You Blew It! kicked off their winter tour a week or so ago, and the band has sent in their first Road Blog update to PropertyOfZack. Check it out below and come back in a few days for more! 

From Tanner Jones: 

Day 1: Jacksonville, FL
Right. First day of tour with Dikembe. I already feel drunk. 
We haven’t been to Jacksonville since we played in a half pipe somewhere. Something about this city makes me want to shred gnar that, as a chubby-legged child, I’ve never been able to shred.
Show was cool. I ate a burrito and drank beer and got bloated and burped the first couple songs, naturally. It’s Kendra’s birthday tonight and she got in a car accident for it. Don’t worry, she’s okay. Drunk though. Real drunk doe. 

Savannah, GA
Tonight on stage I said “stomp heads” and “fucking mosh” and “thanks for all the sissy bands for opening for us.” Those are all really funny because the bands that played before us were hard as hell. Like, diamond. Like, diamond plate tool boxes. Like, Diamond Dallas Page. Woof. Before that I drank a lot of beer outside with Dikembe. IN DA STREET. Savannah know how to party.

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It was such a pleasure having You Blew It! for a very lengthy summer Road Blog on PropertyOfZack, so we are sad to be posting the band’s final update for fans today. Check it out below and support You Blew It! in the future! 

From Tanner Jones: 

Day 31: Fort Worth, TX. 1919 Hemphill.

Tonight we got to hang out with some old friends in this band called Two Knights. They’re on this label called Count Your Lucky Sitars records. They’re good.

The show was at this place called 1919 Hemphill. It was two stories and it had a quarter pipe on the second floor. I really wish that I didn’t give up on skateboarding in 7^th grade, but Airwalks just weren’t cool enough. 

Day 32: Austin, TX. Red 7.

Check out this joke I just came up with. What has two thumbs, is sweaty as fuck, and is naked all the time? Nick Inman. Get it? It’s funny because it’s true. Anyways, we stayed in a hotel again last night. It’s weird how cool it is to not sweat. 

It’s been a long, long, long tour thus far, and I think we’re all starting to feel it. I haven’t shaved in almost an entire month, but you’d have no idea. I look like Spencer from The Hills, except when he was 14 or whatever. Does anyone even still get that reference? Is that still a legitimate thing that people can remember? We’ve been out for 31 days, you guys. I’m reaching for material. I’m reaching hard.

Anyways, we got our tire replaced today. That was nice. I keep calling the new tire a “pup.” You know, since it’s so young and new and stuff? I think I’m going insane.

Not too much later, we pulled into Austin and went straight to this spot on the Colorado River (yeah, in Texas) we had heard some pretty great things about. You guys, it had this cliff you could jump off of, and a rope swing, and water. It had lots of water. I promised him I wouldn’t write about it, but Evan had a hard time jumping off the cliff. We ended up getting the whole river to chant his name (I mean, the people on the river. Not the river itself. This isn’t Pocahontas or whatever). He finally jumped, but I think only one or two people clapped. It turns out people care more about chanting than they do about Evan. Rough stuff.

The show tonight was at this place called Red 7. Red 7 is a legit venue with lights and sound and is definitely contending for coolest place we’ve played on tour. This place had a backstage and free Monster Rehabs (okay I understand, Monster Energy. I know. We’re not dirt bikers or BMXers or wind surfers, but they were free). Brothers or Not opened it up, and that band is real good. They covered Flagpole Sitta too. I thought I knew the words to that song, but I don’t. I was drinking beers with Shane from Young///Savage and I’m pretty sure he noticed. It turns out I had a little too much, because apparently I talked a lot in between songs. Pswingset closed, and BROUGHT DOWN DA HOUSE. I like that band a lot. I like those guys a lot too. 

After the show we split from Red 7 with tour mama Diane Garcia. Tim was real drunk, and insisted that we go to Taco Bell. We did. We showed up, and that place was obviously closed. No lights, no open signs, no cars, nothing. I pulled up to the drive thru and pretended to order Tim’s meal. I did a real good job, because I even faked turning down Cinna Twists (they alwaysoffer Cinna Twists). Tim eventually found out and man, was that guy mad. 

Day 33: Lafayette, LA. The Ark.

