From Phuket, we flew to Jakarta and spent a day with my friends from back in the Myspace days, Kiki and Onnie (actually it could have been Friendster, but we were all hesitant to date ourselves too much). They took us around Jakarta, to a great resto and the old part of town before we had to hop a flight to Bali. Jakarta is lovely; a bit like LA with all the driving and the shit transit system, but there really is tons of stuff to do. I felt like I could spend a week before I’d get bored enough to try something new.

At a great restaurant where we had the first really good meal of the trip.

These bikes were lined up all over the square in the old part of town. It was the hats that really killed it for us. Like everyone has a matching Anne of Green Gables hat to go with their raver coloured bikes.

We had rented a villa in Bali for 9 days back in the fall but decided to go early because we were told (false again) that Jakarta would be horrible. Oh well, live and learn right? So we booked a hotel in Seminyak, the swanker part of Bali for a couple days before moving to the villa.

After a full day by the pool, it started to rain, so we decided to go shopping. Seminyak is the posher part of Bali, just north of Kuta, which is the nicest part of the beach and the most touristy area in Bali. We walked up to Potato Head, which is a hotel and restaurant on the beach that Kiki and Onnie recommended.

There are these lovely gates to the beach everywhere in Bali. In fact, because it’s a Hindi island (predominantly), they dress up the entrance to everything: homes, shops, temples, beaches, everything. There’s a real attention to detail in Indonesia that Thailand just didn’t have.

Everyone comes to the beach for sunset. Waiters just off their day shift, tourists, surfers in from a day in the waves. Indo’s and foreigners all gather to watch a glorious sunset (this one was on Kuta beach).

We met up with Fun Bobby at Legian beach (just north of the craziness that is Kuta) on his last day before flying to Sydney and then making the long trek back to Toronto. I have to admit, that since seeing him last on Koh Samui, Bobby’s plan to get more tanned and thus make friends jealous with his “more oil” technique really worked. He was full on massively tanned.

This picture doesn’t really do it justice, but there’s this one road in Seminyak that has like a dozen Ladyboy clubs next to each other that blare competing Euro-house at earsplitting volumes with nara a bass field in sight. It’s less than a half a city block and the ladies pour into the street on all sides. Unlike Thailand, the gay scene in Seminyak is a lot less trashy (well outside of Bangkok at least). It was a lot more international and less about prostitution and the drag shows were great.

Since it reminded us of Church St. during Pride, we decided to get falafels and post up in the midst of it all and gaze at the lady’s in wigs.

Initially we were supposed to stay in a guest house in Kuta, but the owner had sold it a few months before, so they put us in their 3 bedroom villa in Uluwatu instead. This is the only photo I took of the villa (it’s the view from the car park when you enter). It was lovely to finally have a kitchen of our own, a scooter and a cell phone and we promptly went to the Pepito Express (the Puseteri’s of Bali) and stocked up on groceries.

On the first day at the villa, we didn’t have a scooter yet, cause it was really scary riding them in Thailand and Sam was hesitant to get another. SO, we decided to check things out on foot. After a lovely breakfast at a Thai place (note, the Thai food in Bali was a lot better than the Thai food in Thailand), we hit up Padang Padang beach (they pronounce it more like Padung Padung, like Badunkadunk). This is the entrance, and the staircase cut from the rock that leads down, almost 90 degrees to the beautiful beach below.

Wait, did I mention we did a spa day with massage, hair treatment, body scrub and bath?

Did I also mention that they gave us paper panties to wear and that we were int he same room for the whole thing?

Or how about, that after our body scrub and massage (which was more like touching than a real massage), we were given robes and towels to shower off and take a bath…together? Sam and I decided that it was clearly now our honeymoon, and we should just make the best of it. Luckily the petals in the tub made the whole experience of bathing together less awkward.

After several days of lounging on the beach where I worked on my tan and blew through another couple books and Sam took some surfing lessons, we decided to take the scooter to Ubud, the art capitol, for the day.

There were lots of temples along the way and when we got there. Hindu’s put flowers in the ears of the statues of gods guarding the temples, and they also put them behind their own ears. It’s so crazy cute to see men driving their mopeds with the dried flowers still behind their ears at midday. Everything in Bali was about beauty. It was hard not to be appreciative of nature and everything that the universe has to offer when you’re surrounded by so many people who are appreciating life every day.

And then there was the monkey’s! Ubud isn’t really a town, it’s a collection of a bunch of villages with the market as the centre. One of the villages, is Monkey village, and in the middle of it there’s a nature preserve park filled with about 600 macaque monkeys. They are a sacred animal in Bali and you can walk among them and feed them bananas if you like.

We met a local guy who took us through the park and showed us all the monkeys and their different groups and helped us interact with them so we wouldn’t get our faces ripped off.

yeah we did!

Other highlights from Ubud are: lots of vegetarian restaurants and yoga retreats and one beautiful street after another with shops selling all kinds of art and hand made crafts. It’s worth a look for at least a day, if not a full week.

Back in Uluwatu, the southern point of Bali, we watched one of the most beautiful sunsets in the world from Single Fin, a surfer bar in the cliff. The food was meh, but having a beer and watching the most beautiful sunset after a perfect day in Ubud was really really breath-taking. Except for the fact that we picked up this weirdo Russian guy with no money and no clothes and no where to stay. Sounded like a hospitable thing to do when we invited him, turned into a rant about how to make bombs while we were trying to listen to Bob Marley covers on the beach.

