Frustration, frustration. I hate this vacation.
Three cities, five concerts and a whole week of Snow Patrol - one would think that I would have a lot to say. Turns out, not so much.
Santa Barbara was miserable from beginning to end. Highlights include: La Super Rica for lunch, Ma and Pa Hawthorne and their giant road atlas, pina colada slurpees on the way home. Lowlights include: everything else. Crappy venue management, crappy security, crappy motherfucking drunken Irish mob. I have a very vivid memory of poor Nathan singing to me and trying to cheer me up during "Set the Fire" and me barely managing to be able to crack a smile back at him, but the rest is all a blur. "There's no crying at Snow Patrol!" "I don't want them to WIN!" "FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUUUUUCK!!! Who is your boss?" There is nothing that could get me to go back to the Santa Barbara Bowl. I don't care if *NSYNC is getting back together for one final show and JC will pick a bride from the crowd. Fuck it, I am never going back there.
Vegas was better. Massive amounts of alcohol might have had something to do with it. It's pretty damn nice to have a hotel room at the place where you're seeing a show. Although the stupid venue people would not let us line up early, which caused all sorts of undue stress. It did allow us to watch the boys gamble and snap a few pics with them, though. I don't know how we did it, but managed to be the first ones in. All I remember is running down 80 million flights of stairs like I was in some sort of horror movie. Made friends and drank a lot of courvoisier. Had a big group sing/sway-along to "Chasing Cars," much to Gary's amusement. Had strangers comment on how much Steve from Hot Hot Heat was staring at me. What do you expect? I'm the only one singing along here. Got the evil eye all night from the crazy screaming girl next to us when our new friends told her it was because we had both "had him." Bwahaha! I scored a JQ drumstick and MW scored an SP setlist after the show, but we did our karmic good deed of the day by handing them over to our new friend who was clearly pining after them.
Night 2 in Vegas was the Hot Hot Heat solo show at the Hard Rock. My biggest regret was not saying hello to the aforementioned Steve and Too-Tall Paul Hawley strolling about the casino earlier in the day. This is why I must be drunk at all times. Pinky swear that we will not do that again. No more missed opportunities! Won the roommate fifty bucks on one roulette spin. I hate gambling (although betting on the ponies was quite fun), but he always makes me do it. I love tequila. Tequila makes everything easier. Holy shit, deadly hot. Like, triple digits hot. For once, we gave up the front row and watched from the pool. Was kind of nice to actually hear the vocals and soak in the ambiance of it all. And not pass out from heatstroke.
Back home for a quick recovery then on to the final two LA shows. Concert partner-in-crime and self-professed Queen of YouTube was only in for the first LA show as she, apparently, has a life with other things to do. Whatever. Got there hella early, climbed the freaking mountain and sat in the hot sun all day only to find out at the last minute they had us line up in the wrong place. Caused a minor scene demanding to be first in line and actually got moved up to the front. Cannot believe all the pre-show trouble we have had this tour - we usually have that part on lock. I hate going to a new venue for the first time. Did more karmic good deeds by walking up to the very top of the venue and handing over our unused front section seats to two strangers. Come on down, it's your lucky day! Pretty magical show with lots of smiles, eye contact and, um, insects. Stage right is the place to be. Viva Team Pablo! MW is my hero and scored tons and tons of fantastic video. See? Steve was all up in my grill like that all week. And, whoa, that moment in "How To Be Dead." Yes, Gary, I know I am just that entrancing, haha. And yes, I have heard every single word you have said. Oh my god, indeed.
Hung around forever for one last chance to say hello to the boys and snap some pictures for MW's last show. We were the last two in line and totally got dissed by Jonny as he left right as we walked up for our turn. The hell? Why do these boys always make me feel like I carried a watermelon? "Jonny!" Gary begrudgingly offered to take pictures with us like it's some sort of huge hassle (don't strain yourself there, buddy) and literally stood there scratching his eye with his middle finger the entire time MW is with him. She has a picture of her with a giant "WTF, mate?" look on her face and Gary essentially flipping her the bird. It was simultaneously the funniest and saddest moment of the trip. I hate that her adventure had to end on that stupid note. I'm still mad at the limey bastard. I can't even fathom how I actually feel entitled enough to be mad at someone I didn't even know existed six months ago.
Went back for the final night alone. First in the queue, yet again. I am the champion of lining up. And lip syncing. If only they had such competitions, I suppose. Show was not nearly as good as the previous night and certainly not as fun without MW. Paquin is such a damn show off. But in a cocky bastard funny way. Where are the Hawthornes these days? Gary mentioned YouTube videos from the previous night that were already online - yeah, those would be ours. I honestly did not realize MW had gotten them up so quickly, but she later told me she made sure to get some up for me before her other trip so I would have something to tide me over. Thanks for alerting me (and the entire crowd) to them, Gary. Thank you also for doing The Move during TLF. You're still not forgiven. See you in a few years and I might be over it. Made a beeline for my car as I really wasn't in the mood for more obscene hand gestures.
So, there you have it. MW and I have decided that San Diego must have been some sort of full moon-induced fluke and Gary's continued arsey behavior is making it hard to stay on our Patrol high. Of course I'm still in it for the long run, but I am ready for them to go away for a while. Somebody clearly needs a break. In the meantime...my Pacific Northwest brethren Hot Hot Heat have my full attention. I already have plans to see them later this month and hear they have a headlining tour planned for later this year in support of their new album. Rock on.
Next up: another back-to-back pair of evenings at the Greek. This time we roll VIP-style with Crowded House (and our friends PY/Minibar, YAY!) and Wilco. I better start cramming now if I am to retain my lip syncing title.
Linkapalooza!
A few pictures here.