So uh, the show wasn’t actually at The Ark. I just forget what the name of the place is. It was something about burgers. Jimmy’s Burgers? Burgers ‘n’ Stuff? Goodburger? I don’t know. Either way, it wasn’t half bad. It was probably the first time I’ve made friends with a bartender. She was nice. As far as shows go, though, this one was pretty run of the mill (which isn’t a bad thing). We mostly just hung out with friends from the last time we went through Lafayette and drank big beers. We were introduced to this band called Les Doux though. They’re pretty great. 

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 26: Cedar Falls, IA. The Space.
Today started off so forking great. Danielle and Alissa took us to the Nickelodeon theme park in Mall of America. Since Nickelodeon used to have Slime Time in Orlando, it was kind of like seeing an old ex for the first time since breaking up in what had to be the late nineties. Except she has roller coasters and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle rides so you’re totally not mad at her anymore. I made a ton of Mark Summers jokes, but either no one got them or no one thought they were funny. Probably the former, since my jokes are so radically sophisticated and tasteful that they go over most normies’ heads. Normies. 

We drove through probably every cornfield in the world. Spoiler alert: they all look the same. It’s just like, corn. That’s all it is. No sweet ass dance clubs, no laser tag places, no ice-skating rinks, no ferris wheels, just corn. Step up your ferris wheel game Iowa, for real. 

We were passing cornfield #4,000,000 when the GPS started indicating that we’d arrive in the venue in 10 minutes. Anywhere else, this means is you’ll actually get stuck in city traffic and arrive in something like 30 minutes. I looked up, and it was just all still corn. TMC (Too Much Corn ©ChrisFarren). I was 5 minutes into thinking the GPS was wrong when, unsuspectingly, out of the corn came Cedar Falls. It was like when your friend pops out from behind the bed to startle you, except it was Cedar Falls, IA and the bed was actually just a field of corn. I literally made two lefts and we were at the venue. It was cool. Step up your ease-of-navigation, other cities. Are you wearing your backpacks? Because Cedar Falls is schooling you.

Evan got a burrito big enough to sink The Burritotanic (terrible pun, whatever, give me a fucking break), and then we played our second show with Victor Shores. There were girls at this show. That was cool. That never happens to us. Also Andrew Johnson was cool (real rad gruff acoustic stuff). Big Sky was cool (sweet ass twinkly screamo). Also the venue was pretty hot, but I’ve already exhausted all of my “this venue was hot” material, so you’re just going to have to trust me on this one.
We drove to Rob Melville’s coldest basement in Earth, and saw the Milky Way. I turned into a wide-eyed little baby. Oh and also somehow I ended up on the futon while everyone was on the floor and Rob Melville’s mom called me King Shit of Turd Mountain.

Day 27: Springfield, IL. The Black Sheep Café
Sometimes on tour, literally nothing happens. You wake up, you drive, you get out, and you play a show. Today was one of those days. I could write about how we called a Chipotlé and how they wouldn’t give us free food, or how Andy bought a juice drink for 25 cents, but is that going to back up our rockstar talking-shit-about-stuff image? No. I’ve got to stir the pot.

As I stand on this sweaty van bench, I yell at the top of my lungs: IF YOU DON’T LIKE SO MUCH FOR THE AFTERGLOW BY EVERCLEAR YOU ARE PROBABLY JUST DUMB. Bring on the facebook comments. I’ll be waiting.

Anyways, I have nothing to complain about today. The Black Sheep Café treated us like gents, and the bands that played were great. We also stayed at the swankiest punk rock fortress in the Midwest. It had cable. We clearly utilized it for the better and watched Cops. 

Day 28: St. Louis, MO. The Barcade.
Speckled across this great country, there is a certain fast food haven that many dream of, but very few see. This place is called Fazoli’s. It serves Italian pasta, pizza, and butter and grease disguised as breadsticks. Once they start selling beer, Tim is renting a room in one of them. This wasn’t the only thing we did in St. Louis today, but I think Fazoli’s takes precedence over chronology (it’s okay, Taco Bell, you’re still our babe). 

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 21: Indianapolis, IN. Super Mega Slam Fest @ Indy Hostel
If you remember, I ended the last post with something about how we had no idea what to tweet back at Jordan Pundik. Well, we woke up and took a picture of a mouse on a motorcycle and captioned it “LET’S RIDE.” He didn’t respond.

We got to Indianapolis with like, a million hours to kill. I’m sure we could have done something productive (count merch, put our band funds into a bank account, tell each other how we feel), but we just ate Cajun food and farted around instead. One of the local papers/magazines wrote about the fest, and cited Dowsing and us as headliners. That was cool. I took one to give to my mom. Andy took one to put in his endless collection of things. Andy has a ton of things.

