Well... fuck. I'm running on empty -- Running wild.

After a blur in Brussels we bounced over to Amsterdam for our much anticipated stop at the famous Leidseplien Theatre. It made me sad to leave our friends Benoit and Lien and Andrew in Belgium. If there's one down side to touring it's the limited amount of time you have in each city, and the people and relationships you're forced to leave behind. There are so many bonds prematurely broken and severed, so many things left unsaid and unfinished, and so much left to the imagination. Over and over, it's one night only, then you're gone like a fart in the wind... But shit, what's a motherfucker to do? The show must go on.

Our show in Amsterdam was classic. It was, by far, the best show of the tour. The theater was packed with over 200 people, the staff was great, and the crowd was loving it. After the show we headed to a bar called the Sugar Factory. The dark, smoky club was packed with trustafarians and scenesters, and it even had a hash bar complete with a one armed DJ. If you've never seen a DJ scratch with his nub, stoned, you've never lived, my friend. The DJ was accompanied by a live band, which included a lovely sax player named Scarlet whose tight white jeans showed off some serious hoof-cookie. Shit was classic. We drank, smoked and danced the night away with our new-found friends from the theater. Even Davy partook in a lil smoke session. Afterwards we stumbled back to the theater and raided their refrigerator for apple pie and drumsticks.

The next day we checked out Amsterdam for a bit before heading to Copenhagen. One thing I had learned was to stop trying to predict what each night would be like. It really was hit or miss most nights. After a long, hungover drive to Copenhagen we arrived at the venue with no idea what was about to happen. Would anyone be there? It was a cold, rainy night and we figured the show would be a bust. We got to the venue just a few minutes before show time... The joint was packed, 150 strong.

After our gig we went out with a couple of Danish chicks who offered to show us around. We headed to a few bars, drank some local brews, and indulged in some treats I brought from Amsterdam. For a couple macro-economic majors, these girls sure knew how to party. They introduced us to their favorite beverages, and several shots later I woke up in an all-women's dormitory stripped down to my boxers with a pounding headache and my pants-pockets full of bar receipts and foreign coins... I'd say the night was a success.

After a day of wandering around Copenhagen stoned we busted out for Malmo. We did our show at a tiny bar which was once again packed. So far, the shows had been getting better as the tour progressed. It seemed like word was beginning to spread about our tour and we were gaining a little momentum. After the show we buddied up with a filmmaker named Amil and he took us to some of his favorite bars around town. We went from party to party, drinking funny-sounding drinks, meeting all his artist friends, and of course defending capitalism and Barack Obama over and over (these Swedes be playa hatin' fo real! Obama's too centrist for them, but they don't get what we've been through with Bush)... It's funny going out with fans after a show. To them we're superstars, touring around Europe city to city, living the rock and roll lifestyle and getting drunk every night. If they only knew how pathetic our lives were: the graffiti-strewn basement hallways we sleep in, the broke-down cars we drive, the voice mails from student loan officers -- the constant struggle to find the balance between making art and making a living. But throughout the tour I've realized how blessed I am. Just being able to say I love what I do for a living, throw back another shot of some funky foreign concoction, then heading out to another city – I couldn't be happier.

Tomorrow's my birthday and the election – we're gonna party like we have a Black President.

Finally -- Below is a link to a radio interview we did in Amsterdam. Shit is quite ridiculous. You might have to scroll down their page a little to see the FOUND interview...

FOUND Interview in Amsterdam

After doing a grueling 18 shows in 22 nights in the UK it was finally time to head to the mainland.  We scheduled a couple days off to spend with our friend Benoit in Brussels. Benoit actually joined us on the road for part of the U.S. tour last year, so he knew how much we needed rest, nourishment, and a chance to regroup and clean up. He was also nice enough to lend us is apartment while he stayed at his girlfriend's flat nearby. In a heated and somewhat controversial paper/rock/scissor contest Peter won Benoit's room and comfy bed, I got the couch, and Davy took the kitchen floor. Brett the sword swallower was relegated to a bean bag.

Our first order of business was heading to Paris to perform at this uber-exclusive, trendy bookshop/lounge called Colette. Throughout the tour, every time I mentioned the show at Colette people seemed shocked. They were no doubt impressed, but at the same time a bit confused and dumfounded as to how we managed to book this joint. I was eager to see what all the fuss was about. After all, Colette was one of the first places to ever sell FOUND Magazine at their store. I think only Shaman Drum in Ann Arbor and Quimby's in Chicago carried it before they did.

