I. Tour Recollection.

We are still planning on publishing a tour journal that will pretty much take over the entire issue number ten of The Hatemonger.  We're looking to get it bound and mass produced, so it's taking "a little longer" [joke].  It should also be released with either a recording of Manifestation Two before our summer tour or as a part of the discograpahy cd for Manifestation One.

"a tour is  travling acrouse the goddamn contry playing AT LEAST 6 shows a week.. ,... on the road with a band you never heard of before and then by the end becomning best freinds with everone in every car" (Eric Martinez, House of Musicians)


II. Past Shows.

06.30.02 @ The ManHaus w/An Albatross | The Judas Cradle | The Black Sun 

This show was a last minute affair--Drew was due to depart to New York to re-establish familial connections and rebuild the World Trade Center, but he was in town anyway.  The show was at the "ManHaus" which is a house in the Bywater.  Love it. I was planning on getting a ride with Bryan but he had a crazy plan to leave hours early.  He of course didn't do this, but I decided to find a different way there, and while eating with Nicole, ran into Mudge, Justin, and Shannon.  I got a ride with them but when we arrived at 5 PM there was a little note on the door that said "Show at 7 PM" so we drove around downtown a little bit (during which time my "Revolution is a just a t-shirt away" t-shirt came up; for more about that see the EBOD Summer Tour 2002 Memoir) and by the time we got back a few more people arrived.  Joey and Melanie showed up and I got to look at some more of Melanie's pictures from the recent EBOD tour and they were excellent. An Albatross showed up for their second show in New Orleans that weekend (they had played at Cypress Hall the night before) and the drummer man went with us to get some refreshments.  In the car, Shannon called me an asshole, Mudge said everyone thought I was an asshole, and I remembered the time Justin called me a dick on the One Eye messageboard.  Darin remained calm and did not talk shit to my face.  By the end, even Mr. Albatross Drummer was in the act, but he was good-natured about it.  Justin showed us these crazy old man sailor houses by Holy Cross and I was afraid if the cops pulled us over me and the drummer were going to jail because while Justin was 17 or 18, Shannon his friend is 16 and I am 21 and drums 25.  When we got back, the house was opened up and people started filing in. It was damn hot in there and Joey and Justin set up the Black Sun on the "wrong side" of the room and the dude tried to tell them such so they just sort of pushed the table Joey had his laptop on to the side a little bit.  They eventually got under way and Steve, Dave and Scott (from, um, Head Pro) walked on in.  The drums went out on one song so Joey leapt from his perch and kissed people in the audience though Sir Donkus was not into that. The Judas Cradle set up and played but I was outside for most of that unloading EBOD equipment.  Drew and Mike had shown up late but they had shown up.  One of Drew's guitar effects thing was mildewing and this he was not happy about.   Mike's fiancée was with him. After the Judas Cradle, we started to load stuff in and even Eric showed up.  I think Count Jeremy was there too.  Lando was there.  Some guy I had never played with before was there (maybe he's from the Picts?  He was "helping" Bryan with [one of] the PA speakers).  Jambo was there and took pictures, I think.  Bryan started off wearing a shirt, tie, and skull mask and there was a golden hat I had on for a few seconds and some other random crap floating about but no real "theme," unless you count disappointment from the audience.  Drew said "Fuck a setlist" so it was decided Mike would call out songs and then we would play them.  Before each song he was supposed to say "This is song number X!" but I couldn't hear anything. We opened with spoken word but I couldn't read it clearly and fucked it up and then played old "10 O'Clock."  I was on the floor and boy was it dirty.  There seemed to be a lot of girls at this show...?  I don't know, maybe there were just a bunch of girl dudes.  Steve Quinet was there, I'm not sure when he got there.  Antoine walked in during the Blues Song and I shared my mic with Eric on that one.  I dedicated songs to Wiegs and the Ox: "The Ox has left the building." We did the emo song into Stormseeker, which is one of my favorite transitions ever and I know we also played Classic Rock and the Mass Hug song.  At some point Dan Fox showed up and helped hold the cords in one of the PAs.  After the show, there was a brief scare as he could not locate his Moleskin, BUT HE FOUND IT!  Also did Sept. 12 and closed, eternal, with Lincoln.  At the end of that song, Eric bear-hugged Steve and dragged him down and they fell on top of me and would not let go.  Then Joey fell on my cheekbone and for a second, I was afraid I had no face.  But my face is fine.  Beautiful as ever. After that, I wrapped my mic.  I had taken my shirt off during some song and as I leaned back against the white wall, my sweat left dark drips of dirt and mucus.  It was hideous.  The An Albatross guys said they liked us and Phil, the keyboard player, hatched a plan for a massive tour with bands who had the most people in them (us, Pg. 99, Phil Collins Disco Ranch or something and I think one other band).  THAT WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN!  WAIT FOR IT TO HAPPEN! Antoine was juggling fire and I watched that for a bit.  Drew watched too.  He was sick, lying in the trailer, a good place to lay.  It wasn't as hot anymore, and I talked to Dan Fox about how he should be the liaison between bands and Bryan when they have to cancel shows.  Him and Joey talked about a new Stupid Fucking White Man song, I think, too, with a "jazzy intro." An Albatross played and this show was much better than the Cypress one.  The only downside was Kelly watching through the window, nervous her fan, A/C, and ceiling would be destroyed by the An Albatross singer, who stuck yet another mic down his pants.  But everything remained unscathed.  I bought the An Albatross CD for $8 and felt cheated for it is only 11 minutes long, though it does have bullshit computer stuff. Bryan said it was maybe possible for An Albatross to hop on a bill at Dixie's Taverne--it was, after all, only two local bands (of which we later saw the Disgust who are "awesome streetpunk from the Northshore").  The guys didn't want to do it though because they were staying with Darin at Norco who had to go to sleep earlier than the never he did the night before because he had work the next day.  I was at Norco with them the night before and there was some crazy shit going down involving Eric Martinez and a video camera.  Me and some of the Albatrossians watched an episode of Batman and it was amaaaaazing. Judas Cradle left to sleep at a cousin's house or something and An Albatross went back to Cancerland.  I think the one who runs www.BenjaminApplesauce.com has pictures up from the show.  Go, enjoy them.  I'll be here writing more reviews when you get back.  Rob a bank, kill someone, as Mudge would say.

