Get Er Done Tour Blog #1 Day 6: Tarannah

We rolled into Toronto like syphilis making a comeback. Having only slept two hours before leaving Deadmonton, and getting seated in kiddie playland on the four hour plane ride, we separated right quick to find dark corners to die in.

After a solid 14 hour catch up nap and a few half-assed remorsefully alcoholic promises never to wrestle that rider again, we were back in the saddle, this time joined by DJ Barbi and rap-pop group, The Royal
Society.

Oh Wrongbar, there ain’t nothing wrong about you. You’re like sex on wheels after a six month stint in the Don. Here’s a pic of the Pink Mafia Street Team, keeping it on lock.

L-R: Mica, Melania, Some Dude, Maddy

Lineup by midnight, hot barmaids busting spontaneous dance moves, and the door girl tossing hangover cookies between taking covers; it was definitely a Get Er Done date.

The ladies of Bitchin’ finally got their time to shine

Dancefloor was poppin ‘ basically all night.

Here’s a pretty picture of Charlie showing off the “Slut” stamp.

To the asshole who stole the slut-stamp: you better fucking save it as a souvenir. If we ever see it used anywhere, we’ll probably feed you your own ass Pink Mafia style. Interested in knowing more on this subject?
Ask around. I’m sure there are plenty of peeps who’d love to tell you exactly what that means.

Maren had a really nice friend named Heather who seemed pretty innocuous at first, then she showed up all skid-night prom queen and we knew we were sorrily mistaken. Here’s a nice one of her and Gay Rob deep throating a Redbull.

The Royal Society were seriously late for their time slot, so they had to go on at the end of the night instead. But it worked out cause the club was bumpin’. First show and they struck gold.

Barbi closed it down like a champ. But Barbi can do anything cause she’s like the best DJ in Toronto, and all you bitches know it.

A little drunk, ok a lot drunk, we stormed off to Fierce’s place for the after party. Which, friends is really just me doing a bit of tour math and the other girls blowing up an air mattress, but we try to sound like party monsters. Here’s a perfect example. This photo is totally innocent. Just reaching for a purse by the couch. But somehow, we manage to make it look grimy, slutty and slightly uncomfortable like an ass car crash you can’t stop staring at.

Worst sleep of my life later, and we’re off to Montreal, Royal Society and Barbi in tow. I rented a mini-van from Thrifty’s, but when we got to the counter, Abdul was already getting torn a new one by some guy who’s car they lost. They didn’t have ours either. After a woman-to-woman chat with the nice lady at the Hertz (no name tag or I’d give a shout out) next door, we got hooked up with a better deal on an Escalade instead.

And THAT is why a) I am the tour manager and b) women be running everyting!

I’ll leave you with this lovely pic of the whole crew (all but me of
course) pulled over at a McDonalds en route to La Belle Province.

For more photos check out party pics on our site, sharkvsbear, and Dose