We get there, and this store is pretty dope. Besides having a bar and restaurant, it has three floors of full of cool books and magazines, records and CDs, designer sneakers – basically anything remotely hip. Everyone that worked was dressed like MTV's freshest, new VJ. One poor guy sported a hot blue beanie which matched his belt, which matched his wristband, which matched his Nikes. It sorta felt like I was back in LA. We did our show and the crowd was really into it. Afterwards we walked around Paris drinking whiskey out of the bottle and wandering the winding streets in and out of different bars and cafes I couldn't pronounce. My personal highlight was seeing this burly French dude karaoke Natalie Imbruglia's song "Torn." What an incredible city... Also, if you've never heard an Asian woman with a French accent when you're shit-face drunk, it can be a bit unnerving.

Back in Brussels, scissors beat paper, so I was settling nicely into Benoit's kitchen - a harsh reminder that we were still living the tour life. But I made the best of it, using his coffee maker for an alarm clock and several oven mitts for a pillow.

The next day we did some beer tasting, shopping, and sight seeing before our show in Brussels at a record shop called Veals and Geeks. I was kinda sad to find neither veal nor geeks at the venue, but everyone who worked at the store was hella cool, so afterwards a bunch of us went out for the first of two ridiculous nights in Belgium.

Tapas, hash, and Bush-bashing came first, followed by jello shots, our sword swallower balancing a bunch of shit on his face, then more hash. Then of course came the involuntary drunken late night kebab stop, which undoubtably gives you some extremely aggressive Hershey-squirts the next morning.

After the third day of us taking over Benoit's apartment, the smell was getting pretty rank. The constant burping, farting, and shitting had made his apartment reek of something god awful (think a bums nut-sack soaked in old, rotten air-conditioner water). It was the caliber of stench that instantly triggered your gag reflex - lucky for Brett, our sword swallower, he didn't have one.

That night we went out BIG. We met up with some of Benoit's friends and before I knew it we were drinking yards of beer, dancing on tables, and listening to a lot of really bad techno. Damn these muthafuckers like techno... I harassed a Texan, attacked Davy with a trash bag, then passed out next to Benoit's broiler.

On to Amsterdam...

Let's see what's happened since the last time we spoke...

We finished our leg in Scotland with a great show at the beautiful Peacock Visual Arts Centre in Aberdeen. We traveled back down the UK to Bristol, Coventry and Cambridge on our way back to London. Here's a quick summary of some high-points/low-points:

-I got mugged in Aberdeen by four Scottish thugs. Lucky for me, they only wanted my pizza.
-I spontaneously DJ'd at an Indian restaurant and taught their cook how to scratch.
-I got drunk on a boat which only served hard cider and only played old school 90's hip-hop, including Candyman.
-We got the 50 year-old sales rep from our publishing company so hammered he vomited in a fountain.
-We had some drunk fuck urinate on the window behind our performance in Coventry (while Davy was doing his reading).
-I blazed a fatty and listened to the last Presidential debate while driving through the night from Scotland to Wales.
-I may have fathered a child in Bristol.
-I exercised my God-given rights by pissing on the sacred Claire College green in Cambridge after being informed they expelled a girl for simply walking on the grass... Freedom!
-Peter gave it to one of our lamer, more reserved crowds in Coventry between songs. "Did someone in here die? You guys look really depressed... Go get a drink or something."
-I got to watch our narcoleptic sword swallower do a spontaneous show for the customs officials in Belgium to prove he was legit, and not just another Al Qaeda sideshow operative.
-I drank a bottle of Moet on the train to Brussels with two random U of M alumni... Go Blue!
-We had to turn in the Jaguar and rent a new car in the mainland. We've now been downgraded to a Cadillac.
-I got sick from a chicken gyro I bought off "The Trailer of Life" in Cambridge... The lesson I learned that night - Never eat food from a restaurant that has wheels.

I guess that's all I have for now. We're just about halfway done with the tour and we're on our way to Paris... More updates to come.

It's all the same
Only the names have changed
Everyday
Feels like I'm wasting away

Tour life is beginning to take its toll and the fun is slowly killing me. But in a good way.

We finally left Ireland and headed north to Scotland; winding through the rolling hills and countryside lined with tiny villages, B & B's, and sheep farms. Our first stop was Edinburgh, and we got there early enough to walk around and check out the city. Edinburgh is magnificent. It boasts amazing centuries-old stone architecture, beautiful university buildings and parks, but all with a very metropolitan feel. It's kinda like the New York City of the Shire. It also sits right on the ocean which is pretty dope. Peter and I checked out Scotland's National Gallery while Davy did some press, then we grabbed a quick bite to eat before the show.

