Di-wrecked Hit Part Something Or Another/

Drink 1.
PBR tall boy and a shot of Evan Williams, Damonicus and I are watching South Park and eagerly awaiting the presidential guest spot on the Daily Show.  I think if the president guest starred randomly on one show a month, advertising revenue would go way way up.  Imagine with me that this policy I just made up and Obama's presidency coincided with "Friends."  Okay first, imagine the theme song playing, stupid little hand claps and all.  All of a sudden, the fucking president pops onto a couch holding an umbrella, all the while wearing a lime green turtleneck and bowler hat.  We both know you'd love the shit out of that.  If you think I'm wrong, imagine the same thing but with Lincoln instead.  Now you're wrong and can't shake the fact that you just might be a racist.
If you see my best pal/roommate/bass player/singer/only person who responds to my drunken texts between now and October 30th, you had damn well better refer to him as Gene Simmons. 


Drink 2.
Second verse same as the first.   We're watching a documentary on Shane MacGowan after the daily show.  My cousin from Ireland (who's not really my cousin, but a good friend who, when he's in the U.S. stays with my family and visa versa for us in Ireland [see, cousin is a lot shorter than saying all that])  has a brother, who used to be Shane MacGowan's personal driver.  I'm not sure(oh shit Obama just walked out!) where that was going, but I'm sitting at home, getting really stupid drunk, and writing about watching a movie about a man, who's famous for getting really stupid drunk, and that's at least a little bit amusing on some level right?  Meh, shot of whiskey time.

A message from Damon. 
As I float towards buzzed land, I realize I love President Obama, but I hate that he uses the word "folks" as often as he does.  Fuck he just did it again.  I rejoice in the fact that we have another bottle of bourbon.  Big ups to Brooklyn, fuck what you heard.


Drink 3.
To be fair, drinks one and two included shots of whiskey and there was another in between drink 2 and drink 3.  Technically I suppose this is drink 7, but that kind of brings about a whole Fahrenheit to Celsius argument about documenting alcoholic beverages, and I just don't have it in me to pander to 2 separate systems of measurement.  Plus, to be totally honest with you guys, I'm now on drink 8 if you include that shot i took before I started this sentence.  Alright, I'm going to think up a solution here.  Refer to all my drinks not by numbers but by actors in my favorite movies? I think so Drink number John Candy in Cool Runnings!
I love you Shane Mac Gowan, but I cannot understand a goddamned word you say.  It's not just the Irish accent either, I know how that accent works.  Take any word with a T+H combination, then insert a hard T sound.  Thank becomes tank, third becomes turd, and so on.  Seriously Shane,  you're an amazing musician but you look like a Celtic Meth head and I don't understand anything that you don't put in singing form whatsoever.  I'm not making this up at all, go listen to any pogues song, then image search their lead singer.  Beautiful not from this earth, shouldn't be allowed to exist in a mere mortal fucking singing voice and yet...

that's rabid mulleted squirrel man is what it's coming out of.

A message I forced out of Damon while Michelle fitted him for his Kiss costume:
The only thing better than drinking whiskey or beer, is drinking whiskey and beer with your wife and your best pal and I'm doing both!

I feel that I should mention about now, that my best pal Gene Simmons, has to wake up at 6:30 tomorrow and, despite it being my day off, I have to wake up at 8:30 to get tattooed.  Yeah, we do this shit for the fans.  I'd like to see Justin Bieber forgo sleep to entertain his friends by pounding shots and making observations about life and the things within his direct line of sight.  Seriously though that would be funny, I can't imagine he handles his booze well.

Note from Damon:
Shane McGowan's first band was called the Nipplerectors, but their band made them change their name to The Nips

I'm gonna make Mac n' Cheese and then indulge in Drink number Steve Buscemi in Airheads.

...long pause for food preparation break...

After long contemplation, I've come to this conclusion:  Talent it would seem, is something that if you weren't born with, you can't cultivate to anything especially meaningful, and or good via practice, hard work, dedication, etc. (e.g. William Hung)  In that same  vein of thought, it would seem that if you're born with a talent , it's gonna shine through no matter what combination of gin and Sinead O'Connor you shovel on top of it.
Seriously though, to clarify, in most cases, in order to be good at something you have to practice a whole fuck-ton, but if you weren't born with that certain intangible spark that makes talented folks tick, well sorry about your luck Stefani Germanotta, you're only hope is the 3 Ms: Makeup, Muppets and Meat.

Ugh, my dear roommates are going to bed, which means I have no one to bounce my brilliant ideas off of any more, and should probably also go to sleep.

Send nudes!
For real
c'mon

-Pretzel

Where We're Going We Don't Need Pop Tarts

Tomorrow night Damon and I are getting extremely intoxicated and writing you guys a double feature, so tune in Wednesday Night/maybe Thursday morning depending on how the night goes.  

I know this is a short and half assed post, so here's something I hope makes up for it

Yeah, you're welcome.

Oh, also Saturday night The Involuntarys will be transforming into KISS at the the Melody Inn.  Be there, I don't wanna hear all the "Sorry bro, my girlfriend wants me to go to some party that night" or "I don't live in Indianapolis" or "I'll still be recovering from that awesome monkey with a gun picture you so generously Google image searched for us" talk.  Seriously, I'm wearing spandex and singing, how can that not be your top priority?

Don't swim for an hour after eating.  Seriously, Don't.

-Pretzel

The Glamours Of Playing Punk

Evening ladies and gents!  Damon and I just got home from playing a show in Fort Wayne.  I know you're all dying to know how it went and hear my hilarious spin on things, so I'll cut the foreplay skip the cuddling and never call you again.  

