Sunday, October 20, 2013

                              The Budget's last mini-tour

           Throat dry and on fire. It feels like barbed wire floss has stitched it's way through my sinuses.  My skull feels like a bass drum and I can't find the honey badger that ripped up my asshole. This is how the first day of The Budget's last trip begins. It's been a bit of a logistical nightmare before we even leave the mountains. Five days before we set off we find out our Atlanta show at Wonder Root is a no-go. Shit, cant find anything to replace our Saturday. While hunting for a show within driving distance from our Friday gig I'm informed Church Jerks are not coming on tour with us. FUCK! Tim, Jerk's singer, travels with us still.  He is the first to arrive at Lufty House as I drain beer-piss onto gravel and weeds. We shoot the shit in Sheddy Mercury as I finish packing and smoke a bowl. Spencer wakes up and Shawn and Ryan show up respectivly. We pack the van and make the customary last minute calls to get friends to come with. No recruits, so we head out on I-40 west towards Nashville, TN. Just five deep.
            I feel like shit, but I'm not alone. The tight knit Asheville punk scene is going through a collective cold, one of many to come this winter. Remember to share! Despite being sick and the setbacks everyone is in good spirits and ready to have a shit ton of fun. We stop and get french fries in a dry county then fill up the van. The van, Death Larson, belongs to Spencer of Gripe and Food.Clothes.Shelter (Athens, GA). We can't thank him enough for his company and driving, as Death is one big fuckin beast. Death Larson is an early 80's Ford Econoline with an extended ass. Suicide doors in the back and a heavy sliding door that stays shut. Inside the flat black diesel monster there are two captain chairs in the cockpit and on behind shotgun. With a bench from our old tour van, Rambulance, tucked against the wall and plenty of floor space it's a cush ride. Stopping again at a truckstop we pick up icecream and chips. We play mad-libs till the next truckstop. I buy a 40 and play "Alien Invaders!" pinball, circa early 80's.
           When we get to Nashville we pick up booze and hang at the house till the show starts. Super nice guy Alex let's us take over the livingroom for the first show there. The Budget gets sandwiched between Roman Polanski's Baby and Good Sex. The crowd is modest but packed into the room. I have left my auxillary pedal to my doublekick and cut some songs and improvise with others. We sell one 7" split as Timmy administers mysterious tinctures to the locals. Asheville maintains it's hippie stereotype. Whiskey! Morality Crisis jumps on the show last minute and receives a small but awesome reception. People are flying above the crowd and smashing the ceiling fan as the three peice kills it. Weed!

          Alex and I ride bikes through the night like maniacs on a beer run. When in the beer cave a 12er busts in my hand. The clerk screams at us, "What the hell you boys doin?! Do I need to grab my bats?" I tell him "No", still wondering if he has multiple baseball bats in mind or something more Drakula like. He tries to rip me off for five bucks as I check out. What a fuckin dick. We ride the whips back to the house.
          Weed! Asheville crew, Alex and Morality Crisis stay up on the porch playing mad-libs, drinking and trading road stories of debauchery. In the morning half of us wake up outside in Tennessee's muggy climate and start pounding beers. We say goodbye to our new midwest buddies and Alex takes us to Five Points Pizza.


I'm whiskey drunk by this point and think I'm hilarious. We stop by the record store then to a grocery store so Tim can shit. After playing with anti-theft shopping carts we drop off Alex, smoke a spliff and head to Chattanooga. We listen to mix-tapes outta our boombox and tell dick and fart jokes. I make Ryan a wonderful veggie sandwich that he refuses to eat cuase I spread the hummus with my grimy fingers. Tenderfoot. We get to the venue, Sluggo's. It's a vegetarian restuarant with a bar underneath it. They give us free burrittos and chips. I love them!


             More familiar faces as we played here a little over a year ago with some assholes. We pre-game and relax in Death Larson before the show. While drinking warm whiskey gingers with red apple cider spritzer we are informed we can jump on the show tomorrow night at Sluggo's. Awesome! Saturday slot filled and we dont have to drive!

         It's Anna Banana's birthday and everybody's having a good time. Ol' Scratch plays a drunkin, energetic set, crashing into their gear and playing a Ramones cover.

                                                                           Ol' Scratch!

Beer! The Budget sets up and gets ready to play. We are pretty drunk and read a mad-libs to the crowd. A bit through the set we decide to play our surf song "Waterboarding". TRIPLE TRAIN WRECK! This is a song we struggle with mostly because we aren't a surf band, but we love to play it. I try to over compensate for not having double bass by increasing the tempo, without telling anybody in the band. Wish there was footage of that.

 The crowd. Drummer Cam.
The crowd again. Drummer Cam.

             E.J. goes on after to play an aggressive and soulful acoustic set. Though a solo act, he's got the power of a full band and is a perfect ender for Anna's birthday. We pile into the van, pick up beer and head to E.J., Morgan, and Rachel's pad.  Josh meets up with us there to drink way too much. DOGS!

RUDY of Chattanooga
Rudy is a fuckin tank of a bulldog! Dewey is a sweet little fluffy dude that likes to take himself for walks. Both are cute as shit.  We play dice and drink. E.J. and I realize this is like our fourth time meeting over the years. Weed and Shotgunning beers!

SATURDAY- Dear Diarreah, I fell asleep dead drunk, blocking a fire exit, and woke up with a pillow. Ryan! We head to the Pickle Barrel for baskets of fried potatoes and bloody mary's. The other patrons on the roof pretend not to hear our conversation about giant bags of foreskins and the bible. After breakfast we head to Walgreens where Spencer calls an old man trying to cut in line a "Motherfucker". HAHA!

