks ago, and no one ever really gives a fuck. Venues ranged from an art space that a troll with gargoyle fingers lorded over to two separate churches that were far too large or had idiotic drinking provisions that kept each show nice, awkward and standoffish. The only reason I should be in a church is for my eventual funeral in 2010 so I insist PBC quit playing that city. What!? We’re coming back in November?! Fuck my dick!

(Trevor left me at the table again and thought closing his computer would stop me from doing this, it didn’t. Anyway, real quick, ten minutes ago I hid Trevor’s beer from him and stood a couple feet away to watch him look for it. WOW, I’ve never seen him more determined and hard working in my life. If his job consisted only of finding beers…wait a second… sincerely, average height and always funny guy)

God dammit, Jimmy. I’d like to point out that I left this time to restock merch, not to smoke again. It just so happens though I did have a smoke while doing that. Ok, moving on. Usually, after each Pittsburgh show PBC dudes stumble to some bar named Rugger’s where we drink to forget, order fried food, play punk music on the jukebox that Browne has never heard of and hang out with good friends (Dan Rock, holler!). So other than Mark, guitarist of Strike, calling me The Crypt Keeper, the night and tour is a total blast. After the bar closed we all climbed into Strike’s hobo wagon and tried to come up with reasons why Rob from Ruiner is so angry. I proposed the theory that Rob actually has some sort of tail that he’s embarrassed and shy about but that wasn’t the popular opinion. Some or all of this may not have actually happened or perhaps I'm just projecting, either way – so far, so good. Turnouts have been great, merch sales are up even with the worst t shirt idea of all time (see above), and the dudes in Strike Anywhere are old but certainly not partied out. However, next time you see Mark from Strike, please remind him Grunge is dead, he’s not in Pearl Jam, and long john’s on stage is never acceptable. Buy me a beer.