Here's how the day was planned to go: I cut out of work early, we drive up to Ft. Wayne, melt faces with rock and roll, get paid bajillions of dollars and retire in the tropics.  The way things actually went down were far more interesting.  About one hour outside of Indianapolis the radio starts to cut out and it becomes apparent that either our battery or alternator is slacking off.  We pull off to an auto parts store, after some poking around under the hood and some phone calls it was determined that the alternator was to blame.  At this point we're not late but if we try to replace the alternator we will be, so we decide to power through and fix the car once we're back in Indy.  We drive on, and a few miles from the venue as we pull off the interstate the power cuts out again.  At this point we decide that, fuck it, we'll just  have our friend Pete Dio tow the trailer to the venue, we'll  stay the night and deal with the van early in the morning and I'll make it to work maybe half and hour late or so.  The only problem with this plan is, Pete doesn't have a trailer hitch.  Now things have gotten a bit stressful, we were supposed to be on stage about ten minutes ago and we have no idea how to get our gear to the bar.

Enter Mike.

Mike is the gentleman who pulls over to help us, he's got a trailer hitch and he'd be more than happy to tow our gear wherever we'd like provided we give him gas money.  Sure he knows where the bar is! Hell, he was just there the other night.  Let me paint a picture for you here guys, Mike is driving an extremely run down canary yellow pick up truck.  There's a woman in the middle seat, and a black kid (mike and the woman are both white) in the passenger seat who I never heard speak a word.  The bed of Mike's truck is ridded with trash; two lamp shades a broom handle, a broken chair, a stepladder and so on.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, mike's on meth.  Yeah, hopped up, bad teeth and all.  At this point in the game we're all pretty stoked that we're gonna get to play so we agree, we'll pay mike twenty bucks, he'll take our trailer to the venue, and Mister Dio will pick up the rest of the band.  Now, you all know me.  In addition to being a dashingly good looking  and charming man about the town,  I'm famous for my grand ideas, and as I thought about our plan, one occurred to me.   "Pretzel," I thought to myself "habitual meth users are known for stealing to support their habit.  Someone should probably go with Mike to make sure that our gear doesn't end up in a pawn shop."  I speak up, saying that someone should probably go with Mike to unload into the bar.  Mike agrees, soon I'm in the bed of the truck and we're on our way.  A block away Mike leans out the window and yells "Hey man, I'm gonna go the back way."  Now an idea starts to form in my head,  sure the contents of the trailer are valuable, but on the black market I'm pretty sure the contents of me are too.  As we drive I get more and more worried.  We're driving and there's not many retail spots around, just a lot of abandoned factories, and every time we get about two blocks away from flashing police lights Mike slows to roughly ten miles an hour and turns off onto a different street.  I start to look around the bed of the truck for anything I can use as a weapon because now I'm convinced that my drums are gonna end up in some thirteen year old kid's basement and my kidneys are gonna end up in his dad.  Finally we arrive, I pay Mike, who offers to tow the trailer again tomorrow because, "y'all pay well" and eventually the rest of the band arrives.

The show ended up being great. Lots of beer was spit, lots of beer was drank, we ran into a bunch of people we knew, and at the height of our drunkenness we all slurred a rendition of Olympia WA. with our new friends, it was very Irish drinking song-ish.

Cut to the next morning, we've overslept by a lot.  At the most, I'm gonna make it back for about half the workday, but there's still hope that I can slip in unnoticed.  Thundernuts (awesome, I know) the Drummer from Riverbottom happens to be a mechanic, and helped us  put in a new alternator.  We thank him and get on our way.  roughly a half hour into the drive my boss calls, he's quite pissed at the amount of work I've missed and informs me that I shouldn't come in for a couple of days.  Ordinarily, not a big deal, but I'm pretty broke at the moment and can't really afford to miss three days of pay.  So, a bummer to be sure, but hey, I knew the risks and I'll get by.  The upside to being told not to come in was that now I had time to go eat delicious cheesy hash browns at IHOP.

Oh yeah, and we found the awesomeness below this at a gas station on the way back. 

Well, that's all I've got for today, be all that you can be, stay black and proud, fight the man, and stay in school, I'm gonna go get a drink.

Fondest Regards,

-Pretzel

The Glorious life of the B.M.V

So after a long night of drinking and seeing Erica at  the melody inn for her 21st birthday I had to awake and go to the B.M.V. to get plates for the bands trailer. Why, well because tonight we go  Ft. Wayne and play with The Riverbottom Nightmare Band. 

I walk in with coffee in hand and the first thing i see is this gorgeous young lady doing 360's in her electric wheel chair yelling "This is ridiculous!" ha! i was already amused and had been here all of 2 seconds.

The computers were down and people had been there for a couple hours, I was amazed at how fast adults turn into children when they have to wait for something. Overly speaking loud "i could go to kokomo branch and be done before you guys get me dont here!" and "why is this taking so long, i got things i gotta do, thats what im going to do. Im going to go do things and come back!"

But my favorite line of all was a guy whos rationalization was... " We have to wait this long cause of the computers being down! they didnt have computers when they built the pyramids. Hell they didnt even have calculators!" But in my favor, the computers being down manage to confuse who was next and i got moved up ahead of everyone, even the ones that came in 2 hours ago. SUCCESS.

And throughout the bitterness and the screaming baby and sarcasim. i had a good time and got what i need to roll our new trailor. See you mother fuckers in FT. Wayne!

cheers- damon

god help you if you get past our spam filter

This morning I decided to reply to some scams

SHITS IS RIDICULOUS

And you know it is. So why should'nt we make a blog about really nothing at all, orrrrr pointless, maybe some what entertaining situations as viewed threw the eyes of The Involuntarys rhythm section.

After all, theres always stupid storys about being in a nobody punk rock band, working at a tattoo shop or being drunk a good bit of the time.

However, im not sure how far this will go do to the laziness of all involved!