I love playing at EJ’s but I gotta admit this show really sucked. No one was there and everyone there was practically asleep. I’d like to elaborate but I’d just as soon forget about it.

Another rad show at the Leech house. Their basement seems to have the best shows in town these days. Mad props to Dave for singing the end of Feeding Time with a construction worker hard hat on and a shot out to the village people. Next time I want to be the Indian.

After being awakened by a biker guy who’s presence is so disturbing I can’t even write about it we got moving and headed to California. The place we were playing that night was about 2 hours west of San Francisco but we really wanted to see S.F., so bit the bullet and drove the extra miles. We got there mid afternoon and played tourist for as long as we could. We saw Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf and even Lombard Street (no – the van would not fit on it!) and then bolted for Merced. We ended up getting there really late. There were 3 other bands playing that night and since we arrived last we had to play last. Usually that sucks, but the good news is that about 15-20 people stuck around and seemed to have fun, even at 1 in the morning. The bad news is that $5 really doesn’t help out the gas tank too much when you are 14 hours from home. That night we slept in the van outside of Yosemite Park with plans of touring the park in the morning before driving home. It was really hot in the van and 3 hours of sleep just didn’t cut it. We awoke at the crack of dawn, bathed in some campground sinks and then crusied around the park for a few hours. Yosemite is beautiful. Everything there is so big, the mountains, the redwoods, etc. We wanted to stay all day but we had to get back to Portland. All in all it was a good trip, but 1800 miles is probably a bit much to cram into one weekend.

Tonight’s show went really well. Daddy O’s is a rad club and John is a great guy to work with. People who see shows in Ashland are very nice, especially the ones who let us sleep on their floor (Kyle and Jason). We were each offered a chance to sleep on “the ghetto couch” but with a name and reputation like that we all opted for the floor.

Before I get into this I want to say that all of the wrestlers we met tonight and all of the wrestling managers were very cool and very friendly. They are the only ones who made this evening remotely tolerable. Ok now that that is out of the way here’s what I want you to do … think of an obscene word … preferably a verb. Keep thinking of that word … now insert it into the following sentence … ____ Portland Pro Wrestling. Hopefully your word started with ‘F’ and was four letters. Mine did. So here’s the deal, we were supposed to play at this wrestling match to try to get wrestling to appeal to a younger crowd. Wrestling and loud music .. seems natural to me. I tell you they have got a long way to go. The first four people in there had walkers. Over time, the place kept filling up with gray haired old women and little kids. However we were actually expecting this, so we were smart and had set up in the far corner of this huge gymnasium (as far away as possible) and sound checked everything at half volume. We were informed that half volume might be too loud so we turned it down to 1/3 volume. So here we are set to 1/3 volume and tucked away in the corner of this gym. However it just wasn’t good enough for the fine fans of Portland Pro Wrestling. After the place fills up we start to play. About 30 seconds into we realized that everyone (particularly the old people) hated it. Hate isn’t a strong enough word … loathed it would be more appropriate. This should symbolize it all … within two minutes, we saw an elderly woman holding her ears and being rushed from the gym in her wheelchair by another old woman who was trying to cover her ears as well. It was awful. Little kids and grandparents sat in utter and complete misery as we played our songs. The smart ones got up and left. The other just sat and complained out loud. I felt like the biggest idiot … playing for an empty wrestling ring, a bunch of empty seats and some kid with down’s syndrome who insisted on air guitaring along with me. (Don’t get me wrong, he was a pretty nice guy, but you need to appreciate the utter crappiness of this scene). So, we trudged through 4 songs and were told to quit. Not asked … told. So a 15 minute set kinda sucked, but it was no big deal … because we were still set to play one song in between each wrestling match, which would make it 5 more songs plus the intermission. So the first match ends and we start playing “still the same” right on cue. About 90 seconds into it the owner comes over and gives us the signal to quit. Totally cut off … mid song … I think even mid vocals. They promptly started the next match. So Dave walks up to the owner to find out what was up. He tells us to go ahead and pack up and then leave. We drove all the way up there with our entire PA, set the whole thing up and didn’t even get to play 5 songs. Dave tells the guy what to do with his attitude and job. I didn’t get a chance to say anything at the time so here it is … on behalf of 800 Octane … fuck the marshall center, fuck the owner of portland pro wrestling, fuck the promoter of portland pro wrestling, fuck all of the management of portland pro wrestling, fuck the fans of portland pro wrestling, fuck anyone associated with portland pro wrestling and most of all fuck that old goat in the wheelchair covering her ears who couldn’t get out before the rock hit her upside the head. Octane 3:16 mother fuckers!