The Forest Cafe, a hip co-op style cafe was our host and the place was packed; maybe 120 or so people. Sitting at the back bar I watched in awe. Here were over a hundred people in Edinburgh, Scotland to check out a FOUND show!... What an amazing feeling - seeing that we had reached people in such distant corners of the world, so far from where we started, in a tiny basement in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

After the show some locals offered to take us to a party and we were happy to tag along. We walked several city blocks, pints of cider in hand, to a flat across town. Upstairs, in a packed apartment a group of college girls celebrated their friend's 21st birthday. The party spilled onto the back deck where Davy and I met a friendly American exchange student named Magnus.

"You guys know I have the biggest ball-sack of anyone you'll ever meet!" he said, way too enthusiastically.

I turned for a lighter, and before I even had a chance to respond I was greeted with a pinata sized scrotum.

A few beers later I sat in the kitchen conversing with a super fine history major named Sophie. Wet talked about this-and-that, and it felt like we were really connecting. Until Magnus reared his ugly head again (literally).

"Where in the States are you from?" I asked him, trying to move the focus away from his giant sized balls.

"Michigan," he said.

"No way. Shut the fuck up!" I said, and I pointed to Davy. "We're both from Michigan too! Where in Michigan are you from?" I quickly asked.

"Ann Arbor," he said.

As it turns out, this dude grew up in Ann Arbor, right down the street from us. Davy was even good friends with his older brother, Fergus in high school. Coincidence or fate? I'll let you decide... Way to represent Magnus!

Later Davy and I walked back to the apartment where we were staying.

"You know, we should call Magnus's brother" Davy proposed. "I think I have his phone number."

Thirty seconds later Davy was leaving a message on his voicemail.

"Hi Fergus it's Davy Rothbart... long time no see. So I was at a party in Edinburgh tonight and just met your little brother, Magnus. He was walking around the party showing everyone his nut-sack. Pretty impressive... Anyway, gimme a ring so we can catch up."

Day Two in Scotland was a bit more tame... but not by much. We did our FOUND song and dance for about fifty or so people at The Sub Club in Glasgow. Afterwards, a guy name Jack offered to show us around town. Turns out this guy spent some time in Michigan too - in Kalamazoo. He actually knew a few of the same people we did - kids he went to junior high with before his family moved to Scotland. We met up with some of his buddies at a bar called Nice and Sleezy's, a dive bar that served til 3 am. The six of us drank and talked for hours, cutting it up with our new friends and exchanging our favorite stories from home. We even showed them how to play beer pong before heading back to their apartment to crash. It was truly a cross-cultural experience.

Back at Jack's pad we hung out with his roommates, a couple kooky Scotish stoners-girls names Jude and Amy. They were so funny, and so full of laughs. Outkast and Chinese take-out soon followed, and as a ray of sunlight cut through the blinds I dragged my weary body to ratty old couch to crash on. And as I laid awake, I and thought of my journey so far, and the trip tomorrow, and the day after, and so on...

I'm getting too old for this shit.

Also... Here is my new favorite website:

Andrew's new favorite website

Before the show in Dublin I was a tad bit nervous. Not about how many people would show up, but because the show was at a 200-year-old church. It was a Unitarian Church, but still, the FOUND show can be pretty vulgar at moments, with plenty of references to pre-marital sex, drinking, gratuitous drug use, and poop. I wasn't sure what was out of bounds in a house of God. Davy began the show, and I watched nervously from the merchandise table as the minister and his wife took in the show from the back of the church.

Halfway through the show, they seemed to be enjoying it, but I knew that Peter would soon get to his infamous song "The Booty Don't Stop," a cover of a homemade booty track found in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and a tribute to a certain part of the female anatomy. I was afraid that Peter's performance would wipe the smiles from both their faces and instantly send our unholy spirits straight to hell. His tribute to bubble-butts, I feared, was likely to go over as well as a fart in church. There was one verse I was particularly nervous about; it goes like this:

David and Goliath
Moses and the sea
Noah and his punk-ass ark don't mean a thing to me

But mighty is the crescent
And holy is the hole
So baby let's get biblical and I'll show you the score

We were surely doomed...

