On Wednesday, July 9, the family and I returned from Columbia , where we'd gone to visit the exchange student who lived with us for most of 2007. My stomach still felt like it had a tree growing in it, the result of a volcanic case of tourista. I violated every precept of safe eating on the trip, consuming raw, unpeeled fruit, non-pasteurized cheese, drinks with ice cubes and lettuce. Thanks to Cipro, I avoided permanent latrine duty, save for one highly entertaining 24-hour period in Bogota. I prayed to every god I could think of for relief, even the ones with multiple arms and extra eyeballs.
On Thursday, Kenton and I had a church band rehearsal, followed by consecutive KDOG gigs on Friday and Saturday. Then, of course two church gigs on Sunday: the contemporary service at 11:30 am and the ultra-feely FLOW service at 5 p.m. This brutal schedule of musical activities made me as happy as a kid with a new bike.
I prepared for the Friday night gig at Swabbies by taking two slugs of Pepto Bismol for insurance. I was planning to assault my digestive tubing with the excellent tacos at Swabbies and had no interest in duplicating the famous story Joe Walsh tells about simultaneously crapping his pants and throwing up while on stage in London with The James Gang. The roadies rigged up a towel like a giant diaper to hide the stains on Walsh's pants. Joe never stopped playing. The crowd went nuts at this bit of showmanship, but I preferred to stick to my more traditional stage antics.
Favorite moment: Nick showed up wearing a t-shirt he'd made. It featured a picture of a retarded chihuahua and "KDOG" in block letters. The dog sort of looked like Kenton. I knew Kenton would go berserk when he saw the shirt. "Why do you insist on baiting him like this?" I asked Nick. People loved the shirt, though. "You know, we could probably sell 30 of those things tonight if we had them," I told Drew. I thought we should change "KDOG" to "Que Dog," though. I'd still like to produce this design.
Kenton laughed when he finally saw the shirt, but threatened to rip it off Nick's body if he dared to take the stage wearing it. I thought Kenton should let Nick wear the shirt. But, then, it's not my name. I suppose I'd feel differently if Nick showed up in a shirt that said "Dean" over a color photograph of a bulldog's asshole.
©2008 Edward Dean Chance. All Rights Reserved.
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