So I just finished writing this for another forum, and...

Ok, so I went on a trip this summer, starting may ninth and ending on july 28th I was riding my bicycle from Yorktown Virginia, to Florence Oregon, and having a damned good time. After that however, I flew down to Torrance California, which is the town I graduated High School from, and I visited all of my old buds. I was there for 2 weeks, and we crammed some major shit into those 14 days. Anyway, there is a lot of kind of fun stuff to alk about, so I'll just throw some random shit out here right now.

1. The Agent Orange show.
Ok, so I was hanging out with my buddy Greg Brady (yes that is his legal name) in Torrance, trying to think of something to do that night, when our buddy Giovanni (who is the lead guitarist in the band the Fun Boys, whose music you can download from me on SoulSeek) called Greg and told us that Agent Orange was playing at a club in San Pedro, and that we should fucking go. So we fucking went.
So me and greg go and pick some dudes up, greg's girlfriend, Cheryl, and this girl Linsay who was already with us. Oh yeah, and don't forget our buddy Iggy, whose a pretty cool dude.
Anyway, so the club is normally a nightclub where they play Tejano music and the cool young hispanic citizens go there to get drunk and dance, but back in the day, it was just a club, and Agent Orange used to have a lot of gigs there back in their heyday. It was this big Art-deco building with an old fashioned marquee, and ticket booth, and it was pretty cool from the outside. But we got there an hour or two early so we go down to the "El Taqueria" down the street and get some 60 cent tacos or something, but I dont remember because I only got a coke. So this motley crue is standing on the corner (its outdoor seating only, this place is really just a big cement taco stand), and I wonder how we must have looked, emaciated Greg with his *totally* grunge rock flannel and brown pants, Lindsay with the whole Hot Topic thing going on, and a plaid mini-skirt that stopped just soon enough (and ellicited many wistles and honks as we were walking down the street), Cheryl (greg's girl) with her sort of average, I'm still in high school but I'm obviously mature enough to date someone who is not look, Iggy with his whole "I used to be in smashmouth" thing going on (and a sort of ironic Corona meshback hat on, with a Minor Threat patch over the beer logo), and me in my black jeans, and bright pink t-shirt (that reads "Prairie Queen Festival, Cassady Kansas"(yes i got it when i road through kansas). Why does this matter? Because we're fucking scene motherfuckers, and how you dress is who you fucking are! AND DON'T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT. Actually the point is that this was a pretty big show we were going to and all the cool kids were there and we really stood out as obviously not being as hardcore as everyone else, with their tattoos and cigarrettes. ANYWAY, back to the motherfucking taco stand, and the whole point of this ridiculous fucking tangent. Greg sees some guys stopped at the traffic light that he recognizes from some other show, they're driving a bmw, or something (obviously the vehicle of one of their parents) and smoking, and whatever, but just because I give everyone a fair shot, I sort of raise my coke and say "howdy" and the guy in the passenger seat sees me, and totally flips off this stranger in a pink shirt who is just trying to be friendly. Oh well.
So we go back and buy our tickets, and get in, and somehow (possibly because 0% of the staff at is club spoke english as their first language, pelase remember this) I get a wristband allowing me to purchase alcohol from the bar, as do Lindsay, Iggy, Cheryl, and wait... no... NOT Greg. Which is strange, because he is obviously older than our three teeny bopper companions. So we ginside and see Giovanni, and our other friend Drew, (who is a hilarious drunk). Just for kicks (because I never get drunk at shows) I bought a Rum and Coke, for an outrageous $6. This wound up getting consumed by a number of people.
The first band was "Third Grade Teacher," at first I thought they were kind of like, a slightly shittier, more metally version of the Toadies, with a female singer in a prep school uniform. By the end of their set however, I'd determined that they weren't really anything like the toadies, other than the fact that they were really fun, enthusiastic performers, and the guitarist had some really great strat tone going on; outside of those things, they were a lot more intense, a lot heavier, and a lot more psychedelic, and a lot more... "punk?" The singer crawled off the stage on her hands and knees and started dancing amongst the people crowded around the front of the club (including, but not exclusive to, myself, Giovanni, Iggy, and some other people I'd recognized but didn't really know). In other words it was just a fun experience. They weren't as much fun as... say... the CoachWhips, but it was comparable.
The second band was a fucking nightmare. Hardball... all I can say about hardball is that they were all 28+, they encouraged hardcore dancing and called for "BLOOD IN THE MOSHPIT" and played some really horrible original metal, and closed with a Metallica cover. Of course the drunken ass holes who always show up to shows for ... "big name" (haha) bands like Agent Orange really ate up this revolting display of mediocrity. Another thing that really pissed me off about this band was that they couldn't speak without replacing every other word with "fuck" or "motherfucker" and they spoke way to much.
During their set we pretty much sat in the back, and Lindsay kept running back and forth from where we were sitting and the bar, because the bartender was drunk and was giving her free vodka, and Drew was thirsty...
