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