One cool thing though is that when the sun goes down, you can see Venus and Saturn’s light next to the moon in the dusk sky. So gorgeous. The stars in Bali are like a thick blanket that seems so close, it’s like you can reach up and touch it.

The beach at Uluwatu (or Suluban it’s original name) is hard to explain without pictures. It’s a 90 degree drop down a series of stone stair cases cut from the clif to one of the best surf spots in Bali, and one that’s known around the world. When the tide is in, there’s no real beach to sit on, but you still enter from within this cool cave. There’s the most unsafe wooden stair cases between the cliffs that lead to variously over priced restaurants with stunning look out point views of the ocean below. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

Honorable mentions: The night we went to La Barca (a sort of pirate ship beach bar) for a monthly party they have. It was really awesome, lots of locals and ex pats and tourists. People of all ages and all walks of life, and the DJ wasn’t half bad, playing mostly deep house and some mid-90s throwbacks. Leaving our villa after they kept shuffling us around and kinda squeezing us out. The conversation culminated with the owner screaming at me on the phone then hanging up. We forgave him for being American and kept in touch with the Balinese staff who were lovely that they employed…and we checked into a hotel in Seminyak for the remaining days that we got refunded.

On a final note, Bali was amazing. I could have easily stayed there for a few months without getting bored. It wasn’t too crazy of a party, there wasn’t a horrible backpacking culture that overtook everything and the food and people were out of this world. If you ever get a chance, go. Don’t hesitate for one second!

Here’s the thing about Thailand so far: if you pay what’s considered a lot of money, you get a place with a cold shower and a non-functional toilet and maybe an air conditioner. If you get a shitty bungalow, you pay nothing and get a cold shower, a non-functional toilet and a fan. We chose the fan.

Having found a perfectly good room for a murder scene in a movie, we went to the beach. Given our misadventures with tourist food thus far, we were a bit speculative about where to eat, but luckily we found a place where they cooked up a lovely fish and tofu stifry for us.

Since we were still recovering from the cleanse, our stomachs were really wonky (read: sharting was a serious, and very real concern), and I suggested we have a beer since that always settles my stomach.

Queue the reggae bar. Having listened to nothing but horrible Euro beats at every turn thus far, a bar on the beach that played old school hip hop and reggae was a welcome reprieve. We made friends with the manager (since it was becoming clear that we were never going to make friends with any tourists, try as we might) and we broke the cleanse by getting a little something I like to call shit-faced.

Being that we were in fine form, we decided it was time for some bamboo tattoos.

Those are the faces of two responsible adults right there-the crazy eyed Thai behind us is Chalee (no “r’s” in Thai) who became one of our besties after this.

After looking through some books and at pictures of previous “sober” people who’d be inked by Chalee and his band of tattoo artists, we decided it was time to saddle up and get it done.

(picture of another happy customer at the tattoo place)

Sam chose some lovely Thai designs for both her feet, which were created from a dozen pictures of designs (this was soooo easy to communicate to a bunch of drunk Thai tattooists) and I chose T.S. Elliot, as translated by Nomsky, the manager of the reggae bar who translated for me in exchange for a Heineken.

Sam, enjoying a complimentary beverage while Kop started her feet.

Bamboo tattoos are lovely. Easy. We both fell asleep (i use that term loosely since we’d consumed enough booze to blind ourselves) getting them done.

In English it says, “I could have been a pair or ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas”. In Thai it says, “i went through a hard time, but I came out on the other side, happy.” Explaining “ragged” was particularly fun.

The next night we decided to repeat the first, and Sam got some more work done. Plus we ate bbq with the boys from the shop (all names below) and bought them a bottle of Hong Thong (Thai whiskey) all before we could even start the process of talking about the other foot. It’s a long drawn out process to get a tattoo on Koh Tao, and it seems like no one will touch you till they’re at least a mickey of Hong Thong deep.

Yut. The man who did the third session nights later to finish Sam’s feet.

Chalee the shops owner and man you pay for everything.

Kop, the original artist for her feet and the hottie we both flirted with constantly.

Now. The tattoo shop mascot, owned by the guy who did my tattoo, who’s photo I never actually took for some odd reason.

We had booked a snorkeling trip for the next morning, and finally got to bed around 3, only to awake 4 hours later, woof down some fruit and toast and get on the boat.

No one was feeling particularly fresh, but we were wise-cracking the whole time. Even when the waters got really choppy and we clung to the back of the boat with the other pukers. Even when I broke the barf seal and went (in nothing but a bikini) into the boat’s bathroom and re-visited a lot of pineapple and toast. Even when I threw open the door and exclaimed to my green-faced brethern “I just barfed my guts out and I feel amazing!” Even when Sam thought she was going to die, and actually did more than one deed in the bathroom at once whislt wishing she was dead. Even after I forced her into the water on two more stops till she sobered up. We joked all the way through that to the other side, where we quite enjoyed the day.

We vowed that day that we would not be drinking ever again. Ever.

Sam smuggled half the damn beach worth of coral reef (dead stuff washed ashore though people) back to the boat in her bikini from the best of the three spots we snorkeled at before hitting the National park and reserve (it was something like Nan-Gwan)

Also, I conquered a long-standing fear of water. So all in all, it was a win of a day.

Later that night, after having checked my email and showered and changed into my promenade outfit (American Apparel tri-blend pants and fuzzy slipper with bananas on the toes), I was surprised to find Sam at the Tattoo shop, eating bbq chicken (she’s a devout vegetarian) on the porch, and gasp! Drinking HONG THONG!

