Spanish, Ontario Easter Friday, enroute to Toronto from Thunder Bay.

The Vance Motel, smack dab in the middle of Nowheresville, North America. Attached was a nice little Pub that was opened until well beyond even Alan's beer quota (pretty late.) They claim that they've never met a REAL band before (how much does a guitar go for in this town...or a frickin gazoo?). After Alan and Ryan suck back about 6 Bourbon shots (David Lee Roth shit is dead guys) a few beers and a half pack of MY smokes (What's the best thing about not smoking, Tiger?) we/I decide we should probably go to bed.

2:38 a.m. there's a knock on our door, "I'll get it." stumble. stumble. "I like you Jay."

"Thanks Ryan." I'm in bed and getting a little grumpy. Ryan opens the door, "Hallo?..who's there?"

From behind the door I saw nothing. It still had the bolt on it, "Hey, what are you guys doin?" They sounded girly and WAY too young to be out on their own. They also didn't speak Spanish, nor even sound remotely exotic.

"Nothin. What r you guys doin?" Ryan seems a little too welcoming for my liking. What can I say? He likes a nice party after a couple beers. Although, he did have both of his eyes closed as he was talking..or rather, yelling. Whatever.

"We're sleeping, Tiger."

"Yeah, we're sleeping. 'Night." Ryan says nothing else and slams the already bolted door behind him and sways back to bed beside me.

"What'd they look like, buddy."

"I dunno, Jay. I don't think I could see." (Hhmm no glasses. Eyes closed. Guess that's reasonable) "I think there were four of them, though. Or two, or somethin." Ryan hits the pillow and falls asleep.

 

Easter Monday on our way back through

Two doors down from The Vance at a diner/dirty spoon place called The Picnic Basket. It's quaint. I go in for an overdue drain of my bladder. The bathroom has a two-way swinging door for a one stall toilet.

Official Religion ranking of Spanish, Ontario : Thumbs up!

On a related note, the O.P.P. : a big ass Religion thumbs down!! You don't know me O.P.P! Guess you do know Alan now however.

Out front of Jacks, Thunder Bay 8pm

I met Elvis tonight. At least he assured me 4 times that he looked like Elvis (Presley I assume). He is 'not gay.' He is definitely 'not a fag or nothin.' In fact he happens to be a 'real fuckin man!' A little self-assured punch to his chest and a nod made me pretty aware of that. He is 'very, very lonely' though. (Fags are gay anyway.) Hhmm. Thunder Bay. Elvis opened his blue trousers after he told me all this and took a big ol' pee right there outside of the front door of the bar. He had to pee! What?! Real men CAN pee on the streets. I think the weird thing was the reaction. No reaction. No reaction? Certainly not from me. I know about men and their masculane need to have a nice piss. The door girl didn't seem to mind too. (You're O.K. in my books Angie). She said nothing and simply smiled at me as I walked back inside as though the Main drag in T.B. accomodates urine and random Elvis'.

The show was weird too.

I picked up Cuff The Dukes new album. GET IT!!

 The show tonight was better. Much, much better. I'd even say we we're pretty damned good.

 I take back the comment about beef. Cows are not some sorta magical food or purse giving beast. They're horned, 4 legged poison. There may be one or a few of us that could use some ruffage right about now. There's even been some talk of an ancient mystical remedy (it grows some where in the Middle East, I think. Cradle of humanity and stuff.). Rumour has it if you use the right dose it can initiate the passing of certain substances that may be 'bunged up' in your digestive system. I've heard from a few that you can now pick it up in pill form at your local Pharmasave due to all those crazy technological advancements and the recent Global Village weirdness. Crazy Arabs!

 Also, I retract the staement I've used several times a week for the past while, "There's nothing good about poo." That will now be revisited as,"Poo. Get it the fuck out!" 

 FYI, Ive been obsessing a bit over one song. Pills by The Perishers. I've had the album for about a year now (thanks moms), and always thought is was pretty good, but Pills will drive anyone driving through the Rockies after 11pm to tears. Especially if it's smoke time.

...I'm putting The Perishers album up so people can maybe have a listen, but I'm not really listening to the whole thing.

God, guilt complexes are ridiculous.