Untitled Because I Can't Think Of Anything Witty

After an uncomfortable attempt to take a nap I now find myself hung over, cranky, hungry and headed towards Bristol for day three of Polar Bear Club’s UK tour with Ruiner and Defeater. I’ve borrowed Goose’s Ipod since all I have on this tour is my mother’s Shuffle (thanks, Kate!). So now you know where I’m at, tell me what you’re doing, my dear reader. Oh stop, I don’t want to know. We can all agree I only care about myself and my drink.

This morning I was looking at my blog and noticed there haven’t been many updates recently or in general. The last thing I ever want to do is write. Or move. In fact, my only current interests are Sex And The City episodes on my computer and snacking. I absolutely do not wish to accomplish anything. I suppose it’s this attitude that has landed me surrounded by eight dudes, forced to sleep standing up with the gentle tug of nausea and vomit at the back of my throat. My lack of comfort is your reward so here we go.

This tour can already be deemed a personal success because I did not pass out in the aisle of the plane unlike our last trip over the ocean. While once again I did get drunk before our flight, I decided to switch it up and not take sleeping pills as well. This was my key to avoiding another public humiliation. Ok, break time from writing, I’m getting car sick. And we’re back! The lot of us arrived in London around 10pm this past Friday. I must say my now favorite airline is Continental based solely on the in-flight television choices. At my disposal were episodes of Friends, Scrubs, and House – all three of which I watched. Everyone else in PBC watched He’s Just Not That Into You, well, except for Goose whose television was broken and this small detail made me smile wide. Goose can be a mean little man child who WILL say terrible things about one’s mother. Be on your toes.

Let us fast forward a couple days mostly because I forgot I even started an entry. Here we are now in Birmingham, UK and it’s been a couple of great days. Kingston, Bristol and Brighton were all great shows put on by great promoters. I haven’t been behind the merch table since we brought along our friend Tom who has dutifully handled the aspect I avoid most tours. The cluster fuck of the tour was clearly in Leeds where PBC, Ruiner and Defeater all played Slam Dunk Fest. If you’re unfamiliar with Slam Dunk, it’s basically a one day Warped Tour that goes all day and night. This particular year, the fest took place on a college campus with bands playing in different rooms all within the same building. For some reason kids here actually give a damn about Cobra Starship and Anti Flag so the event brought in over 5,000 people. This was the first time I had been on university ground since early 2002 so I quickly declared myself “Big Man On Campus” (aka B.M.O.C) and drank enough free beer to kill a fraternity president.

While pulling myself out of haze and stupor brought on by Heineken as well as underage hot girls, I managed to catch PBC’S full Slam Dunk set which went over splendidly. The room PBC played in had at least 125-150 on lookers. Stage barriers seem to be common place at shows over here in England so like any event where Goose is involved there was a touch of awkwardness. While I absolutely intended to catch Ruiner and Defeater that day there was just no way to maneuver around the building. If a fire had started, the Great White incident would have seemed like a carnival or birthday party in comparison - a birthday party with happy clowns, not the scary kind. So what I did instead was sit in the backstage room and take in my surroundings. Surroundings which included dudes using devices to straighten their hair as well as products to sculpt previously mentioned hair. Hardcore lives.

Over the process of this entire week Emmett, PBC’S drummer, developed either another testicle in his wrist area or perhaps was bitten by a spider because he has a large growth/infection near one of his hands. Personally, I hope he was attacked by a spider whilst sleeping because it’s always been my dream to witness an obscene amount of arachnids crawl out of Emmett, it’s just who I am. Either way, Emmett has been in pain this entire tour. No, not the pain brought on by unrequited feelings for his tour manger – actual physical issues. The goiter/spider nest got so bad that he had to be brought to a hospital today, the night of our show in Birmingham. Basically, Emmett is going to be ok but just to be on the safe side, he won’t be performing tonight. Thankfully, Defeater’s drummer Andy is filling in for a couple songs along with our merch dude Tom who will handle the rest of the lot. While the set will be shorter, I don’t think the 25 kids who actually showed up tonight will mind too much. Adding to the uncomfortableness is a stage barrier as tall as Jimmy’s ego. In fact, I’d rather have my parents catch me touching myself (again) than sit through tonight any longer. On the bright side, I’m now camped out at the merch table, drunk and bored enough to actually ramble on a bit.

But here’s hoping Emmett starts to feel better. Even though him and I fight the most out of anybody and even though he used to live in my ex girlfriend’s vagina for awhile, I guess he’s grown on me these last five or six years. And speaking of growing, I’m in love with all the Defeater guys – mostly because more than half of them booze it up. Plus, they’re all attractive dudes, especially Shitty Dan Yemen aka Mike. Sure, all of Ruiner is also fantastic dudes but Rob scares me more than my credit rating and student loan debt combined. So here’s to the rest of tour where my quests to either marry or impregnate a slightly chubby girl with an accent continues. The following is a list of my top 3 bands Polar Bear Club has toured with. This list will change the world and break the hearts of others.

