Lost & Found

It's a Wednesday night, and practically everyone from our whole crew is inexplicably involved in this crazy music-fashion-art show that goes on in the Deuce Cities every year called Voltage. Isaac (aka Iceberg) is making the audio-visuals work right, so he gets a "Committee" badge. TPC is headlining the bill so Jeff gets a "Band" badge.

 

50's, too, is V.I.P. on this night. He looks frightened.

 

And yes, believe it or not, McTubbins is a fashion designer on this night. He, ETC and Crystal (aka North Metro) are dressing hot models up in crazy post-apocalyptic garb.

 

The show is at the 1st Avenue Mainroom and is crazy sold-out and crazy packed. This is a shot I snuck of Jeff getting his guitar ready for fashion rocking from behind the stage screen. Jeff wishes the volume knob on his amp would go to 11.

 

Iceberg's handiwork before the band goes on.

 

Informational videos about TPC and their designer.

 

The curtain drops and TPC begins rocking the assembled fashionites. Jordan is proudly (perhaps misguidededly?) sporting a kick-ass 1970's Chicago Cop 'stache and wearing a t-shirt that says "I Heart the Goods."

 

Me, sporting a McTubbins original neck scarf. One of the Hyperlush models gets totes apocalyptic.

 

Continued craziness.

 

This chick on the left totally has a huge condom on her back.

 

Fucking triumph.

 

Sweaty and in love with dragons, spreadsheets, the goods and danger.

 

Brews and crews. The night ends late with everyone feeling equal parts a) sweet and b) weird.

 

Thank god it's Twins time. Somehow I've managed to fall madly in love with the Minnesota Twins. Something happened between the end of last season and the beginning of this season. I mean, I started reading the sports section.

 

Funny thing happens during the game, we run into Jordan who is towering directly above us.

 

After the game we meet up with Tubbs at Big V's to see a tornavalance show. Big Money.

 

At the show we run into Pete Biasi, a reunion you might say. It was just a few weeks ago that we went on a weekend vision quest where we were introduced to beer sabers and the awesomeness that is "Bias-dog."

 

Tornavalanche kills.

 

Joelgurt.

 

Time to enjoy the spring, the first nice nice hot hot day of the year. The crew heads over to gabby's to throw back a few strawberry daiquiris and ring in the season.

 

50's points at Caylie, he is questionably in awe of her abilities to drink two beers at once. Way to go Caylie, you're officially now a member of the club.

 

Dickery daiquiri do.

 

Endearing assholes, endearing smiles.

 

In remembrance of last years march blog we climb Nicole's neighbors tree... again.

 

Fast forward to the next night. TPC is getting back to its roots in the western suburbs and agreed to be the bar band for the night at Decoy's in Hopkins. This means playing two sets, busting out the cover jams, invoking crowd participation, etc. Here, they jam out with some sweet neon Budweiser and Miller lights on behind them.

 

My parents make the trip to Decoy's to see the show cause going to see shows in the city is like, super scary and stuff. The suburbs are safe. My mom fits in because she has a hyperlush scarf on. She repeatedly says "I'm wearing a McTubbins, who are you wearing?" FYI photocredzos to Money Diamonds.

 

On the roof after the show, we sneak a peek at old Hopkins 6 movie theatre. Jeff, Iceberg, 50's and Beak all worked here as squeaky-voiced 15 year olds.

 

It's Friday night, I haven't been feeling so great. Back problems and what not. I'm convinced I will be in bed by 6:30pm. Lesson learned, things change. A greenmill party turns into and after party and the after party turns into a stoop party and the stoop party turns into a game of croquet, but of course.

 

Matt charts the course. Level of difficulty: low to medium. Just hard enough for us drunk souls.

 

This quickly turns into a bad idea. Jeff realizing that his legs are really long and that he has the wingspan of a bald eagle starts thrashing around breaking croquet mallets etc. etc.

 

 

50's has a sweet sweatshirt. On the back are these pissed off wolves and on the front it says: B.W.S. we can't figure out what it stands for. Maybe "Bad Wolf School, or Bitchin' Wolves Suck. Suggestions are always welcome.

 

There's one thing that happens when Beak and Waff have beers together. They can't help but touch and nuzzle on each other. Any opportunity to feel each other is always welcome so Jeff invites Beak to a wrestling match.

 

Notice wear Jeff's hand is.

 

Caylie declares Jeff the loser.

 

Cam declares Beak the winner.

 

Since I've done the last blog there has been a rash of thievery that has come our way. A few weeks ago Caylie had her bike stolen from outside her house. Totes not cool. Somehow last friday on her way to work she sees it locked to this stop sign. The cops can't help her so she takes matters into her own hands. First a hand written note...

 

Next she buys a lock and locks her lock (I just used the word lock 3 times in one breath) to the pole therefore preventing the thief from being able to retake the bike. A few days later she comes back with some super power towel, breaks the thieves lock and gets her bike back. There's only room for Victory and Triumph here!

 

Fast forward to Friday night, and when I say friday night I mean friday as in last weekend. We're finally catching up. TPC is playing a show along with Will Whitmore, the Stnnng, and some other sweet bands at the Turf club in Saint Paul in honor of Pete Biasi graduating from college.

 

Will's stamina for downing shot after shot of whiskey is mucho impressivo.

 

The good thing about having shows in Saint Paul is that we can convince people really easily to come over to our house for the afterbar. Tonight the Allen fam is introducing MPLS and SP to chi-town style beer sabers. Yes.

Here, 50's and Joel are lacking tape. 50's gets and extra point for shotgunning that middle brew.

 

Will wants to know if we have any hip hop jamz. We supply the goodz.

 

This is where the second case of thievery comes into play. Somehow this girl, who I will only refer to as "yellow dress" comes to my party, uninvited, and steals my red raybans. Totes not cool. These glasses are like my favorite thing ever and I am really sad about this. And don't think I'm just pointing my finger at yellow dress because I didn't know her and she was drunk, I actually have multiple levels of proof that she was the one that nabbed my shades.

 

Photo from blog archives demonstrating how cool my glasses are. Yellow Dress is a total bitch for taking them.

 

Much window sitting happens. People are into the beer sabers!

 

 

Tubbs and I do our best effort at a beer saber/air guitar version of Metalica's "One." John Tapp would be proud.

 

Party Goers.

 

Yes!

Oh and to finish up the story about the sunglasses. My hero, Jeff uses the power of the internet to send out an A.P.B. on the missing glasses. Turns out the girl ended up going to the Biasi household where she leaves the glasses and I am able to pick them up in the morning.

Not only that, I was totally avenged by Caylie. Turns out yellow dress is her highschool nemesis. She has no qualms writing her a sweet myspace message as transcribed below.

Caylie:
Hello olivia this is caylie. You stole my good friend Alison's sunglasses from her house in st. paul. This is not cool at all and you are a huge douchebag cunt bitch. You should be ashamed of yourself on multiple levels.
sincerely, caylie

Yellow Dress:
i do not have said sunglasses. maybe you missed it? but my friends found them at their house the morning after. awesome message caylie, i will be sure to return your kindness on the matter futurewise.

Caylie:
You stole them from her house and brought them to dudes house. They said that you took them. They cost $150 and they are extremely important to my friend. I know I was being childish about it but stealing things from people is unnexceptable. If it's not yours don't take it. I will not fear you in the future. If anything you will go down again.
sincerely, caylie

This is so awesome and endearing on so many levels.