06.20.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Rat in a Bucket | Durga | Montcalm 

We had just gotten back from tour and decided to do a split set with tourmates Rat in A Bucket.  Eric set up his guitar at the far end of Dixie next to the jukebox while the rest of the Eat a Bag of Rat Dicks while Drinking Your Juice in a Bucket set up their stacks on the Dixie stage complete with opposing drum kits to create a sludge Cape Canaveral. I caught one of the bands that played before us.  They were very good but didn't cotton to the audience for some reason.  They heckled the crowd, saying it was full of stupid cowboys or something?  Maybe they were trying to be Sid Vicious, but, well, I don't remember Sid Vicious being in no keyboard playing screamo band. But, so, yeah, I was glad to see the stupid cowboys at this show.  A lot of people I hadn't seen in a while were there as was the entire 20+ strong group of people who had toured with us (sans Darin... what the fuck Darin?  Don't give me any of this I-live-in-Norco-and-don't-have-a-fudging-hovercraft bullshit). Everything started to get setup and Ryan Funckus told me I was sharing a mic with Ramone from Rat in a Bucket, which was cool and meant I had to run back to Ramone's guitar perch after each EBOD song.  To this end, I was making sure the microphone wasn't tangled up in other cords and that I knew what input on the PA it went into, in case it became unplugged.  I'm up there, gathering info, and Funckus gives me the evil eye, fierce: "Why'd you unplug that?!"  "I didn't," I says.  "Drew said somebody moved a mic."  "Well it wasn't me!"  This exchange is notable not for the fact that R Funckus blew his top with the urging of a gnat sting, but for the fact that he placed Drew's word above mine, even implicitly.  I'll not forget that, Funckus, mark my words. But then this goddamned party got started.  We opened with my spoken word rendition of "10 O'Clock in the Morning."  Strangely, it seemed to go over the worst here at home than the two places we did it on tour.  Maybe I'm slipping?  Bashful Mike came in during the spoken word but set up in time to play.  Rat in a Bucket went into their song right from the end of the spoken word better than EBOD ever did. I can't remember too much about the actual show.  I can never see anything because I have my glasses safely stowed in the overheard bin of leopard skin.  I remember "Storm Seeker" got the handclap on the intro and that Melanie pushed me down.  I think I grabbed Megan (cf. "scary nose ring girl") by the belt and gave her a good swishing.  Chad and Pappas got a faceful of screaming but ultimately left the show a wee bit early to catch the World Cup.  Word was Mr Mudge was in the back observing us Secret Service style.  If you don't know the particulars of these characters, just revel in the salt-of-life names, move to New Orleans and become my friend.  I'll take you to all the parties.  I'll let you sleep at my parents' house.  We'll gently sip tea and compare philosophies.  We'll part having made hemp bracelets and there won't be a dry eye in the Crescent. Doing a song and then Rat in a Bucket and then us again was interesting... it made everything seem longer but I had more energy for the actual songs.  Did the Daltrey march on stage at some point.  "Same Old Shit,"  I remember, sounded good.  Scott Jagger was in effect and we red rocketed out in the back next to Eric.  At some point, I fell on Eric and his guitar strings shocked my lips.  My lips were already a little busted from the scritchy ends of the microphone I was using.  My knee bled at this show too but that was just from another wound being reopened; as EBOD sage Eddie Pellgreen says, "the playing field can be evened by a simple lesion."  I asked if anyone had a place for us to stay, but this little joke was misunderstood, just like my serious love of the Beach Boys is.  Except by Jonathan of Pg. 99 who is starting a Beach Boys ripoff band with me.  I'm serious.  I'm not joking.  My earnesty stains the internet. We tried to close with "We Will Rock You."  It, like at the Smurfs show, sort of fell apart, but WHO GIVES A FUCK!  Then something happened and we went into the Saints song... which wasn't on the set.  Then Bashful Mike said "these people missed us... they want more!" And the orchestra tried to play "Soundman" but the PA was off and it was not meant to be.  How apropos.  Afterwards I went home and read George Saunders.  He is a good writer.  You should read him.

