SXGLMSW: Day Three

Jamie: Saturday morning was spent injecting Holiday Inn coffee, bananas and cinnamon rolls into our collective orifices before heading into town for a last minute show at the "Dirty Dog". What Tim failed to mention in his previous entry concerning the Blow-Hole lounge was the fact that I spent the five hours leading up to our 1:00 AM slot in the back of the van dry heaving into a granola bar box lined with plastic pilfered from case of Pringles and Vicks medicated kleenex--Apparently, my BBQ breakfast, Taco lunch and Pho dinner could find no common ground in the United Nations of my stomach, and instead of just up and leaving the premises, the American, Mexican and Vietnamese embassies decided to set fire to my colon, take hostages and dig in for a private revolution. Needless to say, the next morning found me foul. That bitterness was assuaged by a relatively easy drive into the Hot Topic-infested money pit that is 6th street and a tequila, Negro Modelo and pizza lunch. The venue was one of those rare SXSW rooms that actually hosts music year-round as opposed to throwing a PA and a soundman into a corner normally reserved for Corona, Kanye and date rape (Soho Lounge). We played at 2:00 to a crowd of 10 or 15 people and a soundguy that was as sick of hearing 25 bands at the same time as we were and played our best (and most fun) show of the weekend.

Scott: Our buddy Doug Prince came by the gig to rescue us from the legions of male Joan Jetts and took us out of town to a tex-mex joint with fantastic margaritas, edible flowers and no live bands. After that, it was back to his house for Jameson snowcones and dog love. Doug has a couple pooches of his own but their ranks were bolstered by two awesome greyhounds that he was taking care of for a friend. They were rescues, and the sweetest, gentlest dogs we'd encountered in some time. Those of us missing pets got a nice fix over there for sure, but a couple days of daytime drinking and sun exposure made us all feel like college freshmen trippin' balls at a 'Summer Reggae Splash' or something. Spent, we headed back to our digs in Pflugerville and, honestly, I forget when we went to bed. It was damn early by our standards, at any rate. All I remember was Fido slipping out for a "late night snack" while everyone else passed out - leaving me to ponder the odd-assed bands featured on Austin cable access and to settle in for a half hour of "World's Slowest Fucking Car Crashes" (or something) before giving up and hitting the sheets.

Some Photos: