Friday, March 2, 2007

I'm not sure I can ever look at Totally the same way again.

When we wake up in the morning, we realize it's Friday and Heavy.com should have our latest Contraband video up for the world to see. Contraband is this rad contest where we made a video every week for like 16 weeks, whereby people get to get to meet us and see what we're all about and give us their support by viewing the videos a lot, because at the end, the band with the most total views gets a lovely fantastic prize which we promise not to spend all on one hooker. I think Totally's cinematic contribution very well sums up what the Bling Kong spirit is all about:



All of a sudden I want to go to the KFC on the corner...and I'm vegetarian, so what gives?

Anyway, any day you get to start by saying "Damn, we are so awesome" is a good day indeed. I can't really understand Sizzler's spider monkey description over the phone of what he, Totally, and the Parlour Boys were up to after our show...something about a dance party, shenanigans...but it sounds like the Parlour Boys are party casualties. Not bad for a night's work, boys. Hope you're well enough for fun in your hometown.

We're all thrilled to be coming back to Lexington. Mikey and everyone at the Dame were so awesome to us in October, and now we hear the show is almost sold out. The Parlour Boys, headlining tonight, enjoy a really touching amount of hometown love.

Adding to our excitement for the show is that it's only a 3 and a half hour drive from Columbus! We have time to have a proper soundcheck on the Dame's fucking fantastic sound system, and have a nice relaxing sit-down meal at Taste of Thai across the street.

Dude, if this is what Thai tastes like, you might want to steer clear. My pad thai was rather lackluster, Milkshake found a hair on her plate, and there was NO BEER--it was on the menu, but not on the premises. I will be a secret fatty for Thai food for the rest of my life, but this made me deeply sad. Shave my hair off, write 666 on my forehead, run around screaming 'I am the antichrist!' before being beaten down by the hospital staff kind of sad.

A gaggle of local brosephs think I can't tell who's yelling 'BROOKLYN, SON!' at me while I retrieve my bass from its road case--the first and only static we recieve. He thinks he's being really cute and throwing lots of shade, and judging by his friends' giggles, they do too. It makes me feel weirder than I would have ever expected. Maybe it's just because we've gotten so much love that it seems antithetical to LEXINGTON in my mind. I know the bar will love me as much as I need, though. The Dame doesn't do drink tickets, which is all well and good because they let bands drink for cheap as fuck. My Basil Haydens are $2 all night!

We manage to rally back from dinner sadness and have a really fun show. Proper rockin', even, as judged by Steakbomb and Shredder. The audience wants Baby Blue to go home with Bling Kong and then have a three-way with Snake Dawg to try and save the relationship, so I get to sing my song at the very end of the set. It's fun to play frontwoman for five minutes. Brooklyn Son makes his way to the front of the stage as we're saying our goodbyes, shouting. I look right at him. "Brrrrrroooklyn. Son."

We change back into our civvies and dance it up for the Parlour Boys' set. More Basil Hayden ensues. Hijinks are occurred. We're dancing, and then Shredder opens the door to the van: "Boxy, wake up. You have to go inside or you'll freeze." I don't remember leaving the club. The following morning, I don't remember getting to Chez Parlour, either. From what I can vaguely remember and piece together after the fact, Milkshake got really excited that the Boys have Guitar Hero, and only Steakbomb realized how much bourbon I had, headed me off at the pass, and put Boxy Brown to bed. I fail at rock and roll! Isn't that supposed to be when all the fun happens? But thanks to SteakMom for watching out for my bourboning. I'm only mad at myself for partying it up so much with Mr. Hayden that I missed (to the best of my knowledge) chilling with the Parlour Boys and looking like this while playing Guitar Hero:



But god damn it. $2. $2.00. Can you really blame me?

Labels: bourbon, lexington, tour

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Thursday, March 1st, 2007

I am maxing and relaxing on the most awesome beach. It is warm and sunny, and my paleness gleams in the sunlight. I turn over to work on an even tan, and I see Totally out of the corner of my eye running full speed towards me.

"Box, wake up. Need to get the new trailer from U-Haul." It is a cold morning in da Jerz. Fuuuuck.

We get all that mess taken care of with Sizzler, and return victorious to the motel, where we are greeted with hot Dunkin Donuts breakfast. I need to find me a wifey so I get more of that action.

