Download the album!Not Here For a Long Time; Here For a Good Time
Vol. III
(I usually don't, but I'm going with the Oxford comma today.)
Vol. III
(I usually don't, but I'm going with the Oxford comma today.)
Hola, amigos. It's been so long--where do we start? Since Sam doesn't know how to work the internets very good, I suppose I'll fill in some of her story with some pictures.
This is what happens when you buy a van equipped with tires that are severely under-rated:
Epic fail. Don't try this at home. Changing the tire would not have been that bad, if not for the sparrow-sized horseflies cruising around eastern Texas.
After a surprisingly good show in Lubbock, we rolled up to Amarillo. I'm always surprised/disappointed by the sour faces some people make when we talk about Texas--especially when most of them have never visited. Take our word: Texas is one of the greatest places in the country; you will not meet friendlier folks anywhere else. (coming from a bunch of Iowans, that says a lot) We stayed with our good friends Tiffany and Louie and, as usual, had a grand ol' time. We sat in lawnchairs, we played with dogs, we grilled, we slip-n-slided, and we even played a show.
After TX, we headed up to Albuquerque, NM for a show with our friends Jon and Nick. We would have liked to stay longer, but we elected to do the bulk of our drive to San Diego overnight. While this plan sounded good on paper, it ended up putting us in the California desert at about 11:00 the next day--it certainly wasn't cold. It made our arrival in San Diego that much nicer, though. The ocean breeze was a welcome respite.
We were all happy to hang out with the greatest Labrador in the world: Huxley H. Huxtable. He is 120 lbs. of pure love.
We picked up an additional traveller in San Diego, our good friend Michael May. He usually tours with us, but he was only able to tag along for a week this year. A good time was had by all.
Long van rides are guaranteed to be more fun (if not louder) with Michael in the van. The drive north to LA was a boisterous affair, to be sure. We played the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood, going on after a great set by Philly homeboys Dr. Dog. We headed out of the city that night, and started our trek north to the bay area.
We played a sweet show in Oakland at a warehouse dubbed Ghost Town Gallery. (actually, I'm probably not supposed to say that in print, but somebody that lived there stole Drew's iPod, so screw it.) We were in Oaktown all weekend, and played an acoustic 4th of July show on Sunday. It was a surreal, weird, fun time.
David flew out of Oakland that night to fly to DC for a client meeting (he has a secret identity as a computer nerd). The rest of the gang went camping in northern California. Can you guess who had a better time?
The tribe picked up David Earl in Portland; from there we drove to Seattle to drop Michael May the Male Dancer off at the train station. We took our sweet time and went swimming in a river north of PDX. Michael May the Part Time Nudist was in rare form. A good time was had by all.
peace.
love.
fleetwood mac.
This is what happens when you buy a van equipped with tires that are severely under-rated:
Epic fail. Don't try this at home. Changing the tire would not have been that bad, if not for the sparrow-sized horseflies cruising around eastern Texas.
After a surprisingly good show in Lubbock, we rolled up to Amarillo. I'm always surprised/disappointed by the sour faces some people make when we talk about Texas--especially when most of them have never visited. Take our word: Texas is one of the greatest places in the country; you will not meet friendlier folks anywhere else. (coming from a bunch of Iowans, that says a lot) We stayed with our good friends Tiffany and Louie and, as usual, had a grand ol' time. We sat in lawnchairs, we played with dogs, we grilled, we slip-n-slided, and we even played a show.
After TX, we headed up to Albuquerque, NM for a show with our friends Jon and Nick. We would have liked to stay longer, but we elected to do the bulk of our drive to San Diego overnight. While this plan sounded good on paper, it ended up putting us in the California desert at about 11:00 the next day--it certainly wasn't cold. It made our arrival in San Diego that much nicer, though. The ocean breeze was a welcome respite.
We were all happy to hang out with the greatest Labrador in the world: Huxley H. Huxtable. He is 120 lbs. of pure love.
We picked up an additional traveller in San Diego, our good friend Michael May. He usually tours with us, but he was only able to tag along for a week this year. A good time was had by all.
Long van rides are guaranteed to be more fun (if not louder) with Michael in the van. The drive north to LA was a boisterous affair, to be sure. We played the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood, going on after a great set by Philly homeboys Dr. Dog. We headed out of the city that night, and started our trek north to the bay area.
We played a sweet show in Oakland at a warehouse dubbed Ghost Town Gallery. (actually, I'm probably not supposed to say that in print, but somebody that lived there stole Drew's iPod, so screw it.) We were in Oaktown all weekend, and played an acoustic 4th of July show on Sunday. It was a surreal, weird, fun time.
David flew out of Oakland that night to fly to DC for a client meeting (he has a secret identity as a computer nerd). The rest of the gang went camping in northern California. Can you guess who had a better time?
The tribe picked up David Earl in Portland; from there we drove to Seattle to drop Michael May the Male Dancer off at the train station. We took our sweet time and went swimming in a river north of PDX. Michael May the Part Time Nudist was in rare form. A good time was had by all.
peace.
love.
fleetwood mac.
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