Look at that sly smile! After all our promises to never drink again. After the revisiting of all that pineapple. There was nothing to do but join in myself.

Sam was going to sit for her last two hours and get this tattoo finished if she had to sacrifice her liver to get there.

And sacrifice she did.

Feeling in the mood myself, I sat outside with Yut and smoked the shisha and treated myself to some fancy Heineken’s

then I did something that only a brilliant person does: I tattoo’d my hand. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I had a heart tattoo’d on my hand with Anna Cyzon (in the same respectable state) years ago, then fixed, then fixed in Japan for a final time, then I had it half removed last winter. And now friends, I have that same damn heart, albeit much lighter and Bamboo tattoo’d this time, back in my hand. I can only tell you that the next morning I was very proud of myself for getting that tattoo yet again.

Some other highlights of Koh Tao include the night Sam disappeared till 5am (but not drinking) with the shop guys, a gorgeous restaurant owned by locals and hidden between two huge rocks on the beach, the day we walked to Crystal Beach and went snorkeling, and the final boat ride, we were happy to take back to the land of sanity…Koh Samui.

This guy was from Toronto believe it or not. Represent.

Even though you can go into the ocean the day after a bamboo tattoo, they tell you not to use soap for 4 days. If you’ve been living in the tattoo shop for three days and sat for 6 hours of tattoos, they tell you to wrap them when you have your flip flops on. Incidentally, every third person on Koh Tao was bandaged up from motor bike accidents and burns from jump rope (example in vid below), they call those bandages a “Koh Tao Tattoo”, we found it funny that Sam kinda got just that.

Here’s the finished product. Totally worth 3 bottles of hong thong, three nights of shisha, barfing up your guts, eating meat and riding with maniacs on the backs of scooters like a bat out of hell at all hours of the night/morning. They’re gorgeous.

Did I mention you can’t put toilet paper in the toilets in Thailand? Did I also mention that they usually don’t have toilet paper at all in the bathroom? Did I mention that there certainly was no toilet paper in the bathroom of the boat we almost died on?

Consider it explained on this wall.

Secret resto that we loved on the beach.

Sam mid-nap, in the mid-afternoon at the lunch table. When I shook her toe to wake her she drooled all over herself and got defensive all “what did you do to me?” fits of giggles ensued.

Did I mention our bungalow was at the end of the darkest alley on Koh Tao? we named it, “rape alley” and gave people directions using that name. I also left the door open by accident whence bathroom-ing and Sam thought it would make a lovely picture for her folks.

Coconuts on the swing at Crystal Beach

View from the swing.

Back in Koh Samui, we went for dinner with our friend Nicola and her brother, Dave, back at the organic/raw food resto before making the trek to Phuket to fly to Jakarta. Our ticket said 12AM departure. The ticket was wrong. Thankfully the motocycle taxi drivers stuck with us and found us a nice room at a hotel near the boat and we got up and started the voyage the next day.

But first we found this beautiful shisha bar and resto owned by a French expat and his stunning Thai girlfriend that spanned several levels of a cliff in Kho Samui. Sam had a fruit juice, I chose beer. We were freshly showered (first hot one in a week) and chilled out before the journey.

Bye bye Thailand, and hello Indonesia!

As promised, here’s that video.

It was a pretty uneventful week, filled with healing and reading and boredom and laughs, and maybe one Ladyboy cabaret (read: drag show), but mostly it was like getting a big lovely hug.

This is where we took Yoga every day. In the trees.

Here’s some just to make you feel bad that it’s winter there, and like this here, and all I seem to do is bitch about the food (le sigh).

After three days of juicing and learning about Colema’s and all the nasty toxins we were getting out of our bodies, we came home to find these two buckets on our porch. With. Our. Names. On. Them.

I’ll let Bobby demonstrate how to put it together (we did this ourselves in the bathroom at the cabin)

First you hang the bucket over the sink and fill it with luke warm water. 16 fucking litres of that mixed with 3 cups of coffee.

slide this thingamajigger over the toilet to lie on

looks comfy right?

then you take all that lube, shove the tube in your ass and the affix a hose at the other end and lie there while 16 litres of water and coffee gets pumped through your colon. Bobby made it almost the whole way on the first try, Sam made it through no problems, but not me. Somehow I managed to unload 8 litres of that liquid in my ass and it wouldn’t come out. I looked like a pregnant, bloated lady, not to mention there was a serious 10 minute panic when i realized my body wasn’t “letting go”, followed by blinding cramps. Turns out I’m both the best at Colema’s (as you are supposed to hold that shit in, no pun intended) and the worst (because I thought I was dying the whole time).

Bobby was very happy we invited him on this lovely journey (he went out to the ladyboys that night and chugged beer till he forgot about the self-administered ass-rape his friends talked him into).

As I’m sure Bobby is as dark as an old leather boot now, I just wanted to post a pic of him the first day he moved from block to oil on the beach.

here we are on the final day. me= about to go for a run (the last one i had in thailand) and Bobby, about to get the fuck out of that place for good.

Also, my friend and spiritual coach, Nicola, showed up after a few months teaching in India to unwind and detox on Samui for a month before going back. this was taken the day before we left and incidentally, also the day before her appendix almost burst and she ended up in the Samui hospital (a 5 star hotel by comparison to ours) to have it removed. We saw her again the day she got out after Koh Tao, drugged up, but happy that it happened in Thailand and not India. Bullet, dodged.