It's a long drive to Columbus, but we're excited. The show is going to be rad, plus we always seem to find ways to entertain ourselves. We've had various medical maladies. One of us recently had an unceasing nosebleed causing said person to be admitted to the hospital, and it is shared with us that what precipitated the hospital admission was throwing up two toilet bowls full of blood. "Clumpy clots," to be exact. Sounds tasty, doesn't it?

"Honey Bunches of Clumpy Clots?"
"No, Clumpy Bunches of Clots."
"Count Clotula!"
"Lucky Clots."
"Frosted Mini Clots"
"Clot Krispies!"

MMM, god are we good at putting off our appetites. What also puts off a few appetites (but certainly not mine) is the Dreamgirls song breaks we seem to keep breaking into, generally in connection with Cocksucker's iPod.

"When Jennifer Hudson won that Oscar, I half expected her to thank 'YOU and YOU and YOU'..." Totally chuckles.

For the rest of tour, "YOU and YOU..." becomes just a part of the landscape, with various things replacing "You're gonna love me" at the end, including My Little Pony, whatever snacks we are putting in our grill, whatev. Steakbomb even gets his own version: "Au JUS Au JUS Au JUS..."

Clearly, we can keep ourselves entertained for a long time. All the way to Columbus from Jersey, in fact. The last time we were in Columbus was in October for our glorious evening at the Bling Ball (see October 2K6 Tour Diary Part 5/5). Though this show isn't exactly the Wexner Center, it's Little Brother's, a good sized venue. It's a long hard drive through Pennsylvania (thank you, Vangina, for not shitting the bed this time through!), but when we see the stage at Little Brother's, it's all worth it. It's huge! I haven't been so pleasantly surprised by such hugeness since my third date with my last steady boyfriend.

Also making the trip worth making is meeting our new best friends, the Parlour Boys. Mikey at the Dame introduced Totally and Sizzler our last time through Lexington, and they lent their regional success to our cause by basically booking this tour with us and for us. They've just signed to a label, and it is only a matter of time before the world begins asking them how much a moustache ride costs these days.

Their van (with their own non-crippled U-Haul trailer) is already parked along Little Brother's loading alleyway when we get there, so we get to meet the shadowy figures behind the impressive tour schedule immediately. What astoundingly nice boys. What are they doing on a three-date tour with us?

Once load-in is through, the kittens no longer need to be herded, so away they go. The bar hooks me up with a free bottle of booze cider called Hardcore. For one evening, drinking like a little bitch is totally hardcore. Milkshake and Boobs do their hair. Shredder, Cocksucker, Cocksucker's brother, Steakbomb, and I are huuungry. The opening band, Hugs And Kisses, intrigued us with their stage setup, including a toilet. Say wha? I think the Parlour Boys may have described it best. In their words: "Holy shit. this group hugs and kisses is a complete theatrical production about the loss of some dope sneakers. there is a talking toilet, pig masks, a devil, and some great songs. we love playing w/ bands like this..."

The Parlour Boys themselves played a rad set of super danceable poppy goodness. If the Killers could write more than four good songs per album, it might sound something like this set. This is going to be a fun few days.

Cocksucker's brother has offered to put us up for the night. He rocks. Totally and Sizzler want to go out drinking etc. with the Parlour Boys. After last night's I Never, we do not follow. We have to regenerate enough of a liver for the bourbon extravaganza that is Lexington, after all.

Labels: moustaches, tour

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Wednesday, February 28th, 2007

"Do you think keeping the hazard lights on is going to drain the battery?" Sizzler asks from the driver's seat.

"Nah," answers Cocksucker. "It takes very little power. Besides, what are you going to do, turn them OFF?"

Cocksucker raises a good point. We are, after all, on the shoulder of the New Jersey Turnpike. It's closing in on 10 PM, it's been dark since we left Brooklyn, and we'll be dead for sure if those four-way flashers go off. Though morale is very low--having to cancel the first gig of your four-night tour will do that--we don't actually want to die.

Speaking of four-way flashers, I'm in the middle seat of the Vangina on hold with U-Haul's emergency hotline. For once, what is stranding us isn't the 'gina. We heard a loud and foreboding THUNK followed by worried looks at Sizzler and around the van followed by "oh god pull over the wheel came off the trailer." After careful inspection it was determined that, indeed, one of the two wheels managed to detach itself from the trailer full of our gear. Apparently the display of sparks made by the axle against the pavement was truly impressive. I was too busy wetting my pants to notice.