So I didn't get to see the third band because Greg, and Iggy, and Cheryl and I sort of assumed it was going to be terrible, and left the club and walked down the street to a liquor store to get some snacks, and some water. We had to walk 3 or four blocks to do this, because the club we were at charged 3 dollars for a halfassed glass of soda. So we get our H two the motherfucking O, and walk back, and because we can't bring drinks from the outside the club, inside the club, we're forced to stand outside as all the Leather Jackets (exploited, adicts, etc fans) and the Eye Patched Emo Kids (Thursday, etc, fans) smoked their cowboy killers, and looked punk rock. We just kind of talk, I make jokes about how un-punk rock I feel, and how I wished I had some groovy tats, or a cigarette or something, so I'd feel more punk rock, and remark that I'm calling my hairstylist in the morning, etc. Cheryl goes inside to find Lindsay, and comes back out and says she can't find her inside, and have we seen her out here? Well ten seconds later we look down the street and on the other side of a phone booth attached to the far right face of the club entrance, another drunken, ill-thought-out, punk rock romance is being consumated in the orange glow of San Pedro street lamps. ow hardcore of me to put it that way. I told you guys Drew is a happy drunk didn't I? So is Lindsay.
So finally we go back in, and we hear the bad news, the third band was actually really good. What were they like? I have no clue, but I didn't really mind though, because AGENT ORANGE, was coming on in a few minutes.
So Agent Orange Starts playing, and the real moshpit starts. You know, the biggest mosh pit of the night, because veryone has been waiting for this band etc etc etc. Luckily there were a ton of drunken meat-heads there to ruin it; you know how it is, the 2 drunken ass holes that weigh something like 280 pounds and walk around in a circle scowling, rapidly nodding their heads, and shoving people as hard as they can, into other people. One of them got me pretty bad, but luckily I'm a pretty big dude (6'1" 195 pounds) and later I sort of flew into his face with my elbow and landed on the ground, as if I'd been shoved by another really big ass hole, and his nose was bloodied, and the dead mosh pit had been avenged. I also ran into the singer from Hardball, and I grabbed him by his shoulders and started screaming "Your band sucks and you can't sing" at him over and over again, and he called me a motherfucker and I never saw him again. Of course this is really a truly minor side note next to the great performance by Agent Orange. They might be over the hill, but theyre not the Adicts. They played their surf-inflected punk rock tunes with the flawless skill that comes from years of experience, their equipment was top notch, and they rocked with the enthusiasm that comes from playing in your hometown, in your home-club, front of a hundred sweaty fans. (For those of you interested in this sort of thing (and I know I am) the singer guitarist played a Fender Jazzmaster reissue, through 2 Crate V-50 combo amps, the drummer had some... pearl... drums or something (nice, but I'm unfamiliar with it) and the bassist had a Gibson Thunderbird IV, and I never got to see his amp, but whatever). They played all their older fan favorites (living in darkness, I kill spies, bloodstains etc), some newer songs I was unfamiliar with, and some fun covers, including Secret Agent Man, and semi-psychedelic version of Pipeline. Not very hardcore, but then again, it was also totally unpretentious, and a ton of fucking fun, so fuck anyone who is too good to go and see agent orange the next time they're playing your town. They're way better than any other old, dead, SoCal band I've seen... like... say... the Adolescents. In fact, Agent Orange kicks your ass.
So after the show we hun out outside, got back into the club through a side door (the security guards dont speak english either, so we (me and iggy) just sort of made like we were supposed to be there, and went in through the stage entrance and got to talk to the drummer, and bassist as they signed a few hundred posters for the club owner, iggy and greg left and I tried to get a poster from the owner of the club, but he told me to fuck off and I called him a scumbag, told Agent Orange they were awesome, and left. We went back down to the liquor store and got more H2O, and talked to some peeps a little more, and und greg, and drove off to drop off those that we had picked up.
Because I was basically living this transient lifestyle of sleeping in random people's houses while I was in torrance, and Greg was visiting from Orange County (which is where his parents moved afer he graduated with me in 2003), Iggy said we could sleep at his (parent's) house. We got there and his older sister (24+) and her boyfriend are in the kitchen getting drunk and laughing and having a good old time. They've been mixing drinks with this rum cocktail called "Mojito" and offer some to Greg and I, and I tell them about how I road my bicycle across the country, and they're all fucking impressed, and think I'm insane and whatever. Shortly after I stopped talking and had a chance to drink a little, Greg and I discovered that Mojito is the most disgusting thing in the world. I read the ingredients and found out that is ly 25% alcohol, and its flavored with Green Apples and Coconut. This stuff was rancid, let me tell you. Iggy's sis, and her BF, told us that we'd better finish it though, so we had a glassor two and left it on the counter.
Then we went upstairs to Iggy's parents room (they were away on vacation) which is where iggy's computer is, and we checked our e-mail, and eventually it degenerated to Greg and I sort of falling asleep next to each other on he bed of Iggy's parents as we watched Iggy surf the internet. I woke up 3 hours later (6am) and went downstairs and slept on the couch. Around 10 am, I woke up and greg was on the lazy boy across the living room, and low and behold, what is sitting behind the lazy boy? Thats right, amidst the debris and bottles leftover from 2 weeks of this house being run by Iggy and his sister, and sitting un-loved in the corner of their living room behind the lazy boy occupied by my good friend Greg, sat a 12 string Ovation acoustic, and I did my duty and woke greg up with some early morning 12 string loveliness. I apologized, went upstairs, got on AIM for a little bit, then me and Greg woke Iggy up around noon, and we three did decide that it would be a great great thing if we were to go to Panda Express for lunch, and we did.