But to my delight, the preacher and his wife erupted in huge belly laughs, and so did the rest of the audience. After the show a couple college girls offered to show Davy and I around Dublin. The four of us walked to a bar, and before I knew it I was dancing to Thriller and double-dutching the night away. After that, two dudes named Brian took us to a dive bar. More drinking, dancing, and improving foreign relations ensued, as we refuted the notion that we are in fact North American Scum. From what I remember, we gorged on Indian food, bumped into two other girls (one dressed-up as Waldo, the other as a bumble-bee), then took a cab home. Go Irish!

We woke up late and headed to Cork. After a late arrival, we powered through one of our better shows. Afterwards, the promoter - a dope fellow named Ronan - threw an after-party for us at a Reggae club down the street. Many Guinness's later, I saw the most wicked girl-on-girl brawl I've ever seen. These two chicks were growling at each other, pulling out clumps of hair, and even spitting on one another. Maybe one of them couldn't get into the FOUND show?...

Also... You know that stereotype about how Irish people like to drink? Well...some stereotypes exist for a reason: because they're true. People were HAMMERED! In the five block walk from the bar, I witnessed three fights, two people vomiting (including a drunk cop), belligerent singing, and far too many group-hugs/scrums. I felt like I was in East Lansing.

The next day we headed to Galway, about a four hour drive... I should note that our car rental company screwed up our reservation. We reserved a Honda CRV that had plenty of room for all our cargo, but since they f'ed it up, they made it up to us by renting us a Jaguar for the same price. Yahtzee!

So there we were, jetting through Ireland in our Jag, in what I can undoubtably say was the most beautiful, scenic drive of my life. Rolling neon-green meadows, cobblestone fences, spectacular ocean views, waterfalls; it was straight out of a Irish Springs commercial. At one point I thought we were going to hit a unicorn for sure. In fact, I think I saw one or two pots of gold.

That being said, I've arrived here in Galway, and I'm about to go DJ.

Also... Here's a link to a drunken conversation/interview between Davy, myself and a reporter from the BBC after one of our shows. Hope you enjoy my rant about my broken love-life. (It starts about 1/3 of the way through the show).

FOUND BBC interview

Well, we made FOUND history last night in Newcastle!

Last night was the smallest event in the history of FOUND Magazine. You heard right... Six people! Apparently we're not too big in Newcastle. But I didn't say it was the worst show ever!... Just the most... intimate.

What do you say about a show for six people? At one point a woman spilled her beer and Davy stopped the performance to help her clean it up. Afterwords we got a chance to chat and have a beer with the entire crowd... at one table.

All joke aside, the show was... memorable. And the half-dozen people that did come saw a kick ass show! I even tried to bribe a homeless man into the show with a cigarette, but even he wasn't havin it. I guess it just wasn't our night. It was bound to happen. Also, it was the first day of classes at the University, so maybe that could have been the reason for the low numbers.

But on to Holyhead. That's right... Holyhead (insert joke here)

After the FOUND gathering in Newcastle we decided to drive straight through to Dublin. The only catch was we needed to take a ferry, so we would have to get a hotel room, then take the ferry the next day from Holyhead. Went spent next day in Holyhead, doing what most Holyheaders do. We did some sightseeing, went to the beach, ate some grub, then caught the ferry... But not before a rigorous security check.

SECURITY GUARD: Do you have any knives, weapons, or illegal contraband in the car?

ME: (in my head) Like the seven swords my traveling magician friend has packed away in our trunk?
ME: (out loud) No.

SECURITY GUARD: No firearms, or weapons of any kind?

ME: (in my head) He didn't say drugs, did he?
ME: (out loud) No, sir.

He waved us through.

We arrived in Dublin just a few hour ago and I'm already sipping a Guinness. We ate a wonderful meal with some old friends from Ann Arbor (thanks Atabey and Joe!), then went out to a local pub for a few pints. I got some press shit early tomorrow, so I'm gonna hit the hay.

Oh, also!... One last word... Sorry for all the sloppy grammar. Sometimes I sometimes write these rather quickly, from my phone, or half-drunk (usually all three). My apologies.

Til next time.

I'm writing this blog from the sofa in the art gallery where I slept last night in Manchester.

But before I explain how I got here, let's recap our last show at Lost Society in London.

After filling up on Thai Food we headed to the venue for our last show in London for a few weeks. I was especially excited to meet a super-fan of ours named Jonathan who emailed us and let me know he was coming. Jonathan posts the funniest, craziest comments on our message board about all the different notes we post online. He's known for his rediculous one-liners and rants about whatever note has been posted that day, so I was psyched to meet this nutty Brit face-to-face for the first time... After our show he came and introduced himself.