The Indy Hostel was pretty sweet. Our beer bros in Pessoa showed up, and Josh hugged me from behind. I was an idiot and accidentally palmed his cigarette. No one noticed though, so like, score.

Super Mega Slam fest Super Mega Slammed my brains. It might as well have been called Check Out All These Other Bands That Are Way Better At Their Instruments and Have Better Gear Than You Fest. I said, “dude!” to Andy a lot. I said that to Andy a whole lot.

We played under a tree filled with Souvenirs. I tried to shoot silly string at them in the middle of our set, but there’s something oddly uncool about thinking you know which way the canister is going to spray and being completely wrong. If I were not me I would have pointed and laughed at me.

The Indy Hostel ended up letting us stay in some of the bunk beds, so naturally Souvenirs lit off fireworks. Nick lit one off and it hit him in the eyeball. Not even just his eye, but his actually eyeball. How that dude isn’t in a cast yet is beyond me.

The bunks were in probably the darkest room ever. I’m pretty sure you’d be hard pressed to find a room darker than this one. We more or less formed a line with each other to guide ourselves through the room, but I was little bit behind. I saw which bed Vince from Souvenirs climbed into, so I decided to sleep on the bunk above him. As I climbed up the ladder, the bed shook in a very exaggerated way. As a man who thinks very highly of his minor practical joke ability, I started rocking the bed back and forth. I might have said “earthquake!” or something stupid like that too. After a couple seconds I fell into the bunk bed above him. I was pretty pleased with myself and how I had totally punk’d Vince until I heard him say from the other side of the room “hey Tanner, you can sleep over here if you want.” Horrified, I peered over the edge of the bed and discovered probably the angriest, most confused man I had never met before. I spent the next couple minutes wide-eyed while the rest of the guys farted and giggled. We left the next morning, avoiding eye contact with bottom bunk punk’d dude. 

Day 22: Grand Rapids, MI. The Daac.
Michigan! Home of some sports teams and that one Sufjan Stevens record. It’s a great state, but I will never forgive it for spawning that no-good poseur in Empire! Empire!. Ick!

We got to play with Duck, Little Brother, Duck and Octaves today. Prognosis on Octaves: LOUD. Fucking loud. It’s in the best way possible though. DLBD ruled too. We’ve never met those guys in person, and they’re just rays of sunshine. 

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 16: Toronto, ON. Parts & Labour
We had a pretty short drive today. One hour from Kitchener to Toronto. To put it into perspective, that’s only about 3 Empire! Empire! songs. We spend too much time sweating in the van, so only having to do that for 1/24 of your day is really sweet.
We pulled up to Parts & Labour, and of course Nick was already climbing shit. There was a garden on the roof, and he was skipping through it and singing. He yelled down at Tim that he would pick him some carrots, and then Tim said something about either killing himself or killing Nick. Either way, Tim fucking hates carrots. 
My grandma drove a couple hours to Toronto to meet and buy us lunch. That was really cool.
One thing I think most of us here in the states are familiar with is something called “punk time.” Punk time is the reason shows never start until 9pm even though doors were at 7pm. Punk time is the reason you missed Capsule at the Pianos Become the Teeth and Touché Amoré show in Orlando post-Fest. Punk time sucks. With that being said, we were all in the venue on our laptops around doors, prepared to kill punk time when, 30 minutes after doors, the room was filled up. As a band, you hear stories like these. You always have a friend whose sister was dating some guy in a band that played a basement show that people showed up to on time, but you never believe them. You just go “oh wow,” and change the subject to Breaking Bad or something. Well, now we’re those guys. One day in the far future, Tim’s girlfriend’s best friend’s brother is going to be telling his band friends about how we played a show in Toronto absent of punk time, and they’ll call him a jerk for trying to seem cool in front of hologram Rachel McAdams IV. What a little entitled douche. Absence of punk time ended up meaning nothing though; because the restaurant upstairs pushed the show back an hour or so after everyone was already there. Lame.
Once everything got started, the show was a lot of fun. The very, very nice dudes in !ATTENTION! let us take their time slot, and use their cabs. Those guys are punk gentlemen. Canadian punk rock royalty. Listen to them.
Oh! James from Kitchener showed up to the Toronto show too. Man, that guy is the coolest.

