Friday, September 28, 2007

copenhagen. little mermaid. hans christian andersen

This is a really beautiful city. I wish we had a day off here; I never have in the past... which in a way is a good thing because it's also an incredibly expensive city. Everyone here is gorgeous... must be all the cycling they do around town. I don't know.

Autumn has hit us with force. I don't know where it came from; I had my sunshine earlier, but now it's gone. We have tentative plans (and a firm reservation) for the Ice Bar here, but I might be too tired to start guzzling vodka at midnight. How pussy is that? I also don't have a very warm coat and there is some confusion as to whether or not warm coats and mittens are supplied.

We are on the last leg of this tour. Only 8 more shows to go. Sigh.

I really want some sardines.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

wolverhampton to cambridge

Internet interruptions... days off sleeping... so many distractions keep me from maintaining my blog. Oh well. It happens.

Wolverhampton: Civic Hall again... fantastic dressing rooms with jacuzzi tubs and multi-spigot showers! Ah, the showers. Blissful. That and another Gregg's pasty.

Leicester: Rather forgettable show. The audience were very polite... the hall was very nice, if I remember correctly. Then again, maybe I've forgotten for a reason. Oh wait! TM's birthday! Catering just off the lobby bar! LAUNDRY!!! Yes, I remember it well. I have photos and there was Tetris Burial Plot plans posted.

Day off, Bristol: Absolutely up to no good. We (mark, ian, val, aoife and me) got bicycles off the hotel and rode 15 or so miles to Bath. Unfortunately the ride took a while, so we didn't get to explore -- more a shame for Val than anyone else since she hadn't been there since she was a schoolgirl. We had lunch and took the train back, where we met up with the rest of the motley crew for Cider (yes, with a capital "c") and Curry. Scandals were started and the rumour mill hasn't rested since...

Bristol: It happened to be International Talk Like a Pirate Day. This show deserves it's own post with photos. Watch this space.

Sheffield: Gorgeous hall; ballroom in the basement... Good show? yes? Bueller? I don't remember. It's not like I've done piles of psychedelic drugs to wreck my memory center, but I forgot to bring my memory pills with me on tour. I keep forgetting things. Oh yes. Disco after. *shudders*

No, just remembered. Nice hall just opposite John Lewis. I bought a Rowan book. Charlie2Loud blew me out. I also bought DVDs. Clearly I have a spending problem.

Day off, Cardiff: What can I say? I slept. All day. Ate at a great restaurant up the hill with Mark and Fads after their drenched bicycle ride... the dessert menu was grand (as in THE BIGGEST I'VE EVER SEEN!) I opted for the volcano cake, but they called it something else. It was sheer gluttony. Met up with the young lads for post-dining drinks and stayed up to the wee hours... hence, show day was harsh.

Cardiff: Harsh. I didn't understand the cleaning woman when she asked if "(I) would door the open for (her)" Huh? Still don't understand her. I had a moment when I wanted to pummel the little fella, and she did her "at the gyno" impression for Aoife. All were unimpressed. What can I say? It WAS a good show -- and the Rio across the street was jumping. No internet. Grim, grim, grim. 2 days without internet... thought I might die.

Cambridge: Loves it. Market day, didn't go. Was too busy being not busy? I didn't sleep even though I clearly needed it. Bus didn't have shore power... so it was dark. I was scared to get stuck out there with the door open so I avoided it like the plague. Little Fella threw a strop! It was so funny. Confrontation. Resolution. Well, not really... what is it called when two sides agree to disagree? Denouement? No, I'll have to look that up later. Again, Brain = Sieve. Lamby shanky for din-din. Ate too much, needed a belly rub.

London, day off: no sleep for the wardrobe slave! Costumes to collect... frustration to be had! Sleep for a few hours and then nothing. No one. Abandoned and lonely, it was reminiscent of a tour a few years ago when I got dumped at a London hotel on my birthday. Alone. I tried to cry, but couldn't.

London: Royal Albert Hall. My first time actually INSIDE the building. I must say, I was very impressed. I didn't climb into the Queen's box, because I was certain some Bobby or a guy in a fuzzy hat would repel from the corolla and knock me to the ground. She, not unlike Brittney Spears and other white trash (i.e. Little Fella) has a double-wide! Honest! I got the royal tour -- well, not royal, per se, but I did get to go up into the roof. I crapped out on going all the way to the very top but did stand on the grate up above the mushroom thingies. You have to empty your pockets when you're up there -- that alone makes the trek daunting. I would've gone to the very top, except I couldn't let go of the iron grate...

The show went off well. Dean didn't think the costumes were ruined; they should look great on the DVD at any rate... I guess I'll find out soon. I also think I managed to not make it onto the DVD! Yippee!