Here’s what I’ve found so far: Thailand is EXACTLY like Mexico. It’s very very touristy, but there are lovely parts if you work really fucking hard to get off the beaten path, it’s cheaper than home, but not as inexpensive as people pretend it is, at least not for the quality (get what I’m saying here), and it’s very pretty if you can somehow tune out the poverty, the prostitution and the garbage.

Bangkok

My hate-on for Bangkok is my own damn fault. I was way too free with listening to advice before leaving home on where to stay and what to see and frankly, just plain lazy in looking that shit up for myself. I learned: Bangkok is full of tourists a la Manhattan or Acapulco, and everyone suggests more touristy places to go when you ask to leave the tourist spots. It’s not as cheap as people would have you believe and the food is on par with a MSG infused food court at the mall. 2.5 days and $600 Canadian dollars later, we managed to see most of the city, and form a map (much like the map of the States where all the red states represent where you can marry your sister and the blue ones where gay marriage is legal) in our minds of where not to go. We’re gonna give it another shot on the way home and see if we can tame that sucker.

Here’s a pic of the pond in the middle of our hotel near Khao San Road. It’s like being near Yonge St and the Sky Dome on banger and suburban day rolled together. It’s also off the subway line. We’re dumb and stayed where everyone told us to. The pond was the only thing we liked about our hotel. Gaze upon it for yourself.

After about a half day of Koh San, Siam, MBK Mall and other bullshit people said would be good, we went to a fight. Can’t go wrong with a Muay Thai fight right?

This is where the pimp sits. he’s so fly, he needs a sign to keep the ladies off. We were the only two women who weren’t one half of a couple (clearly dragged there by their men) or part of the badass group of Thai Chola’s I met in the bathroom smoking cigarettes and hair-spraying their bangs. I so wish I had the guts to get a photo of them in their matching silk member-only jackets.

The fights were decent. Definitely slow moving and could have used some help on the event side of things, but the fighters were actually good and it was the most entertaining thing we’d seen all day, even if we mistakenly picked the touristy ring-side seats instead of going in the pen with the Thai bookies who went ape shit taking bets during the bouts. Betting on kids, coulda been me. Le sigh.

Bangkok, much like touristy cites in Mexico, is filled with assholes trying to make a buck from you. Here’s a tip: taxi’s are as cheap as the subway, tuk tuk’s, although more fun, are way more expensive. Walking is not an option.

This is Sam in our VIP tuk tuk after we decided to get drunk to deal with Bangkok.

A tuk yuk is a scooter with a metal coffin/cage roof thing built on it. You can see out the sides cause there are none, and you have to haggle with jerks who give better deals to guys. This particular one had a decent sound system that he was pumpin the worst Euro-trash beats you’ve ever heard in your life.

After a mediocre Thai dinner (although the best one we had in Bangkok), we ventured out to see the Ladyboys and Japanese tourists briefly. They were okay. There were definitely more beautiful tannies in Thailand than there are in Toronto, BUT there’s lots of ug-mo’s too, and we didn’t see anyone we couldn’t spot from a mile away. To all my guy friends who raved about the Ladyboys to me: I know you all banged trannies when you were in Thailand, and that’s totally okay, but why don’t you spread some of that money love back home a bit? There are plenty of stunners I can introduce you to at home. Rave about them.

For what it’s worth, I didn’t have to look for the gay strip, I just naturally found it through my well-honed gay Spidey sense. We didn’t stay long because it’s loud and the boys who “lure” you inside are really really aggressive for boys in Daisy-dukes and knee socks. We kept getting grabbed, so we left. Plus, the music is just a mix Euro-trash mid-90s house mixes that compete with each other at ear splitting volumes, till all you can hear is red-lining.

I’m not gonna lie, I kinda like the “Fish Foot Massage”. It was gross and weird and all kinds of “ewww” but best of all, two wasted Japanese guys brought their “dates” with them to try it and I saw one of their vaginas full-on when she sat across from me in the fish tub and I gotta say, she has a really good surgeon. One of the nicest Vag’s i’ve ever seen (yeah, I just capitalized ‘Vag’).

Koh Samui

In case someone told you the flights in Thailand are cheap, they exaggerated. Sure it’s not Toronto-Van prices, but it was just over $100 for us to fly one way to Koh Samui, which, last time I checked, is the same price as one way to Montreal or New York and the flights about the same distance/time. Just don’t want you to think you can zip around like it’s sooooo cheap, cause that shit adds the fuck up quick.

We stayed in Lamai, which is the less touristy part of Koh Samui (read: there is no Starbucks like there is in Cheweng up the beach). It’s a strange mix of great detox spas and aging white (German, Dutch, Russian) men and their 20 year old Thai girlfriends who act inappropriately at almost every turn. Not so much a night life spot, but there’s still Italian food on every single menu. So if you like spaghetti bolognese, then Thailand is the place for you!

This is just some fish I liked in a tank at the airport.

On the first night, we checked into a really lovely villa off the beaten track with two floors and a living room/kitchen (by kitchen I mean there was a fridge and a massive tea pot that we used to boil eggs in). On the first night I battled a thousand mosquitos in my sleep and woke up with pizza face mosquito bites that, lucky for me, were not exclusive to my face, but covered my arms and back. If you squint, you can see it all over my pasty winter ass in the pic above.

It rained the first couple of days so we just walked up the coast to see where  all the swank hotels were. This one was the best. Had a private beach and that “Sleeping With The Enemy” feel from every turn. Dark and stormy and gorgeous. We also stole their umbrella pretending to be guests. But that Karma came back and bit us pretty quick when they tried to charge us 300 baht for driving us less than a city block. After Bangkok, I was super skilled in the ways of “oh hell, fuck no” and haggled them down to a fraction after speaking with the guy’s “boss” on his fake-Nokia cell phone.

