If it was easy, everybody would do it.
Well, today marks day like, seven of exhaustion/inebriation/delirium.
(Which if you didn’t click the final link, offers an entirely different story.)
Anyway, before we made our way to the venue, we snuck to a rooftop vantage point to look at the city that used to be called San Francisco;
It’s far from good, but good from far.
From that point forward, it was a spinning blur of fuzzy memories, ringing ears, and bad decisions.
If Whores are coming to a venue near you, I suggest you go. They are nothing short of controlled demolition;
And speaking of bad decisions, as I mentioned on Friday, in just a few short hours, I’ll be on a rocket ride to Monterey along side ‘The Mouth-est From The Southwest‘, (it’s been said that I have a penchant for coming up with professional wrestler names), Ms. Amanda Batty;
Photo by Aaron Lovato.
It’s sure to be a shit show of epic proportions.
So at this stage, I don’t have much in the way of reportage.
The only difference is that Amanda probably smells better than Sally, but even that’s not a guarantee.
Right quick, I would like to include a sampling of ‘Art That Doesn’t Suck’, this time coming from a sculptor named Jonty Hurwitz;
Looking at his work, let alone even wrapping my mind around how such a thing is executed certainly doesn’t make my brain hurt any less.
Finally, I would like to offer a reminder, as well as an amendment of the deck release on the 29th of this month. Unfortunately, because I’m a dumb oaf, I made a move on organizing the event without getting official confirmation from The Cabinet of Curb®, and kinda ham-fistedly took over my pal Opie’s Rumble In Rockridge event title.
That was a clumsy move on my part, and I feel terrible about it. We talked it over, and everything’s hopefully been smoothed out. In the meantime, I changed the title of my thing to just have it be a stand alone event;
The date’s the same, the tacos are the same, and the beer supply is the same. The only difference is I have more egg on my face than usual.
So mark your calendars, and swing through to snag a deck, eat a taco, and drill your body into the ground at a million miles an hour.