Wild weekend for the JDog and myself - we played in a cover band at a charity event in the Grand Ballroom of the Fairmont Copley Hotel for the Bridge Over Troubled Water Foundation, which I'm pretty sure raises money for Art Garfunkel's anti-hair frizzing products. Some highlights:
All the other guys in the band besides Joe and me do pretty well in the old "finances" department, so they plunked down the $1500 a plate for the dinner and got all tuxed out. We, the two penniless scumbags, were not even allowed in the door. As a rule, the rich fart in our general direction. Luckily, the band got a hotel room to change out of their tuxes and gave Joe the key to it. Big mistake.
See, Joe is a Zen master in taking advantage of free shit. He was born without a shame gene (and, come to think of it - without a "hy"gene). We get up to the hotel room and the first thing he says is "I'm going to take a bath." Of course you are. Why wouldn't you? While he stripped down and drew himself a soothing bath, I got on the horn and ordered some delicious room service.
When Joe came out of the bath (in a very fetching white towel robe and plastic shower cap), he looked so relaxed and pampered. It got me thinking. I looked at him and said, "Do you think I have time to soak in a bath?" to which he responded "Brendo, I don't think you have time to NOT soak in a bath." Good solid logic. It was bath time.
As my creaky old bones soaked in the piping hot water, I heard a knock on the door, followed by some mumbled arguing. Then, Joe knocks on the bathroom door and says, "Brendo... do you have any money?" Of course I didn't. I was soaking in a bath, for God's sake.
Apparently, the room was marked as "cash only," so we couldn't charge anything to the room. So the hotel guy, who was apparently VERY snippy, taunted Joe by showing him the delicious peking duck pizza and brownie a la mode and then took it away! Outrageous!
Joe and I wreaked our horrible revenge on the Fairmont family by emptying out the minibar (final score: Brendo - 4 beers, one can of Pringles, one cannister of nuts. Joe - 3 Diet Cokes, a Red Bull, a Snickers and a giant jar of gummy bears) and doing a very low-rent version of "trashing the place." Basically, we threw a few bottles on the floor and wiped food on the robes. It was strangely satisfying while simultaneously being very fucking lame.
This is getting long - I'll continue tomorrow with a report and photos from the actual show. Stay tuned, donkeys...
All the other guys in the band besides Joe and me do pretty well in the old "finances" department, so they plunked down the $1500 a plate for the dinner and got all tuxed out. We, the two penniless scumbags, were not even allowed in the door. As a rule, the rich fart in our general direction. Luckily, the band got a hotel room to change out of their tuxes and gave Joe the key to it. Big mistake.
See, Joe is a Zen master in taking advantage of free shit. He was born without a shame gene (and, come to think of it - without a "hy"gene). We get up to the hotel room and the first thing he says is "I'm going to take a bath." Of course you are. Why wouldn't you? While he stripped down and drew himself a soothing bath, I got on the horn and ordered some delicious room service.
When Joe came out of the bath (in a very fetching white towel robe and plastic shower cap), he looked so relaxed and pampered. It got me thinking. I looked at him and said, "Do you think I have time to soak in a bath?" to which he responded "Brendo, I don't think you have time to NOT soak in a bath." Good solid logic. It was bath time.
As my creaky old bones soaked in the piping hot water, I heard a knock on the door, followed by some mumbled arguing. Then, Joe knocks on the bathroom door and says, "Brendo... do you have any money?" Of course I didn't. I was soaking in a bath, for God's sake.
Apparently, the room was marked as "cash only," so we couldn't charge anything to the room. So the hotel guy, who was apparently VERY snippy, taunted Joe by showing him the delicious peking duck pizza and brownie a la mode and then took it away! Outrageous!
Joe and I wreaked our horrible revenge on the Fairmont family by emptying out the minibar (final score: Brendo - 4 beers, one can of Pringles, one cannister of nuts. Joe - 3 Diet Cokes, a Red Bull, a Snickers and a giant jar of gummy bears) and doing a very low-rent version of "trashing the place." Basically, we threw a few bottles on the floor and wiped food on the robes. It was strangely satisfying while simultaneously being very fucking lame.
This is getting long - I'll continue tomorrow with a report and photos from the actual show. Stay tuned, donkeys...
2 Comments:
Are you planning on posting any photos from the bath tub?
You can access those photos on www.soapyjoesdingle.poop for $29.95 a month.
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