Day 17: Rochester, NY Batavia, NY. 
Today we were talking about the van breaking down, and Evan said something along the lines of “well it’s not like anything is going to happen right on the border.” Bad, bad call dude. We had to be within a kilometer (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) of the border and Niagara Falls when I heard that terrible, terrible deflated thumping sound with every rotation of the tires. We pulled over to the side of the road, and our driver’s side rear tire was as deflated as my ego when Mary Spohr told me I was too ugly to play spin the bottle in 4^th grade. We pulled all the gear out, jacked the van up in all the right places (wink), and then we noticed the suspension was causing the rear axel to sag just enough to keep us from getting the spare on. Luckily enough, a really great guy named Rick pulled over and lent us an extra jack. Captain Canada (you know, like Captain America, but like, not), I figured if those NASCARs could switch out all four of their tires in like 13 seconds, I could do it in 15. Nope. 45 minutes later we were parking at Niagara Falls. It was big, crowded, and misty. That’s all I have to say about that. 
Tours are kind of tricky for a couple different reasons. One of them being cancellation of shows. A lot of times it’s like enjoying a Dane Cook special. You don’t think that it will happen to you, but somehow always does (admit it). Well, it happened to us sort of. The promoter in Rochester was super, super flakey and the show ended up just kind of fizzling out. We threw up a help request on facebook, and ended up being added to someone’s “backyard bonanza.” The show was originally for two power pop-punk bands, but one of the locals dropped, so some room opened up last minute.
We pulled up to the show, and things immediately got odd. Two conversion vans not unlike ours pulled up with dudes hanging out of the windows and waving dildos in the air. Immediately I thought “goddamnit.” Then I realized that’s almost exactly what we look like. Shit.
The bands climb out of the vans, professional tour laminates hanging from their karabiners. Good thing, or else I’m sure the door guy security guard wouldn’t have let them backstageyard. The show starts, and it’s already clear that it’s not going to last long. I like loud, but this thing was loud. It was also a Monday afternoon in the backyard of a sleepy residential area. To literally no one’s surprise, by the third band, the cops shut it down. Not before wireless-guitar-input-system band got to play though. Don’t get me wrong, they were a talented band, (they even took the shortcut to my heart by doing an NFG cover) but they had synchronized head banging. I also saw more stick tricks in one set than I did throughout the entire 2006 Warped Tour. Maybe I’m just getting old though. I think I’m just getting old. 

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 11: Lowell, MA. The Ant Cellar - 
Today we did nothing. We went to the B9 Warehouse, put pictures of it on Instagram, and rode razor scooters. The show was cool. My Fictions was a loud band. Kevin Duquette was a drunk human. Ant Cellar 4 lyfe.

Day 12: DAY OFF JULY FOURTH.
WELCOME TO EARTH. Day 5 in Boston. Andy and I spent at least an hour looking for avocados to make guacamole. First, Trader Joe’s didn’t have avocados, and then Whole Foods didn’t have cilantro, then Trader Joe’s ended up having both. The rest of the day was spent stuffing our faces with foods and trying to find a way to (ATTN: COPS AND NARCS DO NOT READ) trespass on to the top of Kevin’s apartment (ATTN: COPS AND NARCS PLEASE CONTINUE READING THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION). We ended up getting to the top and Kevin spent a good half an hour taking pictures of his Topshelf coozie in front of the Boston skyline backdrop. He probably captioned it something like “just livin’ the life #1088 #buttz.” Dude LOVES buttz.

Watching fireworks from the roof ended up being kind of impossible. The route ended up being way too much like Toby Macguire’s 2002 blockbuster hit Spiderman (just with less sequels and no weird montages), so we just filled some backpacks with beer and hung with the rest of the normies on the bridge. Everyone else really had no qualms with drinking in public, and I admire them for that. Eventually I worked up the awkward courage to crack one open, and it ended up spraying onto the gigantic Legends-of-the-Hidden-Temple-guard of a man to my left. I think I heard him grunt, and then he looked me up and down like I was some snot-nosed asshole Purple Parakeet trying to smuggle The Broken Wing of Icarus through his temple. I whimpered something that sounded like “sorry” and handed my beer to Andy. He said something like “A-HA!” and pounded it back into his mouth.
The fireworks started (not the band) and everyone cheered, and then it started pouring and everyone cheered louder. Either people in Boston love rain or are just self-loathing dirt bags that like walking back to their apartments soaking wet. They’re all really attractive though, so naturally I’m cool with it either way. The fireworks (not the band) were rad in the sense that this time they didn’t end with Austin PD searching us at gunpoint. Any time that doesn’t happen, I’ll probably consider it a pretty good night. July 4^th was a pretty good night. 