1. Broadway Calls – Ask anyone in PBC, I can’t remember anyone’s names. It’s due to brain damage brought on by excessive drinking but I guess that’s not a reliable excuse. Broadway Calls is a three piece and only travel with one other person. Thankfully, I can handle four names. Well, no, not right by now but maybe later tonight. The easy list of names accompanied with lead singer Ty being the type of guy you want to move to New Hampshire and start a life with put Broadway at the top.

2. Living With Lions – As I’ve mentioned in a previous entry, Lions party as if it’s their last night on earth. No, I don’t remember any of their names but last tour we did with them, one of them smuggled a condom of weed across the Canadian border just for the story. That sounds like something I would do if a.) I did any type of drug or b.) ever used a condom in my life.

3. Anybody not named The Swellers.

Back To The UK!

So we're leaving early tomorrow to go do this! Excited to see our friends again, tour with two great bands, and spend money I don't have! Lots of new US tour dates up at www.myspace.com/polarbearclub, check it out! Oh, I'm sure you heard that Strike Anywhere signed to Bridge 9 as well, stoked! You know who should tour together soon......hmmmm

Here's What I Remember...

Las Vegas is a hell hole. A hell hole I could find myself spending the next 30 years of my life in, if I wasn't going to choke on my own vomit within two years. Sure, it's hot as fuck but in my fantasy life in Vegas I'm a complete shut in. Days are spent in a large hotel suite surrounded by mountains of fast food wrappers, empty whiskey bottles, and prescription pills. Wait, trade the hotel suite for my room at my parent's house and I think we're talking the same thing. Even my fantasies are depressing.

So our time spent in Las Vegas wasn't that different from the sad and horrific fantasy described above except that it was the complete opposite. The actual show in Vegas brought out around fifty or so kids to see all the bands. I can understand the low turnout, in Vegas there are more important things to spend money on such as whores and booze. Plus, PBC has only played the area once before so all in all, the show went over quite well. While at the show, both Living With Lions and Bi-Polar Bear Club decided to go in on a cheap hotel in order to get to know each other a bit more sinfully. Two rooms were booked for seventy five dollars apiece - one room for each band. Everything was done online so we had no idea exactly how big or how small the rooms would actually be. Personally, I was hoping the quarters were so tight that I'd have to use Goose as a mattress or blanket. I love young dudes. Moving on...

Rolling into the hotel, Bally's, like a pack of rabid hobos, we waited for Emmett to check us in. Excitedly he told us that our rooms had been upgraded for some reason I forgot to inquire about. It was for free so I didn't much care, I'm not a details person. It was time to get upstairs in order to see what awaited us. Unlocking the door, PBC were greeted with a room that was bigger than my house. And by my house, I mean my parent's house. A quick scan of the room revealed a view that overlooked the main strip, a bar, multiple televisions and enough couches to house every member of the band and myself. The room stretched on for as far as the eye could see and the best part was we had only seen half of place! Heading down a hallway led us to a king size bed, more couches, another television, a tub, shower, bathroom and a bidet for Goose! All of this for 75 dollars! The joke of the night was that we were living like Motley Crue circa 1988 and made a grand total of 80 bucks at the show earlier in the night.

I don't ever gamble, I already have too many addictions but this night I felt the gentle tug of Gamblor at my wallet. Heeding the call, a couple of us quickly went to a casino that was selling one dollar margaritas. Once again, I was doing something I usually don't do which is drink shitty frozen drinks but I needed to feel loose and pretty before giving away my last twenty dollars to either a blackjack dealer or slot machine. So after a quick taste, it was off to Living With Lion's casino of choice, Harrah's. While that crew bellied up to a blackjack table I took my spot at a penny slot machine. Being the infant that I am, I'm attracted to noisy, shiny, tall things so the choice was obvious. Nate was kind enough to explain the rules of the game as well as sit next to me at the other gambling machine. I put a dollar in and about 45 minutes later I was up 25 dollars. On the other hand, Nate hadn't won a god damn cent but he felt the need to tell me how much he hated me for accumulating a tiny fortune. I attempted to explain to him a person such as myself who has been cursed with male pattern baldness and the penis size of a Ken doll, deserved a little luck but he clearly wasn't hearing any of it. Who the hell knows where he stormed off to. Actually, who the hell knows where I went because the next thing I knew it was nine am, I was in the king sized bed alone, I stunk of cigarettes, stripper, bile, and bad decisions. My 25 dollars I had won earlier was long gone and all I had to show for it was a blaring headache and a ever expanding beer gut. I blame it all on Living With Lions. Two hours later we were on our way to Phoenix, Arizona.