The End.

 

i can't believe i actually read all that...

 

Where's 2. ?

 

I can't belive I didn't read it, but atleast I'm posting a comment on it.

 

I read it and considered it more interesting than say... MSDOS, or outboard soundcards, so I figured it was worthy of sharing with you all. It obviously heald your attention long enough, so dont act like you didn't enjoy it...

 

So that was your summer vacation? Very good sleek, but it was little retard's turn to go.

Sounds quite swag you groovy little horndog, sounds like you had a kick ass time. Why should I care? I don't know, which is why I don't. But still, glad you didn't suffer through summer break. I've been meaning to cut my one swath of destruction across the states too, but never I haven't gotten around to it.

If Rosie can't act like she didn't enjoy it, I'm going to act like I did. I thought it was fabulous, and I just have this odd feeling you look very good in pink. Very nice ending, it's a classic. Makes it seem like a drunken, punk version of Cinderella going to the ball. And Cinderella of course is a bulking, nigh-socialist dude in a pink, Kansas pride t-shirt.

As I said, never gotten to cali. Are the chicks there really as hot as they say?

Oh god, Mojito. It should be a sin to put that little alcohol with that much coconut.

 

THATS WHAT WE SAID!!

Anyway, yeah thanks for actiing like you enjoyed it. The girls in California are pretty attractive compared to say... Kentucky, but thats not to say we didn't see some atttractive women in Kentucky, only that I saw more in Califonrnia. I don't understand the cinderella comparison, but yeah... I think I can survive knowing that there is one more thing in this universe that I don't understand.

 

Blood everywhere. Someone had to have died.

Bravo!

 

The was a mosh pit. Which of course means several people and at least one large farm animal were brutally bludgeon to death.

 

So you are gay?

 

^^ or from kansas? Or both you hick fruitloop?

 

No, but I enjoy making people uncomfortable, and homophobes are people too.

 

Heh...SeaDog and I went to a...sort of...giant, public dance class, for lack of a better phrase, last year, with a couple of female friends...anyway, after dinner, we went down to some mini-dance hall they set up...half the fun was jumping on each other's backs and getting dirty looks from middle-aged men ...

 

now I've read it, and I enjoyed it, good job.

 

I think you aren't a man unless you've gotten drunk on beer. It takes a serious amount of beer to do that. It's not like spirits where you can take a quick half dozen shots and be done for the night - you've got to have the intestinal fortitude to keep on drinking, and it can't be done while your parents have gone out for half an hour and you've broken into their cabinet.

In short, I think that story was a giant waste of time. The only thing I want more details on would have been the fights, if any, from that night.

 

I hate beer, I think its isgusting. The only drinks I like are straight Rum, and Vodka (though i'll have the occasional screw driver). I don't think I'm any less of a man for preffering this, low calorie, hi-ctane, alternative to beer. I don't think I could drink enough beer to get shit faced anyway, it takes at least 5 shots (depending on size) to get me barely drunk, and it takes about 10 to get me wasted, but I don't know if my standard of wasted is quite the same as yours,considering I've never seen double while drunk, I've always known how drunk I am, I've never been too drunk not to know when to stop, and I've never passed out. I've also never had a hang over...

So yeah, anyone who had questions about the smoke/drink no/no thing in my myspace thing (i think there was someone who asked about this, and then called me a sober party break) yes, that is incorrect. When I say I don't drink, I mean that I only get drunk about 4 times a year, and I never drink beer.