06.18.02 @ The Thunderdome [Tallahassee, FL] w/Rat in a Bucket | Page Ninety-Nine | Majority Rule | One Fifth | Tyranny of the Shaw | Adoroa Doluoris (Adore Miridia) | Big Ben Grind Band

06.17.02 @ The Kids Skateboards [Tampa, FL] w/Rat in a Bucket | Page Ninety-Nine | Majority Rule | As I Lay Dying

06.13.02 @ The Stone Soup Collective [Orlando, FL] w/Rat in a Bucket | The Black Sun | The Kingdom of Heaven Must be Taken by Storm | Of Divergent Blood

06.12.02 @ Full Circle [Gainesville, FL] w/Rat in a Bucket | Hot Rod Beef Squad | Nux Vomica

06.11.02 @ Tight Pockets [Athens, GA] w/Rat in a Bucket | Exit Eighty-Six | Taking Robots to the Prom

06.08.02 @ The Ark w/Antarctica Vs the World | Marc with a C | The Robinsons | The Young People

05.17.02 @ Cypress Hall w/The Fleshies | Antarctica Vs the World | Good For Nothing

05.10.02 @ Changes [Lafayette] w/Fall of Power | Stupid Fucking White Man

05.08.02 @ Shim Sham w/Lawrence Arms | Taking Back Sunday | The Reunion Show

04.28.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Bongzilla | Dove | Hawg Jaw

04.06.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Glasseater | Outplay [Village People theme:  Failure]

04.04.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Structural Damage | Stupid Fucking White Man [Eric Martinez theme]

03.30.02 @ Cypress Hall w/Antarctica Vs the World | Imagine the Band | King Louie One Man Band | RB Hip Hop | Fight the Goober

03.23.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Eight Bux Experiment | Antarctica Vs the World | The Picts | The Critics | Fight the Goober [Superhero theme]

  I had just come from my cousin's 22nd birthday party from the Beachcomber down Canal Street with costume in hand.  At this point it was still a secret.  I had really wanted to get a black ski mask and sweat shirt and draw on venom designs and constantly attack Bryan throughout the show but my lack of ambition, planning, and transportation yielded me to use only what was available at my house.  The easiest and best costumes are all about the accessories.  It didn’t really matter what the hell else I had on--as long as the hat, the satchel, and the whip I was Indiana Jones.

  People were asking me who I was, and I was only telling them I was a hero, not a superhero.  Fuck y’all naysayers who didn’t dig my digs.   I only told Kyle and Jacy because they intimidated me (and later this girl whose nose-ring intimidated me.  What’s your name? [Megan Acosta, ed.]).  This NORCOnian guy Darin really wanted to know too, but I told him he needed to intimidate me or ask Jacy because Kyle was too stoned to remember.  He told me how Jacy wasn’t that intimidating and was beat up by a group of skin heads.  I didn’t believe him and was reassured by Cosimo that Jacy is Weapon X.  And Jacy himself confirmed no such shenanigans.  WARNING:  this Darin kid is a liar, twice convicted by me, and a shoe sniffer.  Don’t kick his ass because he's a minor, but don’t leave him to take care of your houseplants.

  So I changed into my costume before Fight the Goober.  I don’t know if the band was slapping the dick off or what but it took them forever to set up their bullshit.  The pugialitist were too drunk to fight properly; if they need drugs to perform, I would suggest crystal meth next time.  The finale ended with the lankier of the two beanpoles dropping (probably from boredom more than beer) right after his opponent threw up near the pa.  It was pretty gross, but really annoying considering that we were playing right there next.  I wanted to get some wet toilet paper, throw it in his face, and have the loser knock his ass out but it was over before I even began to weigh the consequences.

  Then it was our turn.  Here is the list of characters as far as I remember: Melanie & Gumbo - Spidergirl and Batgirl with matching underoos.  Kara – Super Girl.  Rob - Cable.  Kevin - Silver Surfer.  Count Jeremy - Underwear Head Man.  Bryan - Spidey.  Joey - Turner D. Century (from Wonder Woman?).  Eric - guy who went into toilet to makeout with underage girl night before.  Drew - Wonder Woman (with scrotum hanging out the underwear).  Mike - supposed to be Zoro.  Me - Indy.

  It was pretty rowdy with punk brawlers in the pit, and the songs seemed more indistinct than ever, but I went pretty good.  When I wasn’t on the side keeping out of the fracas, I just closed my eyes and moved around.  When something happened to Drew's axe, some guy was screaming rather indignantly about Bryan being Straightedge.  He was fairly monosyllabic, so it was easy to mock him with a rendition of what I like to call stupid fuckin taverner.  We soon started up again, but I was getting tired of the pushing (especially the suspender guy), so I brought out the duct tape I made my whip out of (thanks for leaving an entire roll at my house sears air condition installer Darryl!) and wrapped it around ye ole dixie pole and tried to ensnare the pit.  I put it too high, and most people ducked and then ripped it, but watch out next time!  So to put some cohesiveness to the pit, I just grabbed people and held them together.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t too tough, except I had to keep grabbing this girl who wanted for us to get rowdy and kept squeezing out and pushing all of us.

  The finale ended with Bryan wallowing in the Goober puke and getting beer poured on him by his aforementioned rival/admirer.  It was a quick get away after that for me, Bryan, and his lady.  He dropped me off at home and he rode off to "the Berkeley of the south" (Austin, TX).  I am not sure how the other bands were, but I wanted to see the Picts because I haven’t seen them in a while, but especially since the hottie in the band was in a cheerleading uniform as Buffy.  Indiana Jones vs. Buffy the Vampire Slayer in Never in a Million Years.  WORD.  Eat A Bag Of Dicks rules.  OK?