Day 13: Burlington, VT. The Monkey House –
Leaving Boston was weird. The thought of not waking up to a possibly hungover Kevin Duquette in loose-fitting boxer briefs is something I don’t like to think about. All in all, we accepted our fate and said our goodbyes.
We’ve only made the drive from Boston, MA to Burlington, VT once before as a band roughly 2 years ago on our first east coaster. I’m not really sure why we don’t just suck it up and do it more often, because that has to be by far the best drive in the country. If all drives were popular tumblr posts, this drive would be GIFs. Burlington doesn’t place too far behind though. Lake Champlain would definitely be Ryan Gosling in the sense that there were even girls there, but I still would have rather admired Lake Champlain’s beauty (but like, in a totally masculine, tough guy with muscles kind of way).
The show ended up ruling. The bill was stacked. Our guy Tyler Daniel Bean ended up opening, and it’s probably the first time I’ve ever heard someone’s voice sound better than it does in recordings. So good. Jess in The New and Very Welcome played next, but she didn’t play her Saves the Day cover even though I cool-guy hinted at it over pizza. She thought Tim and I forgot her name. We didn’t. Suck it.

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 9: Worcester, MA. The Starship: Next Generation.
We spent most of today finding ways to sneak the word “butt” into normal everyday conversation with Kevshelf. That dude is really, really good at it. As far as using the word “butt” goes, that dude made us look like chumps. Also yesterday we played with Motion City Soundtrack last night.

Kevin hitched a ride with us to the show in Worcester tonight. We finally got to play a show with some bands we’ve been getting into over the past couple months, State Lines and The Hotel Year. They’re both very good, straightforward groups of dudes. Our guy Ricky Enderle was there too. Man, that guy loves romantic comedies.

I don’t think that the AC was on, because after the first band (Munie Hungry), the room filled with a very, very thick blanket of dirty sweat steam. If anyone went to the Against Me! show at Common Ground in Gainesville right before it changed its name to Double Down, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s the kind of heat that seeps out of the Everglades, if the Everglades were filled with sweaty punk rockers with very good accessory senses. Definitely the hottest room we’ve played this tour.
I think as far as this tour goes, this was the most relaxed, well-run show so far. There were no outstanding, raunchy, disgusting events exciting enough to write about in a Property of Zack blog, and the show even ended before 10:15pm. I fucking love when that happens. Usually it means that you have enough time and energy to go buy some beer to drink with Kevin Duquette on the roof of his apartment building and have a really cool night in Boston, except it was Sunday and Massachusetts doesn’t sell beer anywhere apparently. Someone fix that. Someone write a letter to the governor of Massachusetts and let him know that we’re disappointed. Remember to use all caps, really big five-dollar words, and make fun of your opponent’s grammar if they mess up at all. I don’t know man, it’s late, and I’m out of good jokes to work with. Cut me some slack.
P.S.
Also it should be noted that this is the 2^nd night on tour that we’ve played on the same night as Roger Waters. The same thing has happened twice with Iron Maiden. Andy is furious every time he finds out. It’s really funny.

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From Tanner Jones: 

Day 6: Philadelphia, PA. International House of Pounders Estate -  
So uh, I think one thing that has been in the background of this whole emo revival trend (fad? I hope not), at least for me, is the effort to dispel the mostly public perception that emo is just a bunch of sad dudes that think mundane things are beautiful and artsy. Well, er, I mean, it actually kind of is like that, but not in a lame way. I promise it’s not in a lame way. Either way, I guess what I’m trying to get across is that I don’t want to seem too Hot Topic emo when I say that the drive through Virginia was absolutely beautiful today. It was the kind of beautiful that takes your breath away while you’re in the back of the van, so you try to take a picture of it with your camera phone to send it to girls so that they know you’re not all just gas and boner jokes, but the photo comes out super underwhelming and you just seem like a moron. Well, girls, we’re not morons. It was beautiful. But we still have muscles and stuff. We’re not wussies or anything, either.

