f 7inchSlam.com: Fucked Up Weekend

11.08.2006

Fucked Up Weekend

While I'm even more guilty of laziness than my other contributors, I feel it's important to say that I at least left the country in the last two weeks. I don't think either of them left their couches. However, suffice it to say, I'm back. I got the chance to cross the border into the Great White North with 7inchslam.com's favorite little teenage asshole, the singer of Rot Shit and world's number one shitbag, Lil' Vinnie.

Since we had planned to take a trip up to Toronto for the Fucked Up release extravaganza, I figured it would be a perfect time to get completely wrecked for two days, eat all the food in the city, buy all the records there, obtain illicit drugs and do them on the street, and all the various other nonsense that a mini-vacation entails. However, in grand Steve fashion, almost nothing worked out right and all I wanted to do was go back to Pittsburgh after about twelve hours.



Since we were leaving at 2 PM on a Friday (I took the day off, Vinnie quit his job), we decided it would be prudent to accompany one Mr. Tony Valone to my favorite pub, Piper's in Pittsburgh's South Side for some celebratory pints. Vinnie stuck with Piper's tastiest pint, the McEwan's IPA. I had three different pints: the Belhaven St. Andrew's Ale, a Franziskaner Weissbier (served in the fruitiest glass ever, which will get you made fun of by assholes drinking Labatt's like dogs), and also a Spaten Optimator.

We were picked up from the pub drunk in the afternoon and proceeded to annoy the others in the car with complaints of full bladders and empty stomachs. So once we got on the interstate, I made Rachel pull over at a gas station where I witnessed something I'd never seen in my years of honestly enjoying convenience-store snacks. This gas station (whose name and location I forget but was most likely located on I-79 North) had a case with ready-made Hot Pockets. Now that was a great idea.



I picked up a Beef and Cheddar, two hot dogs: one with chili and cheese and one with mustard and relish and onion, and then began stealing Vinnie's bags of Andy Capp's Hot Fries. So after getting drunk in the morning, I was full of the world's crappiest food in the car. Since I couldn't smoke, I attempted to lull myself into the realm of schleep to no avail. After the weather began to be unbearable, I offended the front seat with backhanded comments then demanded more food. We pulled into an Arby's, I ate a Beef Bacon Cheddar melt before anyone even got to the ketchup stand, then decided to go outside and vomit in the rain for ten minutes. The weekend was shaping up poorly.



By the time we made it to the first show, we had to stand an hour in the rain with Chuck Barrels of Terminal Boredom fame waiting to get in and see Pittsburgh locals Brain Handle play to a big crowd with sweet bands. Good for them, ya know? WRONG. No one gets let in forever, I'm freezing to death, Vinnie is screaming at everyone telling them they're queens, mandatory coat check, we miss Brain Handle.... just lovely. Fuck that.

Up next was Mind Eraser, a band I've seen in a basement (punishing) and own both of their LP's (destructive). They opened with a cover of "Black Sabbath" and raged hard for their set. I was expecting a little more Neanderthal dance-floor insanity but I just saw a bunch of gimps in sweatsuits jumping onto the backs of little Toronto HC fops. Great set nonetheless, and their records must be checked out to be believed. They play powerviolence with belligerent metal leanings and classic Nor'easter angst.

After that, the band we were most excited to see, Pissed Jeans, took the stage. Since I'd missed their recent Pittsburgh show, I was more excited than ever. Vinnie and I had double-fisted beers as soon as we got in, so I was feeling pretty lubed-up and ready to yell. When Da Jeans took the stage with "Throbbing Organ", I attempted to stage-dive, fell on my back, didn't care, kept drinking and screaming, and enjoyed the four song set as much as ever. The slow crushing jam from the recent Sub Pop 7" sounded great, and the packed-in feel of the crowd (the room was shaped very oddly, more of a DJ spot than a rock club) made it a lot of fun.



I'd like to take a minute to discuss Canadian beer. Canada: your beer is fucking awful. Who is going to drink Labatt 50 in America? No one, because we have the good sense to actually not pay five dollars a bottle for horseshit that must be imbibed double-time to get you drunk. This ain't Utah, asshole. Fuck that! I did not have a passable beer in Canada till the next day. And by the time the Bayonettes, Brutal Knights, and Regulations got to play at the White Orchid, I was already pretty pissed. Saw a great performance by the Bayonettes, who really impressed and inspired me to start digging for their records. Brutal Knights got the crowd moving and were OK, but by this time I'd had it with everyone there, including our host, Vinnie, all the kids who showed up, the weather, lack of food, and since I was baked anyway, I just shut up and watched Vinnie ruin everything. A punch to the forehead from myself later quieted him down for about five minutes. I missed most of Regulations, but I stand by my love for that band still, even when everyone else chides them for being unoriginal. Yeah, your Discharge rip-off band sure has some catchy songs.