03.13.02 @ Mermaid Lounge w/Rye Coalition | Mayflies USA [Dixie Tavern Revenge theme]

03.10.02 @ Hi-Ho Lounge w/Face First | Brown Socks | Sola [Cowboys & Indians theme]

03.09.02 @ Zeppelin's w/Eyehategod | Face First | Valium Knob [Make Fat City Hate Us theme]

  I was under the mistaken impression that this was going to be a fun show. In retrospect, the signs of impending disaster were already there: Eat a Bag of Dicks was going to play a show at Zeppelin’s with Eyehategod. Things were looking good at first: as I drove up to the venue, I see that someone has bothered to put “EAT A BAG OF DICK” on the marquee, a few spaces under “EYEHATEGOD.” I like that better than the usual spelling, so I chuckle to myself quietly. This chuckle would soon give way to much sighing and pained facial expressions. But my spirits remained high for the time being.

  I was a little early, so the only people here are the mighty Andrew Banton, Mike, Mike, and probably Rob. As folks start to roll in, everyone is already in a bad mood. I think our theme for the night was “Feelin’ Shitty.” Bryan just put on this show down the street that a bunch of bands canceled on, Drew is all sad from getting soggy up in the kickball field and assholes at work, Chuck hates Eyehategod, and so forth. I’m all about making the best of this, so me and Justin head down to the quick stop to get some liquor. Bad omen #1: as we are walking back, the sign now reads (on both sides) “EAT A BAG OF ICKS,” a few spaces under “EYEHATEGO.” Uh oh. Now we’re pluralized, but at what cost???

  When I get back inside, everyone looks all sorry. Apparently, we’re not supposed to play, even though our name is up on the marquee and the little marker board inside Zeppelin’s. At the request of the headlining band, we must move our equipment offstage for some reason. Supposedly so they could sound check, which never occurred. It is around this time that the door man, a long-haired bearded fellow named “Jimmy” from Crowbar or Goatwhore or something, was approached by Superb Rob, our roadie, with his list of all of our singers. His response is that we only have so many singers because we just want to get all of our friends in for free, presumably because Eyehatego is so awesome and people are beating down the doors to get in. Never mind the fact that most of our friends that showed up paid, and some of them didn’t even get to see us because our set was cut in half. And there really wasn’t that many people there anyway. I kept hearing something about a “six hundred person capacity.” There might have been six hundred people there if you counted everyone three and a half times. Oh yeah: the band requested that we be offstage by 10:30. I heard this news at 10:06. Most of our stuff wasn’t on stage yet.

  Ok, now if I was a long-haired bearded guy from Goatbar or whatever and Superb Rob came up to me with a list claiming that there are eleven people in this opening band I had never heard of, I would be pretty incredulous as well, but this dude was being a dick. Drew Bascle came in and said he was a singer, and the guy replied “I’ll believe that when I see you on stage, faggot.” The Drewster was pretty out-of-sorts about this. When it came time for sound check, he kept saying “check” in this exaggerated effeminate manner. No one laughed. I would’ve if I was paying attention, but I was too busy staring at the Zima sign over my head. Who at Zeppelin’s would order a fucking lame drink like Zima? No one, that‘s who. A waste of neon. We’re not wanted here, not by the audience at least, and I don’t think we’re going to win them over with our charm.

  I should mention that the guy who owns Zeppelin’s was very nice to us, and he is the person who invited us to play, which is why our name was written on stuff. He actually pulled for us to play a longer set, and he seems like a good dude. He’s in the middle of talking to Justin about us playing a longer set or something, and Andrew Benton begins to wail on his axe, thus ending the uncertainty that permeated the room. It begins. The set list looked like the Warren Commission report: every other line was crossed out. Luckily all my favorite songs made it, I think.

  Then the set happened. No one in the crowd moved so much as an inch for the first few songs. I felt like even more of an asshole than usual. Poor Jenn (AKA Jambo) looked pretty bewildered. Bashful Mike (AKA Tattoo Johnny) was in his usual 3 to 5 foot ego bubble, but he seemed particularly pissed off. I think he was pretty annoyed with the way we had been treated. It seemed like all the other singers were just sort of waiting for it to be time to go home. Eventually I fell off the stage and I apparently brought this guy I always see at the Dixie back up with me. That was pretty cool--it was almost as if people were paying attention to us briefly.

  Superb Rob had a microphone (something I’ve been noticing a lot lately) and was sort of marching back and forth in front of the stage and yelling stuff. Drew looked sexy as usual. I don’t think I even need to write that, because you already know it. Chuck was using a loudspeaker in lieu of a microphone, so it sounded like the cops were coming the whole time. Bryan had his usual beady-eyed stare in action and was ripping up the flo’ with his guttural intonations. I like the way Kara holds the microphone with both hands all the time, like she is emitting something really heavy and is struggling with the weight. The Andrew/Mike/Justin axis of evil was plowing through our set in their usual energetic style, but apparently the sound kept cutting out and shit. There was speculation that we were “fucked” on sound, but it is very likely that it kept cutting out because of the P.A. we brought being hooked up to their system all weird-like.

  Then I fell off the stage again, and before you know it, we’re done. The stage at Zeppelin’s is very high. I felt like I was in Pearl Jam, or at least Acid Bath. I guess it’s built that way so that they don’t have to pay for security to protect the bands when the Hessian warriors come out for those Olde Tyme NOLA Metal Bands.