Ah, Phoenix. Your 107 Fahrenheit weather on a day where I was still drunk and slept only a couple hours is what really drew me to you. Well, actually, I was looking forward to the show since the last time PBC played the area, the show went over really well with at least 100 kids coming out. At that time we were on tour with Broadway Calls and Crime In Stereo but I liked our chances with Living With Lions even if they are filthy Canadians. Arriving a bit late due to issues that had nothing to do with being hungover, panic mode struck when the promoters explained to us that not only did the venue lack any type of power or electricity but the whole city block was out as well. With no time table whatsoever as to when power would be restored, all we could do was wait it out and hope for the best possible outcome. Sure, events like this happen all the time but I think we were all hoping for a relaxing last day of tour.

Thankfully, the show was booked by really great promoters who with the help of a lot people, were able to move the show to another venue. In fact, the new venue was actually the same as the venue we played last time. (This paragraph is going to have the word venue in it a lot.) Unfortunately, changing show locations meant the first two opening bands weren't able to play due to the show also now starting much, much later. But when life hands you lemons, I like to make lemonade. By this I mean, there was a bar really, really close to where we were now so Trevor sauntered over and tied on a legitimate buzz. So at least we have that. Fifty or so kids were sincere and kind enough to stick around for a show that was now starting about three hours later than it should have. So, kids and Phoenix promoters - thank you.

I'd love to tell how you the actual show went but I was nowhere to be found. I wasn't at the bar either. I was off sweating somewhere, who knows, maybe the merch table. What I can tell you is that I was dreading the end of the show. Not only would Polar Bear Club be saying goodbye to our new best friends in Living With Lions, some of us would begin a 40 hour drive straight back to our homes in Rochester/Syracuse, New York. Why? Well, Mother's Day was coming up. Emmett, myself, Goose, and Jimmy were all shot out of vagina's so we were nominated to head back home on the suicide mission. Nate was flying to New York right after the show in order to see his very talented girlfriend receive a prestigious award for journalism (Hi, Jazzy!). Chris Browne was either hatched or developed in a lab so he was to stay in Phoenix. He may or may not be there still. I hope to write about our trek back home within the next couple of days but the weekend is coming up and you know that's when Daddy plays. (Most unsettling sentence ever written?). I'd like to think the best part of that tale is me getting behind the wheel of a van and trailer for the first time in five years. Talk to you then.

I'm Too Old For This God Damn Shit

I’ve spent the last 45 minutes trying to connect to this person’s internet. I am my father, minus the heart condition. Technology now confuses, enrages, and saddens me. Here I be in Los Angeles, typing away at a Microsoft Word document hoping that someday the internet will return to me. Instead of sending very important business emails (saying hi to my mom), Trevor finds himself listening to the Archers Of Loaf and telling himself this is the day he finally stops drinking and smoking. Per usual, I am the only person up even though I wish I wasn’t. A quick turn of my head to the left reveals a slumbering Nate Morris who is snoring and wheezing away like a basketball slowly losing all its air.

I flew in to Seattle two nights before our mini tour with Living With Lions actually began. I met up with Polar Bear Club who was putting their finishing touches on their latest full length which as of now is still untitled. (My vote is for either” Led Zeppelin V” or “He Who Is Sick of Weird Al Is Sick Of Life” but no one tends to listen to the alcoholic) These boys have spent the last month or so holed up together in very tiny quarters smelling each other, hating each other and recording a song or two. I knew if I disturbed their habitat chaos would ensue. You ever hear about how scientists or anthropologists sometimes stumble upon a civilization that has been untouched by the outside world for thousands of years? Well, this was the same think except not at all. So I just peered in to take a look at the barbarians and luckily I wasn’t spotted and nothing was thrown at my beautiful face.

Earlier in the tour, whilst boozed up, apparently I declared myself the only living party animal left. Nate tells me I slurred a pretty boastful line claiming that “I’m the only party animal here, the rest of you are extinct.” Well, this animal needs to be euthanized. Tonight, I feel like someone sucked out my insides through a crazy straw. I absolutely refuse to drink or party tonight and it’s all the fault of Living With Lions. They’re either too young or too Canadian. I just can’t keep up. You can call me Slurms MacKenzie for I am partied out. Well, at least for tonight. Well, at least until the show is over. Well….

Our shows have been going over well with at least one hundred kids in attendance. Hanging out with familiar faces in Portland has been the highlight of my trip as of now. Meeting two of the nicest metal dudes of all time was an extra treat. New friends in Anaheim and Hollywood, especially the ones who bought me beer, also brought a rare smile to my mug. (Thanks Steinmoney, step up your game Felicia.) A couple more shows and then it's back home to the land of the futon and suicidal ideation!

Now earlier I mentioned that I was writing this really early in the morning and I had just woken up. That isn't true at all. The truth is that we're in Las Vegas, Nevada right now. It's about 90 degrees but don't worry, I'm dressed in long sleeves and a winter beanie. I gotta hide the shitty tattoos and the hairline of my grandfather. A large pair of sunglasses and an umbrella would probably protect my china doll like skin but that may be a tad bit ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the captain's hat Jimmy has been wearing. (Hollywood changes people) Soon, the show ends and I find me a hooker. Not for me. No, no, no. For you, my readers. Where's that beer?