GUEST BLOG: LANDMINE MARATHON’S GRACE PERRY

April 11, 2009

Sitting in the van, I just was educated on what "bats wings" are: For those who don’t know, it’s when your balls stick to your legs. Apparently, I’m very lucky I don’t get bat wings. Last night was spectacular—we played at the Beat Kitchen in Chicago with Lone Wolf and Cub, Harms Way, and the Muzzler. The night started out with some free food and PBR provided by the Beat, which is always greatly appreciated; their nachos are dee-lish. After a triumphant onslaught of metal and heavy drinking at the venue, Dylan, Mike, and I proceeded to terrorize Chicago as best we could. Our superb host Steph took us to a total dive called The L&L. This joint poured stiff and was cheaper then dirt.

Somehow by 3 AM we were all still standing…well, except for Steph. Dylan and Mike carried her out of the bar into a cab and up three flights of stairs. I got into an epic battle with the cab driver because I was sure he didn’t know where he was going. He actually did know exactly where to go, I was just drunk. Sorry, cab man.

By the way, I just heard Matt say, “Remember when you 69ed that cougar?”

This morning my whole band was wide-awake and perky at 8 fucking AM. That means it was 6 AM in Phoenix. Let's just say I was a little grumpy. Luckily after a scrumptious breakfast at Earwax (yummy vegan pancakes), I felt alive again.

Right now we’re waiting to play an evil house show in the illustrious and mystical Columbus, Ohio, where every record store in the city closes at 6 PM on Saturday. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera so I apologize for all the shitty camera phone pics.

The dog is Steph’s child Meah, who is the new love of my life and resembles more of a pig-rabbit then anything else. Also, a picture of the horrendous creature I sat next to on the plane ride to Chicago…Four and half hours of beat boxing and puppet shows underneath his siqqqqq shirt.

April 12, 2009

House shows are always outstanding. I am bleeding through my shoe and there's some shirtless kid’s blood all over Mike's drum set. Columbus knows how to party. The lineup actually included an impressive Death cover band called Infernal Death that literally and figuratively “tore it up.” The kids went bananas all night.

At one point I was buried under a pile of exceptionally sweaty dudes clutching the mic as tight as I could.

It is always an odd feeling after any show when you’re not quite certain whose sweat, blood, and spit is dripping from your body.

A sincere apology goes out to anyone I may have kicked. It's not attractive when I pathetically attempt to get violent. Also, just want show my immense gratitude toward any crowd that is not afraid to pick me up and toss me about. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Next is Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania… I’m hoping the Mr. Roboto Project treats us to the same tenderness Columbus had to offer.

By the way, I just took a sleeping pill, which is a shitty idea at 3 AM. Don’t worry, gang, they are prescribed to me…but not necessarily to the rest of my band (hope they don’t get too ridiculous). We’re staying with a really nice, quiet guy named Evan tonight. In just two hours I know each one of us has crossed the creep line in some way. When I start obnoxiously making fun of his dog’s MASSIVE balls, and Ryan and Matt discuss taking a hawt man shower together, it’s time for bed. I’m so happy tomorrow's drive is only a few hours; hopefully we’ll have time to stop in wherever Gummo was filmed and finally pick up the ultimate roadie. I promise we won’t let him hunt any cats.

Talked to my mom on the phone for an hour today profusely apologizing because I’m not home to dye eggs on Easter. Apparently being 23 and traveling across the country to scream for a metal band is very inconvenient for the family. That’s why I love her so much. Happy Easter, Mom!

Grrrace