  So anyways, we finish sooner than usual and I go outside. Everything was all fuzzy because my temples were throbbing from being slammed into things. I hopped in a car with a friend of mine so she could get some smokes. The guy at the gas station was pretty concerned with the fact that she bought me an iced tea. He told me that where he comes from, women do not buy anything. They sit around the house and look pretty and the men do the work. He said things are very different where he comes from. He then looked me directly in the eye and said “For instance, if you come to see my sister in a bad way, then you are no more,” which he accentuated with a cutting motion. I thought he was from Pakistan or something, but it turns out he was just talking about Fat City. I am just joking; of course he was from Pakistan. But it’s funnier the other way. Nice guy though.

  I went back to Zeppelin’s and everybody except for Andrew, Mike, Mike, and Rob had bailed out. Face First rocked the fuck out and was the best band who played that night. This was the beginning of our two-day Dixie Taverne tour through Fat City and the 8th Ward. I stayed for two Eyehatego songs. Their singer was sort of babbling incoherently, which was really funny and the best part of their set. He stopped talking though and they just kept playing songs. The next time I saw everyone they were all in really bad moods still.

03.07.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Sadiya | Loyal Frisby | The Picts [Pirate/Goonies theme]

[Here's a review of the show written by Pat from Loyal Frisby!]

03.02.02 @ Cypress Hall w/Marc (with a "C") | Erased by the Sun | Class Act | Something in Between | Critics [Ballerina theme]

03.01.02 @ Zeppelin's w/Coexist | Outplay [Hair Metal/Glam Rock theme]

I can't believe they're making me write this stupid review.  Fuck a Bunch of Eat a Bag of Dicks.I was dragged yet again through the rain into the bowels of Fat City, to Zeppelin's, on March 1, 2002, to do god-knows-what in front of god-knows-who.  But it involved bad wigs, megaphones, and kendo swords, so as I was needed, I went.

 I spent a lot of time before our show--was I a member of this band?  I was paying rent 500 miles away.  I'd been to one practice.  And played in four shows.  We hung out at some seafood storage facility where all the young high school kids attended another punk rock show.  How many can happen in one night, and within 50 feet of each other?  I sat around thinking how in my day this and when I was down on the street hanging out that.  I'm only 22, dammit.  And only in New Orleans are the skater kids still doing third-wave ska--maybe it's fourth-wave by now. But it's always a mystery to me how there are even skater kids at all in a city where the pavement bows, sinks and splits over recovered swampland. At least a couple of them were thrashing themselves on the concrete floor, wet from so many muddy converse.  Realities be damned, the people will thrash.

 From the confusion of new mysteries to the paling of old ones.  Zeppelin's wasn't the intimidating biker bar that I remember, and with it's black-and-white checked floor, stolen from Steven Springer's uptown home, it looked like the ska kids should have been playing it.  But with the huge metal rail around the "pit" and the specialty shot "cum-in-me," (do you drool it back out of your mouth after you shoot it?), it seemed like a glorious venue for the hair metal Eat a Bag of Dicks Revue. Or at least a place where they wouldn't be so confused or disgusted to kick us out.

 Why were we playing last?  I saw the screamy-whiteguy-dreadlocked-singer- and-serious-shred outfit Coexist (or the band formerly known as Coexist, since they changed their band name in the middle of the set... interesting)--I watched them for a few songs and then went into my car to review the lyrics and match them to the poorly recorded EaBoD tape Bryan forced upon me earlier that evening.  No, I actually did this. 

 When I came back, Outplay was playing.  They were apparently "more metal" than usual, a fact Jambo attributed to the metal guy on the soundboard.  I thought it was because of the otherworldy echo put on all the vocals.  The too-many of us in EaBoD was apparently echo enough.  And Chuck, our newly-licensed megaphonist, skanking it up, only added to the sonic confusion of my horrible Bruce Dickinson impersonation and Bryan, Drew, and Joey's new school growls and squeals.  Oh yeah, there were instruments, too.  And a cowbell.  Rob and the guitarist from the Band Formerly known as Coexist ended up on stage, while Chuck, Bryan, and Drew spent a lot of time off it, dancing with kids, but probably not the girl in the black vinyl pants.  Eric was cowering by the drums with his little ear muffs on.  How was he supposed to be listening to the music?

   Andrew kicked me over to the other side of the stage, and I hid behind my huge wig and Justin's bass amp, screaming and hitting my cowbell, until Justin decided that his bass rig would do better on the ground.  I used my bad finger, the one with the tip sliced off it, to save it.  Those screams were real.

   I think we played five songs, including the one where half the lyrics are "Fuck Andy," and ended with "Lincoln."  All I know is that I ended the set with a flying split off the stage rail.  Thank you, Vince Neil.

02.14.02 @ Hi-Ho Lounge w/Jet By Day [Valentine's Day theme]

02.07.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Inspection 12 | Exit 86 | Hunter-Gatherer [Mardi Gras theme]

    I don't remember a whole lot about that night. I was drinking all day because it was sort of close to Mardi Gras and I didn't really have anything else to do. By the time I got to the show I was really tired from a day of walking aimlessly around me house watching Kids in the Hall. The parades were going by my house and that was really depressing so even though I was fucking beat I was kind of happy to go to Dixie.

     I actually fell asleep while all the other shitty bands were playing. They really sucked a whole lot and it was just astonishing how bad they sucked it.