OK. Bed.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

what the...

I have a bone to pick with They block the full-length shows outside of the US. This means I cannot watch Ugly Betty and Gray's Anatomy while here, in the UK. I have a US IP address... my computer is a US computer. I just want my broadcast-TV!


another round of catch-up

I've been remiss (again) with blogging. Here's the low-down:

Nottingham: can't remember much. Had a cheese and onion pasty from Greggs. It was delish.

York: Still a gorgeous city. Kirsten, the tourist, had a go about doing monitors for the support band. I rolled my eyes and bought a snow-globe.

Day off, Grimsby: Desolate. Glen and Kirsten were up all night, collecting dead animals and having a roll in the hay. I went to Cleethorpes with Rickey, Howard and Ian. We had fish and peas and a stroll on the beach (which was deserted). We also scored Rickey a Jack Daniel's tin (it's the man's birthday month and there are giveaways, apparently).

Grimsby: Converted gymnasium. Too much pigeon poo. The production office had nice couches.

Glasgow: Academy again. Scored a trick at the Barrowlands, but have yet to use it. Didn't find a deep-fried mars bar. Extreme disappointment mentally, gastric-ly sound. Also, I didn't set off the alarm! Hoorah! Drunken fan with verbal abuses over Mr. Fox at the end of the night. Bastard.

Edinburgh: Asda shopping (bingo and sea battle -- both slightly different from their American counterparts). I missed out on the 10-pin bowling, unfortunately, but was otherwise a very good day indeed.

Day off, Newcastle: Lunch with H and R; Nik joined us after arriving by train. Drink in the Charles Grey with truck drivers. Curry dinner and spastic colon. Russians in the bar and a bartender who didn't understand plain English. Sigh.

Newcastle: Academy. Catering at the back of the hall. Otherwise not a memorable day. Oh yeah, zipper malfunction on stage (Bell's jacket zip pull came off); first time I thought I'd be sent home... paranoia rules.

Preston: Sad, sleepy town with a lovely square. Sun shining and gum disposal receptacle. Ian bought me a camping wine glass. Happiness. Stress over Manchester tomorrow...

Manchester: Mad day. Apollo. Crack whores. Val thinking a tramp was Mildred. I was in hiding; then got a hiding from both the TM and PM. Tears shed, hugs given, sleep came very late. Otherwise it was a fantastic gig!

Day off, Norwich: Stress over possibly being sent home, catching up with Hagos and wife, Wagamama and Meg the cat. Apologies (one sided) and drinks, late to bed again.

Norwich: UEA is always a nice gig. No students this time around, just rabbits. Catering was stepped up a notch, unbelievably -- seemed impossible, but it happened. I'm getting very fat indeed.

That takes us to Wolverhampton where I'm typing away in the production office... laundry is off to the laundrette and we're awaiting the arrival of hot water. Oh the little things.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

it's amazing. really.

I was paid a very high compliment by our promoter rep last night; he told me I'd be British except for my accent. We were discussing the other 'mericans on the tour and he said he couldn't understand how I could be so un-American in demeanor.

This really made my day. I needed it after my previous miserable day. Thanks, Mark.

Friday, September 7, 2007

grimsby. not so grim.

Tonight's show is really great, actually. Crowd are fantastic, the only problem is that it's TOO DAMN HOT! Can you believe it? September, North of England and HOT. ARGH. It's a plague. And Al Gore is SO right.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

european vacation?

Today we're in Oxford -- our first "real" show is tomorrow night; today is a type of production run-through to see what doesn't work. So far the staging is fucked up. That's nice.

Flying over on Wednesday was relatively stress-free! I was offered a transfer from BA to Lufthansa which would leave sooner, arrive one hour later, but I'd have $400 in my pocket for agreeing to swap. I don't like Lufthansa, but it was worth it in the end...

Thursday afternoon, met up with a friend. He has lost an amazing amount of weight and almost doesn't look like himself! We had a coffee. I had coffee all afternoon, and by the time we met up with the others for a late dinner, I also had a curious case of the cranks. It was extreme.

So, some sleep later, I felt better. Friday was spent taking care of the sabotaged costume... doesn't even look like anything was ever wrong with it! Hoorah!

Saturday? Flight to Dublin. Electric Picnic. Saw two old co-workers. Skinny guy from the Jesus and Mary Chain -- the one with the fro? He's now old and fat. Eh. Beastie Boys? They are 2/3 all grey. It was a long day, but it didn't rain.

Today? Flight from Dublin to London, drive to Oxford. Find out that our (the crew) hotel is crap... haven't gone there yet, it's now quarter past 9 in the evening. I don't know that I'll ever see my bed... and really? I just need to see the insides of my eyelids. Damnitall.