Day 2, and we rented a scooter to go to Big Buddha, but we immediately took a wrong turn and ended up at a nice little town called “Hin Ta”. What’s it famous for? A rock shaped like a dick and a whole helluva lot of other rocks that look like bums and Vag’s. We saw a lot of monks there. I tried to get their photos with the penis-rock in the background, but they could smell the joke coming and evaded our flashes like the swift-footed ninjas you’d expect monks to be.

Needless to say, we bought a lot of postcards from there.

We made it to Big Buddha in time to get this snap with a giant predator statue made out of car parts.

And the Big Buddha. We didn’t find a beach or anywhere good to eat, but the scooter ride was fun, although terrifying for Sam who had several panic attacks after almost killing us a couple of times and from what can only be described as “turns” on the scooter. Yes, turns.

We did take the scooter out a second time to check out the Waterfall 2 (that’s the real fucking name) and Sam was a lot more relaxed on the scooter, zero heart attacks, and zero almost-crashes, twice the turns.

I put that guy and his man-kini in the pic on purpose. I think he adds some flavor to an otherwise boring photo of nature’s perfection.

And here’s me being slightly chubby, but hidden by the water so that you are too distracted by my ample rack to notice.

I had a nap or a Facebook session, or something that took me out of the game for a couple of hours, and when I came out of the room Sam was drunk and ready to go out. The time had come for us to find some Friday night fun.

We paid $15 for these drinks. that’s right, we’re dumb. Pina Coladas on the beach in bean bag chairs. There’s like 50 shots of booze in them, but that’s just code for sugar when you’re talking about Malibu.

We also finally tried a “bucket” which is the worst rum/whiskey you’ve ever had mixed with Fanta. I kid, you can get Coke, or “not sweet” like I had which was bar lime and soda.

Looking back now, it must be the brown straws that make it so crisp, refreshing and desirable.

Did I mention that we drank the buckets at a mini-rave on the beach where men threw buckets filled with tar that was lit on fire around in circles till it almost set the spectators a flame?

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Just in case you forgot the name of the bar, they spelled it out in fire for you as a finale. Very smart marketing.

These are some Russian girls we met, and smoke shisha with. then we went to a Karaoke bar that smelled like moth balls and didn’t have the song I wanted and they gave us the slip. Apparently Karaoke was not their thing. then some British guys tried to take us to a vile, outdoor strip bar that was really a place where underage Thai girls get super glassy-eyed high so they can act “sexy” for tourists by gyrating around in children sized clothing in the least sexiest manner possible for aging, fat tourists in fast glasses. That was when we called it a night and walked home. Before 2am.

So many people just don’t know what the hell they’re doing when they pack. What do you need three pairs of heels for on vacation? There is a real art form to packing light, and like many skills, it take a life time to perfect. Hell, even as I write this, I’m questioning whether or not I should have brought that ONE hoody, even though I know I’ll need it on the plane right home. And i’m pretty sure I brought too much underwear, which is a tough call when you’re still back in long johns land and can barely wrap your head around the concept of “bikini day and night”.

Here’s my tips to packing light to help you on the way and a list of what I brought to Thailand + Bali for 5 weeks. Also, shouts out to American Apparel for providing this saucy wardrobe.

Never pack:

-high heels, dvds, any more than 1 pair of sunglasses, anything really expensive, anything sentimental, or anything you can buy on the other side.  for example, I never bring toothpaste or toothbrushes or any toiletries that I can buy at a pharmacy cause they add up in your bag and that shit always explodes and ruins something. Why lug it to a foreign country just to clean it out of your makeup bag?

Do pack:

-books/magazines (that you’re willing to leave behind), and ipod, bathing suit, good pair or sunglasses, condoms and advil-two things that are better to have and not need then to need and not have, one decent pair of shoes (like Vans) you can wear in the jungle/at the beach.

Technique:

First, think about what you’re gonna bring and make a list for a week before. Make sure you pack neutrals and separates that compliment each other so you can mix and match easily. Don’t throw all that shit in a bag, cause you’ll just keep filling the bag with stuff and you’re guaranteed to over pack that way. Lay it all out on your bed so you can take away that 4th white teeshirt when you realize you’re over-doing it. Also, you can’t bring any more than your bag will carry, so the smaller the bag, the less you’ll bring.

Here’s my list:

-two tank tops (one white, one coloured)

-2 pairs of shorts (one white, one coloured)

-one teeshirt (white)-you might need this if you burn your shoulders/chest on the first day and have to cover up on the second.

-one zip up/hoody

-3 bathing suits

-one pair of workout socks

-one pair of Vans (i bought flip flops here and I plan on leaving them behind)

-concealer/lipgloss/mascara/bobby pins and an elastic

-proactive (guuurl, I am not about to get acne up in this bitch for no one)

-sports bra + workout shorts and running shoes (but that’s cause I keep the fitness in check people)

-one pair of leggings

-one pair of light pajama pants

-a tank top with built in bra (doubles as yoga shirt and tankini)

-one bra

-four pairs underwear: one black, one white, one thong and a workout pair (i could have gotten by with two)

-one nice onsie to wear out at night

-light coat (i had to wear it for the plane and it doubles as a rain coat, but I might dump it anyway)

-a nice wrap: good as a scarf for the plane, but also doubles as a towel and a blanket for flee infested pillows

-a netting bathing suit cover tank dress thingy (haven’t even worn it yet)

I guarantee you’ll buy stuff. I’ve already bought 3 blouses and a Lil Wayne tank dress.