     I didn't even think I was going to sing in Eat a Bag of Dicks, and in the end I really didn't, I just threw myself into lots of people and made crazy noises and got mad fucked up. I saw fucking Steve Springer there and that was the shit since I hadn't seen him since bingo night with Lauren and Shanga and all them fools like twelve years ago. I was going to feel like an idiot if I was the only one without a mic, but then I remembered that most of the singers don't have mics anyway, so I didn't care. Plus, Steve was all about fucking moshing it up so that made me feel a lot better.

    We were all feeling pretty gangster so we sat on the stage with our heads hung looking at the ground ready to fuck some motherfucking shit up. That was cool I felt like I was in Indignation or something. Except no one was throwing cigarettes at me and I didn't have on camouflage pants.

    I decided I was going to get pretty beat during the show, so I bought a couple beers and stashed them behind Justin's amp. I think he stole at least one though, in revenge for me flipping his dog. I think that dog got lost though. Whatever. So I drank some more and waited for the fucking RUMBLE TO BEGIN. I got out my switchblade and put some more grease in my hair and started jerking off until I came all over Joey's face and he got mad cause he didn't see it coming. HAHA. Coming, get it? :j

    So the fucking rock began and everybody went nuts. Everyone was on the floor smacking everything in its fucking face destroying all. Diana kept punching me in the face and slapping me and stuff, but it didn't hurt because she's a girl and I was pretty trashed. Me and Steve brought it back to the fucking day with the mother fucking windmills and floorpunches and pickin' up of change. I don't think one person at the show didn't feel the fucking force of the motherfucking dick, bitch. I finished my first beer and threw it to the back of the audience. It was empty so I didn't think it would hurt anyone. They threw it back and it landed at my feet so I just threw it back again cause they were fucking bitches. Then I cracked open another one and started falling on the floor and getting kicked in the head but I fucking liked it cause I'm nasty like that.

    It sucks that I can't remember a lot. I do remember that Joey was being overly stingy with his mic, not letting anyone use it. Everyone else fucking rotated and shared, but Joey just stuck his shit to himself and didn't let anyone into the spotlight. That Joey. I'm going to kill him with my diarreah gun. I rammed my face into his head a few times but he never did anything because he was too busy protecting his goddamned microphone.

    At one point after my fifth beer I really had to pee but I was so trashed I forgot I had to pee and I just whizzed all over myself all discombobulatedly and all. That's okay though cause the floor was all wet with my spilt beer so everyone thought that's what I had all over my crotch and down my leg but little did they know it was mother fucking peepee. Those fools I definitely peed all over a bunch of people and rubbed my pee pants all over everyone and they never noticed. I was so sweaty and stinky with body odor that the pee smell soaked in with the other stanks and no one noticed the smell either. Man...

    Drew was always making sure everything was getting sufficiently fucked up. He's crazy like that. What he lacks in good jokes and good taste in music (acghem*dashboard confessional) he makes up for knowing how to rock everyone's plump virgin asses. I think Drew was the only one I didn't pee on because he's so snappy he'd totally notice he had pee all over him and he'd know it was either me or Eric because no one else would do something like that. Well, maybe Justin, but only on me because I flipped his little dog.

    I don't remember a lot after that. That was all that happened. I went and incoherently hung on people and they thought that was me coming on to them, but it was definitely just me secretly thinking, "Hehe I'm leaning on this person and rubbing my pee pants on them, and they don't know it." I woke up the next day and had four cigarette burns on my left arm, a few cuts up and down my legs and arms, and a bunch of really sore muscles. I went back to Chile seven days after that. It was a good secret goodbye I think without anyone knowing (even me) that I would be leaving. I had lots of fun, bitch.

01.27.02 @ Mermaid Lounge w/Schatzi [Revenge of the Nerds/Play without Chuck theme]

01.18.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Deadlock Frequency | Scott Baio Army | Disgruntled I Hate You Face | Coexist [Risky Business theme]

01.12.02 @ Dixie Tavern w/Legion of Divine Punishment | Piss Shit Fuck | Shakespeare in Hell [Smurfs theme]

    Eddie and I saw "Amelie" before this show.  Well actually it was a 9:15 movie and the show was supposed to start at 9:00.  After the movie, only one band had played.  Eddie and I laughed about that.

  The costumes for this show were pretty epic.  Drew shaved the front part of his head to give himself Gargamel's exact baldness pattern.  Drew Bascle was supposed to dress up like Azrael but only brought black clothes.  Then he cried about it and I had to give him a shot of morphine.  The rest of us were painted blue and wore white shorts and white hats.  Except Bryan who wore red accessories so he could be Papa Smurf because he is a megalomaniac.  The paint was cold and we were shirtless. It gave me a rash later and hurt to take off.  Drew painted "Eat a Bag of Dicks" on Eddie's back.  He looked like a big baby in his white clothes.  Truly frightening.

  Chuck got to this show late.  He wore this huge monster mask that was like three feet high.  It must have been fun to see us.  Drew remarked that if he "saw a bunch of dudes dressed up like fucking Smurfs [he'd] be too fucking scared to pit it up."  Bryan gave me the screw job and gave me the short mic.  At least my mic worked.  For ten seconds, anyway. Dirty Justin was at the PA and, luckily, had been drinking.  We couldn't have sounded better.

  We had just finished recording at Chris George's (who Eddie thinks is a pedophile) a few days before, so I actually sort of knew the songs this time.  We played two new songs: Pop Song and Blasting Shit.  These titles would later be changed and lyrics would be appended to them relating to Dungeons and Dragons and proctology.