Videos galore here.
How "Flight of the Conchords" is ripped stright from our lives here.
Santa Barbara was miserable from beginning to end. Highlights include: La Super Rica for lunch, Ma and Pa Hawthorne and their giant road atlas, pina colada slurpees on the way home. Lowlights include: everything else. Crappy venue management, crappy security, crappy motherfucking drunken Irish mob. I have a very vivid memory of poor Nathan singing to me and trying to cheer me up during "Set the Fire" and me barely managing to be able to crack a smile back at him, but the rest is all a blur. "There's no crying at Snow Patrol!" "I don't want them to WIN!" "FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUUUUUCK!!! Who is your boss?" There is nothing that could get me to go back to the Santa Barbara Bowl. I don't care if *NSYNC is getting back together for one final show and JC will pick a bride from the crowd. Fuck it, I am never going back there.
Vegas was better. Massive amounts of alcohol might have had something to do with it. It's pretty damn nice to have a hotel room at the place where you're seeing a show. Although the stupid venue people would not let us line up early, which caused all sorts of undue stress. It did allow us to watch the boys gamble and snap a few pics with them, though. I don't know how we did it, but managed to be the first ones in. All I remember is running down 80 million flights of stairs like I was in some sort of horror movie. Made friends and drank a lot of courvoisier. Had a big group sing/sway-along to "Chasing Cars," much to Gary's amusement. Had strangers comment on how much Steve from Hot Hot Heat was staring at me. What do you expect? I'm the only one singing along here. Got the evil eye all night from the crazy screaming girl next to us when our new friends told her it was because we had both "had him." Bwahaha! I scored a JQ drumstick and MW scored an SP setlist after the show, but we did our karmic good deed of the day by handing them over to our new friend who was clearly pining after them.
Night 2 in Vegas was the Hot Hot Heat solo show at the Hard Rock. My biggest regret was not saying hello to the aforementioned Steve and Too-Tall Paul Hawley strolling about the casino earlier in the day. This is why I must be drunk at all times. Pinky swear that we will not do that again. No more missed opportunities! Won the roommate fifty bucks on one roulette spin. I hate gambling (although betting on the ponies was quite fun), but he always makes me do it. I love tequila. Tequila makes everything easier. Holy shit, deadly hot. Like, triple digits hot. For once, we gave up the front row and watched from the pool. Was kind of nice to actually hear the vocals and soak in the ambiance of it all. And not pass out from heatstroke.
Back home for a quick recovery then on to the final two LA shows. Concert partner-in-crime and self-professed Queen of YouTube was only in for the first LA show as she, apparently, has a life with other things to do. Whatever. Got there hella early, climbed the freaking mountain and sat in the hot sun all day only to find out at the last minute they had us line up in the wrong place. Caused a minor scene demanding to be first in line and actually got moved up to the front. Cannot believe all the pre-show trouble we have had this tour - we usually have that part on lock. I hate going to a new venue for the first time. Did more karmic good deeds by walking up to the very top of the venue and handing over our unused front section seats to two strangers. Come on down, it's your lucky day! Pretty magical show with lots of smiles, eye contact and, um, insects. Stage right is the place to be. Viva Team Pablo! MW is my hero and scored tons and tons of fantastic video. See? Steve was all up in my grill like that all week. And, whoa, that moment in "How To Be Dead." Yes, Gary, I know I am just that entrancing, haha. And yes, I have heard every single word you have said. Oh my god, indeed.
Hung around forever for one last chance to say hello to the boys and snap some pictures for MW's last show. We were the last two in line and totally got dissed by Jonny as he left right as we walked up for our turn. The hell? Why do these boys always make me feel like I carried a watermelon? "Jonny!" Gary begrudgingly offered to take pictures with us like it's some sort of huge hassle (don't strain yourself there, buddy) and literally stood there scratching his eye with his middle finger the entire time MW is with him. She has a picture of her with a giant "WTF, mate?" look on her face and Gary essentially flipping her the bird. It was simultaneously the funniest and saddest moment of the trip. I hate that her adventure had to end on that stupid note. I'm still mad at the limey bastard. I can't even fathom how I actually feel entitled enough to be mad at someone I didn't even know existed six months ago.
Went back for the final night alone. First in the queue, yet again. I am the champion of lining up. And lip syncing. If only they had such competitions, I suppose. Show was not nearly as good as the previous night and certainly not as fun without MW. Paquin is such a damn show off. But in a cocky bastard funny way. Where are the Hawthornes these days? Gary mentioned YouTube videos from the previous night that were already online - yeah, those would be ours. I honestly did not realize MW had gotten them up so quickly, but she later told me she made sure to get some up for me before her other trip so I would have something to tide me over. Thanks for alerting me (and the entire crowd) to them, Gary. Thank you also for doing The Move during TLF. You're still not forgiven. See you in a few years and I might be over it. Made a beeline for my car as I really wasn't in the mood for more obscene hand gestures.
So, there you have it. MW and I have decided that San Diego must have been some sort of full moon-induced fluke and Gary's continued arsey behavior is making it hard to stay on our Patrol high. Of course I'm still in it for the long run, but I am ready for them to go away for a while. Somebody clearly needs a break. In the meantime...my Pacific Northwest brethren Hot Hot Heat have my full attention. I already have plans to see them later this month and hear they have a headlining tour planned for later this year in support of their new album. Rock on.
Next up: another back-to-back pair of evenings at the Greek. This time we roll VIP-style with Crowded House (and our friends PY/Minibar, YAY!) and Wilco. I better start cramming now if I am to retain my lip syncing title.
Linkapalooza!
A few pictures here.
Videos galore here.
How "Flight of the Conchords" is ripped stright from our lives here.