We pulled into Philadelphia to Paul Blart mall cop and his greasy fucking pizza fingers hassling us for loitering in front of IHOP Estate. There was also something about trash in the back yard. I don’t know. I couldn’t really tell what he was saying. He sounded like a fart with a Philadelphia accent. Some cops are cool though. A lot of cops I’ve met are cool (by the way, hey punks stop being idiots with the whole “fuck cops” thing. That sucks. You suck), but this one was a doofus.
Everything ended up blowing over, and the show went very, very well. We enjoyed ourselves fully through every single band. Not to sound like a jerk, but sometimes tour just gets to be overwhelming, and missing a song or two is kind of essential for sanity’s sake. Also, sometimes you have to miss a band’s set because your Evan McGrew slices his finger open on a shattered 40 oz. Yeah. The guy gets the first 40 on tour, makes some kind of cocky comment about it like “Check out my 40 ounce you 40-less fart smokers,” and then he let it slip out of his hands. Not only that, but he plunged them into the mess of shards shattering in slow motion under him. Turns out when you do that, you’ll cut your finger open pretty badly, so we spent the next 20-30 minutes tending to his bleedy hands. It was pretty bad. Our friends Brody and Krystal ended up driving him to the hospital and waiting with him while he got stitches. Wonderful people. Thank you Brody. Thank you Krystal. We were kind of stressed, obviously, so my boy Ciaran gave me a couple swigs of his Mickey’s. Thanks Ciaran. The night ended with Evan getting fixed up and most of us falling asleep in the air conditioning, so thank goblin for that. 

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We’re big fans of You Blew It! on PropertyOfZack, and apparently they’re fans of us as well. We’ve teamed up with the band to bring you Road Blogs throughout You Blew It!’s summer tour, and it should be a good one. Check out the first update below and come back each week for more!

Okay, so I’ve never met Zack. I don’t know what his property is, or what it looks like, but I like it a lot. PropertyOfZack has treated us so so well, and we’re so excited to be doing this tour blog with them.  Right now we’re on our longest tour yet (36 days), and our crew is pretty cool this time around. We’ve got Timothy Flynn the drummer/drinker, Andy Anaya the guitarist/toy specialist, Evan Mcgrew the merch guy/photographer/Andy Milanokis enthusiast, Nick Inman the bassist/naked guy, and then you’ve got me. My name is Tanner and I try to sing and play guitar, and I unsuccessfully grow facial hair. We’re all shoved into this van that looks more or less like the trash compactor scene in A New Hope, just with worse haircuts. 

Day 1: Atlanta, GA. Under the Couch –
This was only our second time ever playing Atlanta, and I’m going to be honest, the first time was fucking dumb. I don’t know if anyone read our last tour blog, but like, someone ended up having to go to the hospital, and I’m pretty sure 2/3 of the show’s attendance stood outside during our set, flexing their HxC knowledge/tattoos on each other. Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to say is this time was totally different. We packed the van and shouldered the 7-hour drive from Orlando to Georgia Tech’s campus. Before too long, the van was parked, pleasantries were exchanged with the promoter, and we were sitting down watching Spain make France look really stupid. Actually, can we talk about how annoying France’s uniforms are? Those things suck. They look like something dumb collared shirt Tyler Something-or-other would wear. I went to high school with Tyler Something-or-other. He sucked. One time he pushed me in the hallways and laughed in my face and then he said to his friends “LOL I JUST PUSHED THAT FRESHMAN LOL.” He bookended his sentence with “lol” and not in a sarcastic way. Really, he was clearly kind of an English language revolutionary. Anyways, I didn’t do anything. I just kept walking. I’ll write some lyrics about him one day. I’ll show HIM. Anyways, we played the show and it was pretty cool. We had to sort out some sloppy first day kinks on stage during our set, which was kind of embarrassing, but everyone was really nice about it. Except someone asked us to play a song by Dikembe. I’m not sure if anyone reading this has ever been asked to play another song by another band or not, but it kind of feels like whenever someone asks you to play another song by another band. Whatever. He was nice.

Day 2: Greenville, SC. Earshot Records w/ Apart –
Waking up in Atlanta was cool. Andy and I got up kind of early and went for a David Garwacke inspired run. Let me tell you, running over hills is rough. We did our best Walter Payton impressions, but it probably just came out as more of a Philip Seymour Hoffman circa Along Came Polly. Our host pumped us full of waffles and carted us to her bomb ass pool complex. It had slides and those silly waterfall mushrooms. Had we been filming with a super expensive camera, I’m pretty positive we could have gotten a couple thousand for Unaccompanied Minors 2. Except Nick wore a speedo, which I’m pretty sure was the demise of some kids’ futures. Anything from there on out in their lives are just going to be downward spirals in a desperate attempt to erase the all too well-defined package he was carrying around at their eye levels. So uh, sorry I guess.

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