  This show went well.  We played every thing we could.  We tried to do "We Will Rock You" before the Saints songs but it failed.  We tried to do the "Who Dat?" chant at the end of the Saints song but that failed.  We were going to sing the Smurfs "la la la" song at the end, but that, too, failed.  I have the set list from this show on my door.  Bryan wrote "bitch" after every song, as in "Fuck Your Ass, Bitch" and "September 12, Bitch."

  This was my last show with Eat a Bag of Dicks for the immediate future.  Eric said something about that but no one cared.  That is why I killed myself.

01.02.02 @ The Living Room w/ x Chris Jawge Brah x

  I wasn't actually around when the music was recorded; that was the day of the Ark show.  When we did vocals, it was pretty laid-back.  Except, oh wait, Eddie was there.  As soon as we walked in Eddie asked if he could smoke Chris George's weed.  It was funny but I think Chris thought he was serious so it was a little tense.  We listened to the tracks through once.  It sounded good.  Bryan got in the vocals room.  He recorded the vocals.  Pretty solid.  Bryan came out and bragged to us all how he was "better than Rollins" and would soon "have [his] own publishing company called 'Bryan's Holy Scripture'" and all the books would be about him.

    Then Eric went in.  Eric insisted on taking his clothes off.  The microphone was in his mouth the whole time.  During his part in "Blues Song/Eric's Song" he screeched so off-pitch and cat like that even the insanely low standards of Eat a Bag of Dicks could not condone it.

    Then Drew recorded his vocals, I think.  Eric had a video camera that some drug addict wasn't allowed to have lest he sell it for crack.  Eric claimed his mom let him use it.  Drew did his vocals, no sweat.  His scream was pretty high and his talking during the Saints song fairly earnest.  Drew and Eric did Eric's part in "Eric's Song" together and it became Drew's part with Eric throwing up in the background.

    Then it was time to eat.  Foolishly, we assigned Eddie the task of ordering pizza.  For the six of us, he ordered two large pizzas, bread sticks and cinnamon bits.  No one except him wanted the cinnamon bits but we were all forced to pay for them.  Eddie also wanted to tip the delivery man two dollars.  Eddie is a jerk.  I thought we should have the delivery man do some vocals but we did not actually do this (don't believe those internet rumors!).  We ate and mocked Eddie who eventually began taking pride in his screw job and saying "Ha ha ha. I fucked you all!"  Eddie goes to UMass and smokes weed.  One time a girl peed in his room while he watched her.

    Then I did my parts.  I talked mostly.  I know I said "It doesn't matter who you know, who you fucked" from Glengarry Glenross at some point but I'm pretty sure you won't be able to hear it on the recording.  I actually can't remember most of what I said.  I was sitting on a stool.

   Eddie also recorded his vocals after we ate.  He made animal noises and sang like Rob Halford.  This redeemed his screw job about the pizza, at least in my mind.  Then we were done with the vocals.  Chuck came and did his the next day and they mixed everything with me and Eddie on the L-R channels respectively.  Screwed again by a power-tripping Bryan Funck.

12.29.01 @ The Ark w/x Finer Truth x | Gameover | Structural Damage [Ghostbusters theme]

  Ah, the Ghostbusters show.  I was the actual only Ghostbuster.  Everyone but Drew--who doesn't think Eat a Bag of Dicks is a gimmick band--and Justin dressed up as ghosts.  Except they looked more like KKK members with the cheap ass sheets we had.  I played keyboard at the start of this show.  A spooky, string-laden entrance for the ghosts.  Then we started playing and I busted out my proton pack and got to some paranormal exterminating.

    Suddenly no one had their sheets on but Rob and none of the microphones worked.  I seem to remember the "Who Dat?" chant got glossed over.  Drew was really drunk and his playing was not his best.  He likes to take a drag from his cigarette or a swig from his beer between every part of a song.  Luckily, the rest of us in the band are so tight and have practiced so much that you can't tell there's a snag.

   My mic broke early in this show (if it ever worked at all) and I got tired of beating people with the proton pack and took a seat on a PA speaker.  I got to watch Eddie and Bryan clusterfuck each other for control of a microphone.  Eddie will just have like six dudes on him and he'll flail around like a rhino.  If Eddie was a Magic card he would be a Juzam Djinn: cheap casting cost, lots of damage but hurts you a little bit every turn.

12.25.01 @ Dixie Tavern w/Head Pro | Riot In Progress | Structural Damage | Christ Reverse Psychology Experiment [Christmas theme]

This show was fun.  I wore a Star Trek t-shirt with Lt. Cmdr. Data on it.  Bryan had a paper Santa beard.  We played late.  It was Christmas.  A ton of people were there.  Too many people.  What is wrong with all these people?  I don't remember any "Christ Reverse Psychology Experiment" band playing, but whatever.  Head Pro played, and they were awesome.  They had the fragments of a new song coming together.  It sounds like Don Caballero.  But heavy.  Rumor has it their drummer is into Radiohead now.  What a college boy.

    I can't remember too much about this show.  I had a long mic cord.  It seems there were more girls at this show, and all Eat a Bag of Dicks shows really, than there were at other ones.  Perhaps the wholesale sex appeal of eleven sweaty dudes (well, nine at this point: Scott and Steve were back in Athens and Texas, respectively) can't be denied.  I went into the crowd Christ-like and tried to smile at people and make sure they were having a good time.  I couldn't really tell who I was around because I didn't have my glasses on but I saw some pictures later of me real close so I must have been around someone with a camera.  Funny, I don't remember my soul being sucked out.