It was rough getting out of Brooklyn, too. I was two hours late to load-out with the van and trailer because the first couple trailers I tried to get from U-Haul were no good, and I had to wait for some rewiring before I could leave the premises with something we could put our lives in for a week. Then the first gas station we tried to patronize didn't have any freaking gas. Then the BQE was chock full o'asshats, and the chains on the trailer hitch started dragging on the pavement (at least in a BQE parking lot, you can hop out and fiddle with stuff and not die). We had come to terms with the fact that we would be missing soundcheck in Wilmington, DE, but so long as we made it there for our 11 PM set time, we'd be okay.

Prank on you, Bling Kong! No show for you!

Trucks are buzzing by with alarming proximity to us so I freak out and continue to be on hold from outside the van. At this point a dashing member of the highway patrol comes to our aid (yet again!), sets up flares, and calls a tow truck. Since the turnpike is a private road, the highway patrol has to radio for a tow (motorists, take note!) and U-Haul will have to meet us at the tow yard. As he parts, with a wink and a smile: "I've got to run now, just heard a report of a wheel on the side of the road down a piece here."

He tells me to get back in the van. So we chill. And chill. And chill some more. FINALLY, the tow truck shows up, just as the flares are starting to go out. They're a little gruff with Cocksucker, and look a teensy bit frightening.

"That's the sort of guy who would fuck you in the ass with your pants on," says Milkshake.

Boobs Garcia carefully considers. "Yeah. That's the kind of guy who makes holes."

"STAY IN THE TRUCK," he bellows at Cocksucker as he climbs back into the shotgun seat. Please, no one point out the obvious. Sizzler helps supervise the uncoupling of the trailer from the 'gina, with much rocking of the van ensuing. We make sounds of coupling to pass the time, and well, come on, they set that one up so well we couldn't NOT take it.

Eventually the trailer comes free and they give us the go-ahead to get the heck out, but first, the address of where they're taking us. Which is, of course, different from the address the highway patrolman gave me, which is the address I gave U-Haul. I spend another 20 minutes of my life on hold. Eeeeeaaaaaauuughghrhrrhghghhgh. Another tow truck pulls up alongside us. Perhaps our fabulousness makes people nervous? I can see dimly through the fog on the windows that the word "Beaver" appears prominently in the title of the tow company. Finally letting me off hold, U-Haul says they'll come out in the morning. Rad. So we're stuck at one of the lovely motels off the turnpike exit. The tow dudes say they can take it from here, so we drive off to the next exit.

Cocksucker, Totally, and myself chill at the tow garage while the rest of the crew run a reconnaissance mission for lodging and hooch. It is sad hanging at the tow garage waiting for your gimpy trailer to gimp its ass over on the back of a tow truck. Fucking vangina, huh? Soon 'gina, band, and trailer are reunited and of course there were things missed out on. Apparently our chosen motel is protected by "abject poverty." Don't believe me? You're in luck, you don't have to (photo / Milkshake):

A bar sells us some booze and we have ourselves a rad party (BK to front desk clerk: "Where's the nearest liquor store?" Front desk: "Oh, you guys don't need a liquor store"). It's time for a rousing game of I Never (otherwise known as Never Have I Ever)!

Everyone goes around in a circle saying something that they haven't done like so: "I Never (or Never Have I Ever)...strapped on a dildo to bone someone in the ass." Then, anyone who has indulged someone's penchant for pegging has to drink and are thus outed. For those of you playing at home, see if you can pin the skeleton on the Bling Kong member! Drag, watersports, foot play, passed-out girlfriend's hand. I start to wonder if people are saying things they have to drink to because they have a story about it that they want to tell. Or just because they want an excuse to drink the day away faster. Either way, it's entertaining.

I'm the first to say uncle and retreat to the girls' hotel room to sleep. Gotta save my up all night drunken antics for Lexington, after all. I'm so excited to be repeating the three best cities on the October tour, but having a serious venue upgrade in Cleveland. There was so much great feedback from people and press and record stores the last time out, it makes me feel all excited inside. Here's to three more rad nights.

Labels: beer, tour, vangina

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