After finding a random showgoer to stay with, Vinnie and I awoke to find ourselves stranded in Toronto with no bags, not much money, a set of keys that weren't ours, no ride, and no clue where to go next. We decided to head to Queen Street where the next show was. We were very pleased to learn that Toronto has AMAZING HOT DOGS.



For those who know me, this is possibly the best thing I could see happening. The first spot we stopped at had new toppings I never even thought of, such as yellow corn with red peppers. They had an excellent mustard, BBQ sauce, fresh relish and onions, and basically the makings of a perfect street dog. For $2.50 Canadian you could snag a large dog with a toasted bun. Vinnie and I both took part with reckless abandon, since we were very hungry and very unconcerned with how crappy everything was turning out and what to do next.

With about eight hours till showtime, Vinnie and I wandered over to Noise Annoys records, Cloud 9 headshop, and a great little pub called the Gorilla Monsoon. As we walked in, we noticed the nice decor, giant TV with the Milan v. Inter match on, and one pissed-up English dude calling everyone "fackin' greasy cunts". So we sat down and started getting drunk while we waited for Rachel to show up again. This place was a bright spot, because despite having only like six beers in the whole joint, one was American and the guys there were awesome bartenders and funny as shit. We BS'ed with the English guy Greg about the Cockney Rejects and Manchester City and United. Great time. I should also note by now that Chuck Barrels flaked today for the Sabres game. Christ!



After getting wasted high with them, it was time to get more hot dogs. They also served veggie dogs for $1.50 right outside so you should be in luck if you're veggin' it up in the Queen City. The night was a blur after that. Got to see Formaldehyde Junkies play a raging, shambolic set with the worst guitar tone in history, saw Criminal Damage's only East Coast show which sounded amazing and made me surprised at my recent respect for well-done Oi, saw the Darvocets suck live as well as on record, watched a little of Regulations again, didn't care about Nine Shocks Terror or Fucked up or Drop Dead. I was done. I wanted out. I needed to be back home. And in order to do that, I had to miss Career Suicide (who have raged the two times I've seen them) and the Inmates (who I was very disappointed to miss again) at the Saturday afterparty. I got home at 7 AM to see the Steelers lose. Fuck that. Here's a shot of Criminal Damage for y'all:



Here's a great gyro I forgot about. I also realized I brought beer everywhere I went:



Also, somehow Vinnie got babes to lick him. That little fucker.



Canada doesn't have poutine if you're not a Frog, has good hot dogs, costs too much money, hot Asian babes everywhere, has the worst beer ever, sweet record stores, drugs galore, and a bunch of other shit I'd talk about if I wasn't already boring myself. Thanks to Rachel for bringing us, Sian for putting us up, Vinnie for making me look awesome by comparison, and no thanks to the people who flaked on us and screwed us over on Friday night. You suck! Till next time! See ya!



*Posted by Steve-O

PS: For the rest of our trip, you can check it out here.

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6 Comments:

Blogger Baby Pop said...

Have you ever been able to find the elusive Hot Dog Flavored Potato Chips? I think Snyders made them. I found them once in a hospital vending machine. They're the ultimate scumbag food.

9:43 AM  
Blogger Steve-O said...

I've never even heard of that. Sounds pretty weird. Could I handle it? If they were kettle chips, pehaps.

9:46 AM  
Anonymous rachel said...

and all i have to show for it is this oversized career suicide novelty pin...

9:54 AM  
Blogger Steve said...

Dang, this post calls for comments filled with Canadian stereotype jokes, but I think we can all get along without them.

Quality post, Steve.

10:33 AM  
Blogger girl said...

my idiot friends were in toronto for all that nonsense too, i think.

11:03 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Canadian beer sucks? For someone from a country that bestowed the world with such mistakes as Rolling Rock and Sam Adams (known otherwise as the best American beer) I don't know why I feel inclined to validate such an opinion with a response but I will. I assume your opinion stems from having tasted something which if you are from America will be a new experience whilst drinking beer. Unfortunatly for you the taste you experienced is the reason why no one I know would drink fucking 50 or Canadian to save their mother from the gallows. Next time you are in Canada instead of behaving like a deer caught in the headlights when you are up at the bar why not ask for a Steamwhistle, Mill St. Stout, Creemore Springs Ale, Sleeman's Silver Creek Lager or even a St. Ambroise. Don't let your enjoyment of beer get hamstrung in foreign countries due to your natural american tendancy towards ingnorance/arrogance! Cheers.

3:05 PM  

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