    This show was pretty vanilla: fun, but no explosions.  Did we break any mics?  Yes, I think so.  Eric was playing "Not From China" in between songs.  James Whitten from Structural Damage was sitting at the back of the stage with Diana, and I went to them and, he took the mic and wouldn't give it back for a long time.  Bryan was on the mic stand like the rock star he secretly wants to be.  Bryan says he is "the only one who sings a real vocal line" and that everyone else needs to "buckle down and get serious" about this band.  Then he told me we were practicing but we didn't.

12.22.01 @ Checkpoint Charlie's w/The Headwoundz | The Pallbearers [Get the Guy with the Microphone theme]

This is the same night as the Cypress show.  It's the same crew except the big guy roadie disappeared after torturing Drew Bascle.  Everybody changed out of their skirts.  Except Justin and Andrew.  Justin filled out his skirt nicely.

   Checkpoint Charlie's is not a place I have been too often.  The stage is extremely stage; not really a stage yet not a not a stage.  It is a few feet across and has like a bar attached to the front of it.  Not the best set-up for the 11 man Eat A Bag of Dicks that night.  Everyone was tired from the previous show.  Melanie was there and was disappointed by our apparent lethargy.

    The show began in earnest.  Energy picked up a little bit.  I started screaming Persian words.  You know how at every show at a bar there is like the one skinny dirty white guy who like jumps around and sort of goes into convulsions whenever a heavy band plays?  Well he was there. I paid him no mind.  At least not until he jumped on me and ripped the microphone cord out of the mic and smashed it.  Like, he wasn't trying to grab the mic and sing like how Austen Travis sang 50% of the songs at those two Undying shows.  His goal was to destroy our microphones.  Because he liked us.  That last sentence should end with a question mark: ?

    Well, my mic was down for the count.  I moved to the side a little bit and tried to fix it but had a tough time because I couldn't see without my glasses.  I managed to get it working a little bit and started screaming more Persian words.  I got the impression the audience thought they were better than us.  Perhaps because most of the band (not all, most) did not have a sizeable criminal record like they did and could read.  Regardless, we played more songs.  Chuck was on the ground.  No big deal. Oh wait, that same mic smashing guy is kicking him in the head.  Then he jumped on Eddie.  I think this guy tried to do the old Three Stooges eye gouge on Eddie but Eddie just let his eyes be poked out.  Then Eddie took the microphone he had been screaming into and smashed it on the guy's head over and over and over again.  The guy sort of slunk away.  I was right there, I thought I saw his hair turn red.  The mic was dented.  There was more action from that guy, but I can't remember it: regardless, he was an asshole.

  That was that show.  We were even more tired after.  People talked about practicing before the next show but I knew they were joking.  I learned the drummer's name too, finally:  Mike.

12.22.01 @ Cypress Hall w/Skullniks | Dispensers | Hallway Karate | The Kenmores | Eye Q [Catholic School Girl theme]

This was the first time Eddie, Steven, Scott and me had played with the band.  We had practiced that afternoon.  It seems a lot of time was spent gathering microphones; this would become a common practice.  Like forest people gathering sticks for a fire.  You know those sticks won't last, that shit's a fire and it eats it up.

  The show itself was as Cypress Hall which has a lot of the younger kids (it's like the Gilman St. of New Orleans).  It was raining and I drove there with Bryan, and I thought I was going to die because he is a bad driver.  It's not that he lacks skills, he just knowingly makes bad decisions.  A death wish?

  Cypress is a long hallway and bands set up at either ends.  We were at the end without mirrors.  The theme that night was "Catholic School Girls."  Bryan and Drew had scrambled to get skirts but got two less than we needed; as a result, I wore my old Jesuit High School uniform and Steven wore Jesuit PE shorts and a Mt. Carmel sweat shirt.

  There was a big guy who was hanging around us saying he was "with the band" and "would take care of us."  Right before we started playing he pushed people back away from us.  A stupid move since it's nice to have people up front.  Inexplicably, the microphones were all on stands.  Like we were going to stand there and sing like back-up singers?  Who does this shit?  I blame Eric.

  I think we opened with "10 O'Clock in the Morning" aka "I'm Gonna Fuck Your Ass."  This was the first time the song was played.  We played more songs.  The audience was quickly reformed into a pit around the eight of us, gladiator style.  I couldn't see anything because I had my glasses in my pocket.  Eddie was rolling around the ground and Chuck, who had duct tape all over his mouth, was too.  I think Eric's ass was on display.  I'm pretty sure we didn't break any microphones.  Two people were videotaping us and I remember getting in one camera and smiling and thinking "Ha ha ha I am a ray of sunshine and we are 'Eat a Bag of Dicks!'"  We sang "Happy Birthday" to Andy Monteverde and did not tell ASCAP.  Maybe now we will get sued?  The show was over quickly.  It was fun.  The next show would prove not to be.

12.05.01 @ Dixie Tavern w/Twenty-Seven | The Dispensers [Preppie/Dave Matthews theme]

11.17.01 @ Burmaster's Basement w/Face First | The No Shows [Play Ultra Late theme]

11.03.01 @ Dixie Tavern w/Wuornos | Of Death | Hatchback [Undermine Hatchback theme]

10.16.01 @ Dixie Tavern w/400 Blows | Murder in the Red Barn | Hatchback | Absence [First "Real" Show theme]