This weekend, I joined my compadres in French Lick for the 2nd annual Year Up Carnaval fundraiser. Last year, we played with Shaggy. This year, we shared the stage with the kick-ass Ozomatli. Some highlights:
- Returning from the deep woods of Rochester for the show, Joe Welsh was sporting some rather overwhelming facial hair. This was not a beard to be trifled with. A friend actually said to him in all honesty "You look like Brian Wilson when he went schizo." Surprisingly enough, it wasn't taken as a compliment.
- Speaking Joe getting angry, Pete "12-Gauge" Galea nailed him but good. During dinner, we discovered we had an investment advisor named John seated at our table. While Joe was outside smoking/making out with Jordan, Pete came up with a brilliant evil plan for some shenanigans.
When Joe came back, we started a casual conversation about stock advice during which John "coincidentally" shit all over Joe's entire investment portfolio. Slowly, Joe's face dropped lower and lower as he imagined his wife and unborn son living in a cardboard box due to his inept financial planning. It was funny.
(Hey, one of these days, we should probably let Joe know we were kidding, huh?)
- Since 12-Gauge is French Lick's erstwhile bass player, I was on background vocals/percussion duty. In my world, this means one thing: tambourine injuries. Whenever I get on tambourine, I do more damage to my body than an NFL lineman on heroin. I end up with blisters and bruises all over my hands and right thigh (as I am not afraid to shake it Susan Dey-style). The tambourine - not just for fruitypantses anymore.
- Speaking of fruitypants, here was 12-Gauge's carnaval-themed outfit for the evening:
- Returning from the deep woods of Rochester for the show, Joe Welsh was sporting some rather overwhelming facial hair. This was not a beard to be trifled with. A friend actually said to him in all honesty "You look like Brian Wilson when he went schizo." Surprisingly enough, it wasn't taken as a compliment.
- Speaking Joe getting angry, Pete "12-Gauge" Galea nailed him but good. During dinner, we discovered we had an investment advisor named John seated at our table. While Joe was outside smoking/making out with Jordan, Pete came up with a brilliant evil plan for some shenanigans.
When Joe came back, we started a casual conversation about stock advice during which John "coincidentally" shit all over Joe's entire investment portfolio. Slowly, Joe's face dropped lower and lower as he imagined his wife and unborn son living in a cardboard box due to his inept financial planning. It was funny.
(Hey, one of these days, we should probably let Joe know we were kidding, huh?)
- Since 12-Gauge is French Lick's erstwhile bass player, I was on background vocals/percussion duty. In my world, this means one thing: tambourine injuries. Whenever I get on tambourine, I do more damage to my body than an NFL lineman on heroin. I end up with blisters and bruises all over my hands and right thigh (as I am not afraid to shake it Susan Dey-style). The tambourine - not just for fruitypantses anymore.
- Speaking of fruitypants, here was 12-Gauge's carnaval-themed outfit for the evening:
I don't know if this photograph really captures the majesty or tightness of Pete's pants. At one point, I was trying to have a conversation with him about something unrelated and had to stop and say, "I'm sorry, Pete... I just can't seem to stop staring at your cock." Don't get me wrong - I didn't want to stare at Pete's cock. It was just right there. Pete's cock.
Thanks so much to the Year Up people for having us (and Pete's cock) for their fantastic event. We look forward to bringing our particular brand of Pete's cock to the event next year.
2 Comments:
That photo has made me blind.
That's hottttt!
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