monkeypox

so on sat we went down to portland. show was alright. not a huge turnout but whateva, we had fun. the sound lady told me at one point that she wasnt even sending the amps thru the pa - just vocals. the thing is though, it sounded great. it seems like the more we play, we keep running into these clubs that arnt used to loud bands. so here is my advice for all of you bands out there. turn it up!

so sunday (mothers day) we wake up and decide to go to the acropolis (sp?) for breakfast. maybe its different if you live in portland and you know all the local hideouts, but being from seattle, this place was awsome. steak and eggs for like four bucks and the food was good too. everyone but rachel enjoyed their meal. she complained her eggs were cold, i dont know i was too busy eating my own food to check in on the temp. of her eggs.

for those of you who dont know, the acropolis is aslo a strip club and bar. its rumored that the owner raises his own cattle exclusivley for his resturant. i dont know if thats true or not but the place is seedy, dark, and has good food. aside from the drinks being alittle week and rachel getting cold eggs, the place ruled.

maybe part of the reason it was so much fun is because at like 11am when we were there the place was pretty empty. nothing can ruin the strip club experience like a bunch of frat type rowdy jackasses all trying to be the alpha male. (i hate competition) some of the only other people in the place that day was a group of about five or six guys in their mid to late fortys. now i really shouldnt make fun of the way people dress so i wont go too into detail describing how they looked. (cuz i know it makes me cry when people make fun of me) but this one guy was wearing a purple and dark blue striped button up shirt with a white collar (rugby style maybe?). now there is nothing wrong with the shirt per say except on the back in big white block letters was the phrase "property of state prison". he had on a black belt which also had the phrase repeated across the length of it. his shirt was tucked into his black army fatigue pants complete with cargo pockets. he was a white guy with what im guessing is very straight hair who had tinyest narrow little dreads ive ever seen (korn style maybe?) hanging out from under his just off center baseball cap. maybe they were actually braids not dreads, i cant be sure. he was also wearing black leather fingerless gloves (metal dude) i can only guess that he was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time when his local hot topic suddenly collided with a ross dress for less.

ok, my fashion snobbery aside, those guys were sitting at a table with what looked like some really tacky cookie jars spread out in front of them. one was a white ceramic squirl or bear or somethig. also on the tabels were some framed photographs. upon closer inspection, we realized that the cookie jars were actually urns containing the ashes of thier dead mothers. this was confirmed by the waitress who informed us that the photographs were also of said mothers and were positioned facing the stage.

i asked if the mothers had any relationship with the club, possibly former employees etc. the staff assured us that was not the case and they were just as confused by this perticular display of affection on mothers day, as we were. our waitress said she could somday write a book based on the strangeness wich occurs almost every sunday at the acropolis.

then back in seattle we played with loudermilk at the graeland. i was very tired so if anything interesting happened - i probably wasnt paying much attention.

today im doing laundry and eating left over manwiches!