Shea Steele is the fucking shit.

December 29th, 2007


We would like to thank Dr. Shea Steele (above, second from the left…and yes…i know i look fucking retarded in this picture) for being a kick ass host and really pulling through for us, and putting the rest of the cities we’ve visited to shame. While New Orleans was like swimming through a sea of drooling lunatics, flailing their arms through the thick haze of drunkenness like flagellum through plasma, and Atlanta was a trip to Grandpa Jared’s house where it was full of babies and fried chicken, Nashville managed to get us drunk and leave us in a dumpster with two less kidneys (in a good way.) It seems like everybody in Nashville is either in a band, or way to cool to even bother with being in a band, and the bars are comfortably divey and not segregated (socially) too much. I got to dance with a overweight 65 year old woman at a honky tonk bar and down can after two-dollar can of PBR while listening to stories of prison, ending up at a 24-hour greasy spoon which had us stumbling into LOCAL HONEY, Shea’s vintage clothing store, around 6 in the morning to crash. She even closed the store the next day to eat lunch with us and allowed us to scare away potential customers. AND she let me shower, which is a huge deal, because i hadn’t showered in a while. All in all, thank you Shea for everything, and you totally affected my view of Nashville in the best way, as it has climbed the charts of potential places that would not induce suicidal tendencies in me if i lived there. So, like, way to go.

We’d also like to thank Matt from The Pink Spiders, for kicking our asses at pool (i mean, the guy busted out a pool cue he had brought from home that looked like a fucking unicorn horn…how were we supposed to compete with that?) and Willie (who has cavorted with the likes of Yoko Ono and Wolf Eyes, and his own defunct band, The Parlour Boys) for telling us stories about being on the road with The Bravery, giving us more of a reason to hate them, and kicking ass at my favorite game of all time: Brackets. (I mean, he did convince everyone at the table that the band RUSH could win over euthanasia.)

Thanks Nashville, I’ll call you, baby.

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