So, Jonathan is a 55 year-old, extemely proper businessman... I thought for sure this dude was gonna be some teenage punk rocker or skateboarding backpacker. It just showed me how lucky we are to have such a diverse group of fans. Also, I was really happy to meet up with one of our friends from last year's tour, Heather. It was great to see her face... And it brought me back to last fall's tour - and several embarrising text messages.

Monday we were off to Manchester.

We arrived at the venue late, and immediately I had a bad feeling about the show. The art gallery's owner apparently didn't even know we were coming til earlier in the afternoon, and I didn't even see a flyer for the show. As showtime rolled around, only about 15 people had gathered in the gallery/performance space, but as the show went on, the place got packed! Mostly because of the band we were playing the gig with, a group called To Sophia. These guys are wicked! (see I'm starting to pick up their lingo) They're sort of an acoustic drum-and-bass group, complete with a very, very attractive lead singer named Najia. She was one of the people responsible for bringing us to Manchester (thanks Najia!).

After Davy and Peter's set, To Sophia played for a packed house, and afterwards the rowdy crowd bought-up tons of mags, books, t-shirts, and anything else they could get their hands on. Many of them came to see the band, but I think were surprised to enjoy a great show.

Afterwards, we all stayed up drinking and talking for hours; chatting it up out on the roof of the gallery which overlooked the city. Around 1-ish, one of the fellas offered to take me to a nearby club. I wasn't going to say no. We walked for a couple blocks, entered some grimy basement club, and there I was, surrounded by a hundred or so peeps getting down to some amazing DJs, a couple MCs rapping atop some hardcore Jungle music, I scammed a few drink tickets and bumped into a girl named Sonia (or was it Sarah?) Either way... She was SMOKING HOT, and not afraid to show it.... The only thing she knew about California was the TV show "The Hills" (which apparently is quite popular here). We danced, talked, then smoked a joint and got some pizza. It sooned turned romantic, and as the night turned to morning I made my move...

"Thanks so much for showing me around tonight," I said.

I looked deep into her big green eyes.

"Just remember... Love isn't measured in hours, or days, or weeks or years," I said.

"Then what is it measured in?" She asked, longingly.

I held her close...

"I dunno, Sarah. I guess it's measured by what two people had together. It's not about tomorrow, or the next day... It's about right now,"

"It's 'Sonia" she repied. "Not Sarah..."

Where do I begin?

Thursday's show was one that I shall never remember... Upon our arrival at The Living Room; a chic restaurant/bar in the college town of Oxford, we were greeted by our hosts with another open bar tab and a fabulous meal compliments of the owners. I must say, these Europeans know how to treat their guests. None of that $20 bar tab crap we have to put up with in the states. Everything was on the house - and we took full advantage.

The show went down as usual, and the trendy crowd deemed to dig it. Personally, my favorite part of touring is watching the bartender's and waitstaff's reaction to the show. These folks really have no idea what they are in for. They just clock-in without any knowledge or expectations. Most often they usually end up loving it, and leave with a couple mags in hand and a interesting story for their friends. After our performance in the restaurant's stylish side-lounge we packed up our gear and headed back to London for some much needed shut eye.

Friday's show was a bit more memorable...

We arrived early in Brighton; a college town of 300,000 or so on the south shore. The venue was great; a nice size room above an old bar called the Quadrant Pub. It was the kind of bar my friends and I would have chilled at back in Michigan. They had the Motown tunes blaring, people were smokin' trees on the back deck, and they had a super friendly waitstaff complete with a freestyle-rapping cook named Chig The Challenge. We dubbed him British Bone - because he rapped double-time like Bone Thugs N Harmony.

The place was packed, and it was definitely the best reception we've had on tour thus far. The room was full of laughter, and the booze was flowing once again... But after the show is when the shit got really crazy.

We were led to an after-party by an acquaintance of Peter's named Jacob he knew from Michigan. I talked a girl I met named Cassie into coming with us, and the five of us rolled to this shindig which was a few miles away near the university.

How can I clearly paint a picture of this party for you and do it justice? It was a rave. In a field. In the middle of nowhere. Below the glowing moon in a pasture (complete with cow-shit and all) were about 500 kids - drinking, smoking, dancing and rocking out to Drum and Bass (glow sticks included). It was ridiculous. Kids were doing Poi, huffing paint, and loving life. I spent most of the night in the reggae tent; a 30X30 tent so clouded with herb smoke you couldn't see the to the other side. The highlight of the night was watching some dude accidentally drink a bottle of gasoline he mistook for water. That, and introducing the boisterous crowd to Hollowman. We indulged in all our new friends had to offer, and the last thing I remember was cleaning manure off my shoes at a Burger King at 7am. I pounded a much-needed sausage, egg and cheese crossandwich and we headed back to London as the sun began to rise. There are plenty of details I'll leave out for legal purposes, but lets just say I had one of the craziest nights I've had in some time. Thank you to all our new friends in Brighton! We can't wait to come back!

