Monday, April 25, 2005

A Little Generosity
Generally, bars and clubs in L.A. don't pay struggling bands much, if at all. In fact, The Whiskey, Los Angeles's most famous, most douchtastic club, makes bands pay them. I guess this is their way of weeding out the poor bands, so only the richest nu-metal cheesedicks get the spotlight.

I'm not complaining. I actually take some pride in the struggle. Of course, if I didn't have a day job, I'd be sleeping with every A&R rep I could roofie.

Saturday night we were paid in free food and an unlimited bar tab (they said $50, but after all the beers and rounds of shots, I think we surpassed). This was the best treatment we've had from an establishment, I think. Maybe even better than when the born-again security guard at Skate El Paso threw us $20 for gas, just because. Or rather, just because of Jesus.

Don't get me wrong. I'd prefer being able to cover our recording and gear costs, to living in a van down by the river. A little personal generosity goes a long way, is all I'm saying.

Also, I'd be remiss if I didn't report on the the fakest, roundest boobs ever at the show. The girl also had a sideways trucker hat and tried to have a conversation with us while we were playing. Long Beach's resemblance to the frat zone at SDSU is uncanny. (Did I get that right? The Frat Zone? Chachi, help me out).

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