There’s other things too, like I brought and iPad and a Computer, and some chords to charge my shit, but for me those are essentials. I also have a smaller, over night bag that doubles as a beach back or a weekender and carry on. With 24 hours of flights to get here, I needed it.

This was the groovy ride I was given to accomplish my tasks.  It’s what would happen if a smart car and a mini cooper had baby.

The last few dates have been quite uneventful as far as touring goes, and especially for a Blondes tour.  I even contemplated eating some chicken wings listed on the menu after our gig at Fanshawe College – 6 suicide wings and if you could eat them all, you’d get your photo on the wall.  Didn’t do it.  I’m blonde, not crazy.

Unfortunately, due to unforeseeable circumstances beyond our control, our Windsor show was cancelled at the last minute.  And so, with nothing but an extra 12 hours of time on our hands, we spent the night in a movie theater with another favorite blonde, Ryan Gosling.

On our way to London (Ontario…people keep asking me when I got to the UK, so I feel I need to start making the geographical location a lot clearer), Lesley and I decided it was time for this tour to have a theme song.  You’ll need to stay tuned (ha – no pun intended) for that future hit song written on the 401.

Tomorrow is our last show, and then back to the left coast I go.  It’s been a blast, to say the least.  Time flies when you’re having fun and since blondes DO have more fun, it’s been double speed .

VANCOUVER

So we got into Van mad early and checked into our hotel, then went straight for Pho, which is the new A&W on this tour, then break for nap times (well, I went for an epic 10K run along the sea wall, which was so absolutely beautiful, I’d rank it up there with a single surprise orgasm in terms of awesome-ness). By 6:30PM, we were at Fortune setting up and loving their Halloween decor, zombie Biggie and Tupac anyone?

Then it was off to dinner with Red Bull’s Kenny Mac, who took the motely crew of loud ass women to some Cambodian spot that sounded like Poon Pen. Best chicken wings and soft shell crab ever. At dinner, Kate from Stinkmitt joined us. She regaled us all with witty one liners like “My womb is a tomb” and “if they peaches are ripe, I say pick” in reference to wearing the same undies two days a in a row. Also, Kate and Maren sang a lovely cover of “Last night a DJ saved my life” that went like this: “Last night a BJ saved my life…” And Kenny Mac snagged it as his ring tone. Since those girls can really sing, the whole restaurant heard. It was just another classy moment on Get Er Done.

At the show, Stinkmitt performed, which was nice. Also, I got a boner for a Karaoke room ON SITE at the club!

It wasn’t mad full but damn that sound system is lovely. Oh and Kate got caught on video stealing our rider. The girls were mad at first, but it’s kinda funny now isn’t it? Check the vid for yourself below.

Kate an hour before the crime was committed

WHISTLER

On Friday we enjoyed a rare moment called “late checkout” and were on the road by 1PM towards Whistler. Six of us piled into one room since we had no intention of actually staying the night, having to drive to Nelson 10 hours the next day anyway. Being that it was Halloween, we got in the spirit and got our costuming on. Jubilee and B.Traits were Wayne + Garth, and Bitchin’ recycled some dope Gnome costumes from Shambhala. Betti Forde was Ke$ha in another bad ass onsie (her closet is like one endless onsie train; the ride gets better the longer you stay on it), and I was a Tweety Bird (again cause my fucking Shocker costume got stuck in the States since the people at BuyCostumes.com have never rerouted a package and have shit for brains and sent it to my HOME ADDRESS in Toronto. Assholes). But I don’t have pictures of us, cause that’s just how the cookie crumbled.

NELSON

By 4am we were strapped into a car with a sober Mama Miche at the helm and flying towards Nelson. Not gonna lie, that drive was a bit rough considering I got deep into the Burt Reynolds hole with Dom the manager at Garfinkels the night before. Sobering up in a car is lovely. Just lovely.

We made it to the Hume Hotel, which is where Spirit Bar is located and after getting a good dose of Oso Negro, we passed out for a solid 4 hour nap.

The party in Nelson went off like a crack whore with a fresh welfare cheque. I gotta say, the whore quotient was pretty low in Nelson, which was really refreshing. It was almost like a Jim Henson movie, with people break dancing and flipping around on the dance floor and furniture. Costume wise, we had a Hamburgler (Jubilee), Unicorn Trainer (Mama Miche), Bunny (Kenzie Clarke), a Kingu Flying Bat (B.traits) and I was Prince. Yes, the purple one. Highlight: B.Trait’s dad came dressed as a younger version of himself and her mom stayed right to the end (she’s from Nelson originally).

Awesome Nelson Ladies!

The Soundcheck at the venue for the evening, The Pyramid Cabaret, was about as nice a surprise as our life saving Pho at a Vietnamese Restaurant in Saskatoon. The sound was money. When we headed out for dinner and found that we were going to be sharing the Thursday night crowd with another night hosted by new friends and Winnipeg/Guelph DJ heroes, Brock Goldngrams and Tim Co-op, we were a little worried. Turns out that Thursday was not our lucky strike, but we got to have some serious bonding with opening DJ, and all around rad chick, DJ Sw@t, got to meet Andy Samberg (or a reasonable facsimile), got to play “Name what that dude smells like”, and got to DJ some bumping tunes for those lucky kids who came to check us out. Roxy definitely got us through the night, playing some crazy ripping bass lines that kept them on the floor till 2:30. We kept our party super tight due to the impending 800km drive between Saskatoon and Winnipeg that we were to tackle in the am, but did manage to have one of the shots that was dubbed by Mama Miche especially for the tour: The Hand Job, or, Jamieson’s shaken on ice.