Next stop, our buddy Josh Mayfield's record shop, "All Killer, No Filler". YIKES! This place is aptly named, it's stocked with so much awesome shit! We spend a couple hours there and all of us walk out stoked with our new wax. I get a Poison Idea - Feel the Darkness LP, a staple 12" for any depressed drunk punk. Also nabbed a live recording of The Eat playing in 1981 at the Polish American Hall in Hollywood, FL.

           We throw rocks at signs till we are bored with that shit. Josh and Timmy split and The Budget goes downtown with Spencer. There is a zombie walk today and plenty of old people to accent the feeling of festering horror. Also there is a billion fucking cops, at every god damn corner. Just standing there looking clueless and menacing at the same time. PIG STY!

 We get salads and beer at sticky fingers cause the pizza joint is packed with fucking assholes. I shotgun a warm PBR in the potty then we talk about future plans and projects.

We go to Krystals so Shawn can get some slammers and I play Ms. Pacman at the laundrymat next door. Back at Sluggo's for round two! SPEED! WHISKEY! BEER! We are to play first in a diverse night of music. Tonights show is a benefit that Danny, doorman at Sluggo's and bassist of Sandal Stomp, is throwing. Money going to educate and bring arts to hospitalized children of Peru. Knowledge is power!  We play a short set in which we break a string in the middle. Shawn has gotten really quick at replacing strings. We fill the short void of time with a quick Mad-libs with the crowd. We finish the set and pack it up again. Day Jah View. Sluggos has two killer pinball machines, Big Guns and Elvira.

Big Guns is an awesome Sci-Fi table with a second set of flippers at the top, making this more like two different playing fields. The gameplay is exciting and with the help of the speed I'm destroying it! A contender walks up shaking a handful of quarters, ready to play. I inform him that he's gonna need all those them some allowance to reach half of my score. After several extra balls and a severe sunburn from flashing lights my competition leaves me in the pulsating and buzzing corner. PING PING PING motherfucker!
          Up next is a hiphop act called Stoop Kidz. It's interesting, but I'm not easily excited over rap so I move outside to smoke and chew the inside of my lip.  There I strike up a great conversation about international punk with Erikka of 40oz. Folklore. She also runs the webpage Freedom Punker which releases compilations of DIY punk bands, available for free downloading. Volume 14 out soon!

 Next up are locals, The One Timers with a set full of energy and smiles. Always a crowd pleaser. MINGLE! Unspoken Triumph take stage and give it their all. I can tell they have a lot to say through their instruments and chugging riffs. Unfortunatly they are missing members tonight and soundwise it doesn't quite fill out. Still metal, fun and rad as fuck. Slapped Budget stickers over the stickers of bands I hate. YOU'VE BEEN STAMPED FUCKERS! EAT SHIT! Finally Sandal Stomp takes the stage with suprising brutality. You need to hear this fuckin band! They have a killer live set and their ranks are filled with awesome folx. I got hit in the head with a beer while taking pics. PUNX!

 After the show I smoke a bowl with the guitarist of Unspoken Triumph. We load up and head back to the same place we stayed the night before. Just cant figure out how to add pics anymore, ill do it later. fuck!  We pile out of the van. SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCKITY FUCK UP!!!

I hop the back fence and unlock the front door. We get twisted, talk shit and watch Cliffhanger or something. I shoot the shit with Rachel and E.J. till the sun cums up. I crash outside next to an above ground cesspool.

My bed Saturday night
Oct. 6th. Sunday morning, holy shit! I wake up inside, sleep walking is one of those things that can easily get you arrested. We shit and say our adios to canines and humans. Homeward bound with harsh tunes blaring I roll a fat joint on my floor tom.

 Shawn and I have a morning safety meeting. Outside of Chattanooga is a porn shop that The Budget visits every roadtrip. NO FUN DAY SUNDAY! The superstore of smut is closed due to laws passed by the cockblocking christians. We watch fellow perverts walk away from the locked doors with blue-law balls. We check the dumpster but there ain't dick. Not one!


 We walk next door to the Awful Waffle and DJ the jukebox. Opening tune, "Too Legit" by MC Hammer. When we are done eating the waitress asks us who we are opening up for. A collective "HUH?", "Well Y'all are the warm up band right?" Just then the grill cook turns around to chime in, "Yup, warm up band". We finally made it! We are recognizable as the opening act. Rub that greasy shit in your face, teachers who never believed in me!
             Tim put Weezer on the squawk box and I get the fuck outta Dodge. FUCK that shit band.  We head out full of eggs and coffee. Death Larson totes our asses along as we relax, drink, and read. Reading books!
         The only fatality we see all trip is a motorcyclist on the assfault with half of his face missing. Tough luck dude. If your going to die, die with your boots on. He did. R.I.P..
          Shortly after we get word that there is nobody to work sound at our homecoming show. Also nobody to watch the shop and its not been promoted.  With ravaged voices we all say "Fuck it".  No show tonight. We all get back to Lufty House and part ways to jack off and sleep, or whatever we do when we arent crammed in a van together. Somebody has been in my dear home, Sheddy Mercury while I was gone. THANX! My cat and dog are excited to see my drunk ass.


The Budget's last show is October 25th with Snake Prophesy, Prick  Bigot, Birth and special secret guests. 9.30 at the Goblin Hole (ask a punk). FREE. ALL AGES. B.Y.O.B. (be your own boss).