I woke up late and worked most of the day on more press. After a late lunch we headed out for our first show of the tour. I was violently hungover from last night's debauchery, so I wasn't to pleased that we had to walk through 3 blocks of fish markets to get to the venue.

But the show couldn't have gone better! Although the sound man did take one look at us then padlocked the dressing room. Brett swallowed several small appliances, Davy drank his way through his set, and Peter wooed the ladies with his classic folk-homage to booty-rap. All-in-all it was a great start to the tour. The crowd of Londoners lapped it up as we took full advantage of the free pizza and brew. I was nervous to see what the reaction would like here, but the show killed as usual.

Afterwards we caught the Tube back to Camden, but not before a quick stop at MFC - a ghetto-ass KFC knockoff. Let's just say this... Eating KFC (or MFC for that matter) is kinda like having sex with a porn star. Although it seems like a good idea when you're drunk - afterwards you just feel greasy, gross, and full of regret.

That's all for now kids. Oxford is tomorrow...

First off... Let's start today's blog with my own mother's response to my last post. As you can see, she wrote me in all caps, perhaps for added emphasis. God bless her.

ANDY, YOU BETTER SLOW DOWN AND PACE YOURSELF, YOU'RE NOT 18 ANYMORE! SERIOUSLY, TAKE IT EASY ON THE DRINKING. MAY I SUGGEST YOU FOCUS YOUR JOURNAL WRITING ON OBSERVATIONS AND EMOTIONS AND EXPRESSING YOURSELF. YOU DO THAT WELL.
PLEASE GET ENOUGH SLEEP, I DO NOT WANT YOU TO END UP IN A HOSPITAL SOMEWHERE IN EUROPE. IT IS EASY TO GET RUN DOWN WHEN YOU ARE POWER TRAVELING.AND EAT YOUR FRUITS AND VEGGIES! DRINK PLENTLY OF FLUIDS ( I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE NO PROBLEM THERE) BUT I MEAN JUICES ...
BACK IN THE USA, THE STOCK MARKET DROPPED 777 POINTS YESTERDAY, AND THE PANIC IN WASHINGTON CONTINUES... SO MUCH FOR ANY LEADERSHIP THERE.
BE GRATEFUL FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY AND BE PRESENT IN EACH WONDERFUL MOMENT YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN. THIS TRIP MAY CHANGE YOUR LIFE!
LOVE YOU , MOM

Let's move on.

Tuesday we did press all day, highlighted by a stop at BBC World Wide, which carries a listening audience of over 50 million.

I'll paraphrase. (in a strong British accent)

"In Rwanda... Cases of rape and violence against women have skyrocketed the last few months... Women are beginning to fend for themselves, taking self-defense courses to counter the growing trends... But first... The literature of liter... We talk with FOUND Magazine's Davy Rothbart."

So after that, Davy and I grabbed some Subway like the dumb Americans we apparently are. I went with the Italian BMT. I will warn you that they do not have yellow mustard over here. Only Dijon. So if you are expecting yellow mustard, you will be disappointed. Just a warning.

After a few more stops we headed to meet our British publishers for Dinner and drinks. We weren't really sure what to expect. Would they be cool? Would they be hot? We had no idea... Well, about 10 bottles of wine later, we decided they we're definitely cool, and beginning to look hot. We had an amazing meal at a gastro pub (an upscale bar with food), then went to a local dive bar for more drinks and pool. We shut the place down, but not before I made friends with a dude named Damir - an American football fan.

"Scott Mitchel is the greeted Lion's quarterback of all time!" he declared. "Him or Eric Kramer."

I knew we were instantly going to be friends. Especially after our in depth conversation about Scotty Vines.

Davy, Peter, Brett and Anna headed home, but I stuck with Damir for obvious reasons. He led me to some sheek club and we boozed til 3am with his friends, and I introduced them to the Hollowman. Afterwards I got lost as hell - But thanks to good friends, cell phones, and mapquest (thanks Bradford), I finally arrived home safe.

I guess that's all for now. Our first show is tonight...

Oh, and mom... I'm eating plenty of fruits and veggies!!