We were up early enough to take Roxy to Tim Hortons for her virgin run…..A coffee, some Canadian lingo, and a breakfast sanny saw her totally sorted and understanding why some Canadians need their Timmy’s like some people need crack. We piled in the car and headed out onto the plains, our new mascot, Sparkle-Eh the unicorn, seated comfortably on the dashboard. After falling in love with a wicked Baltimore DJ mix, Portage of the Prairies and their weird bikes, and the fact that we had discovered The Nothing from The Neverending Story, we were off and driving that Mazda 6 like a G6.

Putting autopilot on and resigning ourselves to the fact that we were in for an approx 10 hr drive we hit that highway like a bunch of pros. 7.5 hours motherfuckers. Saskatoon was waiting for us, and we were excited to all be there to play at Scratch (a personal favourite venue in Canada and home to the best host ever, Neil Malik.) Neil fed us amazing Indian tapas and the Gaff warmed up the room with his serious skills. When we hit the decks, a Red Bull fridge filled with Heineken, Red Bull, and a bottle of the Silent Bird (grey goose), had magically made its way onto the stage behind us…so we invented another tour drink :The Finger Bang….Vodka, Red Bull, and soda. Very interesting to request one of those from whoever is on making drinks duty…especially in a crowded and loud club…oh, and btw, we totally rocked Saskatoon…

Bitchin’ on opening with some Nu Disco jams, Roxy on second playing her “best set!”,(INSERT PICTURE 5 HERE) and Jubilee getting into it with her signature bass. The end of the night had Jubilee and Mama being a bunch of pot-heads as an homage to our friend DJ Ayres, many grammatically erroneous Twitter posts, and some attempts to cover INXS’s “I need you tonight” with a beer bottle ‘jug band’ accompaniment.

The first word out of everyone’s mouths the next morning was “PHO”, so we made our way to the gates of heaven, aka Vietnamese Restaurant. That place will bring you back from the clutches of bad feelings from the night before like nobodies business. We had fixed ourselves, and the days drive from Saskatoon to Edmonton was calling (and B.Traits was tweeting for us to get our asses in gear and get there so she could meet up with us) so on the road again we went. The drives through the prairies are sponsored by the numbers 1, 5, and 5, and the letters k, m, and /hr. Needless to say, we got to the hotel in a shorter amount of time than was originally calculated….suck it Google maps. Jubilee woke up just before we rolled into Edmonton as our friends gave us a full shout on their radio show,….going from full sleep to “WTF?!” was pretty amazing to witness.
The Edmonton show was awesome for having at least the rider set out in full force. The pros in all of us shone through, and we went to town on the sound systems in Temple/Brixx. Jubilee and B.Traits gave the basement a thorough bassy rinse out, and Bitchin’ and Roxy went 4/4 techy upstairs. We got to see a variety of past Get ‘er Done fans, Betti Forde’s friend Gerald, (such a doll), all the foosh/danksoul/treehouse peeps, and Colleen, our resident hottie and music nerd.

Things we’ve learned so far? Driving on straight highways without any music or cd’s because there is no ipod plug in sucks, Mazda’s are just Ferrari’s in disguise, PHO is the elixir of life and we will probably eat it ten times or more before the tour is finished, stuffed unicorns on the dash is better than a GPS, having a cigarette lighter adaptor to plug your chargers into in the car is essential when you are tweeting/texting obsessively trying to keep the drive boredom at bay, and Roxy Cottontail is an amazing addition to the Tour this time around, and we will all miss her as she’s finished her dates and has headed back to NYC.
Saskatoon is definitely in the lead for best show, but now we’re onto the west coast….where we almost lost our minds and livers last times. Let’s see what you got.

First thing’s first, we are NOT cut out for car rentals. For some reason this tour does not come equipped with licenses that go with credit cards. Those two things do not mix in the same wallet, so our friend Kitty offered to drive. She can’t park for shit, but girl can drive for 10 hours no problem. She doesn’t have a credit card (of course). But meh, we figured out some voodoo for the car rental spot and we were off to the races.

The first thing we had to do upon arriving in Montreal was wait for 2 whole hours while Roxy Cottontail cleared customs. Luckily the tiny old lady who worked at the Montreal Dep gave use these nifty beer sized paper bags and straws so we could drink in the open.

The show at The Blemont included locals: Mary Hell and Hatchmatik who DID NOT wear a dress as he had promised me, but luckily he’s grown this impressive black cookie duster mustache that he swears is all natural. All these DJs meant 45 minute sets to the god damned minute. The show wasn’t the fullest, but all the right people seemed to show up and we got pretty toasted and eased into the cluster fuck of the rest of the weekend nicely.

TORONTO

Toronto’s always the stress show for me. Hometown shows are quite possibly the devil incarnate. Somehow I managed to get 3 hours work in at my office, take a long hot bath AND get to the show at Mod Club just before doors to set up the club with banners and giveaways from Heineken, Puma, and Dose.ca. Roxy finally got to perform and threw her signature bunny stuff into the crowd. And Embrace gave us our rider in a cooler.

