Writer. Warning: opinions. My lawyer advised a disclaimer, but didn't include any jokes to go with. Damned if I can think of any either.

Road Trip to Tuscaloosa

91 dodge caravan

Fran and Mossimo and I all went to Tuscaloosa on Thursday to play a sorority party. We usually have a good time on road trips, and this time was no exception. Our last one to New Orleans ended with Francisco farting in the car 15 minutes from home and nearly killing everyone. In the words of Tenacious D, that’s fuckin teamwork!

This trip was a lot easier because it wasn’t that far away, and because I’ve been to the town before and I sort of know my way around. Tuscaloosa, by the way, is the town where the University of Alabama is located.

There are gallery pictures documenting the trip, for those of you who require more visual stimulation.

Francisco sort of has a musician exchange program with Italy. He met some Italians years ago in a bar here in Atlanta. That turned into a short Italian tour for him, and then some of them came and stayed here in the States for a while, and the whole thing has been going on ever since. Right now we have Mossimo, the Italian drummer, which means I am on bass.

Mossimo is a nice guy, he just doesn’t speak a lot of English. I have had to learn a few Italian words so I can tell him how to get through songs. Piano, for instance, means soft.

Friday he and I did an early gig at Ray’s in the city. This is a very upscale corporate gig downtown. They normally have a piano guy playing soft jazz or whatever, but sometimes they have us instead. I don’t know why, because their clientele are tres snooty, but whatever, a gig’s a gig.

I was explaining to Mossimo about needing to be quiet on this gig, so I told him “Piano, piano!”.

He nodded, “Piano”.

Then I plugged my mic in to my PA which was still turned up from Thursday night at the sorority party, and a sonic-boom-loud clap of thunder detonated from the speakers. Three lawyers immediately shit themselves, a fashion designer barfed up $50 of sushi, and seven tourists peed their capri pants.

“Jeem, Jeem…” Mossimo said, shaking his head.

Little Italian bastardo.

One thought on “Road Trip to Tuscaloosa”

  1. Fuzzy Grey

    I have a song……maybe you can polish it up….. It goes something like this…. “I wish Jim would hit it big…..so he can get a camera….. that doesn’t fucking suck so much. Maybe someday….. he’ll have a camera….. that can take a fucking picture! Maybe someday….. his photo album…. will be full of pictures… where… yoooooooooooooou can see what he was trying to take a picture of………because they’re not blurry.. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNND it’s not too fucking dark to see….. Yeah, someday…. Someday… SOMEDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY Jim will throw away the fucking disposable because that’s why they are called disposable and get a real fucking cameraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! oooh Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!” (smash guitar) THANK YOU ATLANTA!!!!!