Honourable mentions: Lucie Tic tore up the balcony, a lot of our guy friend’s showed up really tanked for some reason, and somehow, someone got these two skinny ho dancers up on the stage just as Jubilee started her set. They looked like her dancers, but also, because of the height difference, she was eye-to-hoop with them.

Thankfully Gay Rob stepped in as our alterna-ho dancer. And all was right in the world once again.

OTTAWA

By the time we were en route to Ottawa, we were hanging by threads. Jubilee, and Star Eyes and possibly Riviera (still not totally crystal on this point) played an afterhours in a toaster oven the night before and I got scared to be alone on the train. It took us two hours JUST to leave Toronto cause the DVP was closed which was brutal. A few Timmy Ho’s and a lot of jokes about hooping later, and we were in Ottawa. The capitol of our great nation, and also where all lesbians move to start a family.

Let’s prende une moment to respect Star Eyes’ van outfit for the day.

Ottawa had potential to be a really really hairy night. The club was set up perfectly when I got there on banner patrol. Our cooler of beer was replaced with a proper booth, and the dance floor was rammed all night long. Once again, all the right people showed up and that made all the difference.

This tour has almost killed me already (when Kitty wasn’t trying to kill us in the van of course) and it’s just really damn hard to describe. Like how can I explain to you that hooping is such a huge trend that the BBC is even talking about master hoopers reaching new heights of ecstasy and how Star Eyes heard that right when she got in the car en route to butt-fuck Utah after not having slept all night, and how that made her entire life? Or how Rod Lee is the only thing that will save your soul on a 500 hour drive totally hung over in the pouring rain? Or that Tim Horton’s is set to buy a house from us after this, or that there is a certain gang-mentality that takes over when you get that many girls in a van together? I can’t.

All I can say is hold on to your livers girls, there’s 7 more dates to go!

Toronto Photos By: Al D, Rest by this hot mess

LIONESS take on America – DAY 1

We decided to leave Wednesday night to beat the border heat before our first American show in Philly. We ended up waiting four hours for our visas. We were planning to drive half way and ended up only in Williamsville at the Garden Place Hotel. We were starving from the wait and thankful to find a 24 hour Timmy Ho’s. The gold lions lead us to our room.

DAY 2 – Philly here we come!

We get up and ready ourselves for the 3-hour drive. Then the burning smell… I thought it was the smell of Philly in the summer, but as we pull into the Holiday Inn beside the stadium, the parking attendant informs us that our van is smoking. MF. Our show is in a few hours and we have enough gear for five people. We call the promoter for the show and explain what a great start to our trip this was. Thank the tour gods! Kung Fu Necktie had a cargo van. We load up the van and as we pull out onto the street we notice about fifteen cops and a tarp with a body under it, and a pool of blood surrounding it. I take back the thanks, South Philly, what? We made it, and the show was amazing! We stayed up late learning Philly slang and sayings. “If your v-neck is lower than your necklace, you’re a douche. And saying, “Blow you” when you disagree with someone.

DAY 3 – NO SLEEP TILL BROOKLYN

Nothing like going to bed at 5:30 and walking up at 7:30 to take the van in. We have a full day of waiting and hoping we’ll make it to New York. Steven the promoter from the show takes us to a great place for breakfast where Ian the dj from Night Train comes to meet us in the shitty limo. No mini bar, broken cassette tape, broken locks and no AC – what a sweet ride.

$850.00 later we have new brakes and we are on our way. Good-bye Philly, I will miss you and your kind souls and dead bodies. Hello Brooklyn, I love your free pours and four o’clock last call.

After the show there was a karaoke party. It as fun to watch people belt out Metallica and Jay-Z “In New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of…” I sang Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams.

Lioness Take Manhattan – DAY 4

Although eating 99-cent pizza & pretzel M&M’s seems like a good late night idea you end up having nightmares about being dragged under a red car and watching someone’s intestine’s turn into silk worms and pour from their stomach. Jeff had a strange dream too. It was about our friend Devon from YSP! And in the morning we found out he had recently stayed in the same room, in the same apartment. We talk about our visions over coffee and breakfast, then ventured into the lower east side. Hell yes!

DAY 5 – Welcome to Canada

QxBxR at Cake Shop was amazing! People danced and sang along, it was a great feeling inside. And now it was time to head back home. We stayed with the best cat. Stopped in Syracuse on the way back, crossed the border at midnight. And ended our epic 3 day American tour.

There’s more fun on the road coming. Stay tuned for the next round…

What you do need are friends – girls in the know.

I just jumped ship from Toronto to Finland to kick off the ArtStars* Odyssey, a world tour to uncover the 7 Unsolved Mysteries of the Art World for my web show.

And what mysteries there are – from basement galleries to underground comic scenes – Helsinki is the next Brooklyn and we were there to cover it all.

Should you ever find yourself in the land of the midnight sun (no jokes: it’s sun, all summer), these are the superwomen who saved our asses from tourist hell. They forever have our official ArtStars* Approval.

1. Hannaleena Heiska

Back when ArtStars* was in computer land in Toronto, Hannaleena was our best map sista. The Helsinki-based painter and music scene maverick was the best at filling us in on where to shop and all the best saunas. Props to the Heiska for being our first friend in Finland, for reaching out with a thousand links and veering away from the tacky and overplayed. Her next show is at Gallery Kalhama & Piippo Contemporary in September, where she is showcasing a new film featuring dancers, amusement parks and the Kallio art district.

2. Julia Wiræus

While reporting outside of Galleri Bergman, I had someone approach me – strange in the land of timid Finns. It was Julia. “Where are you from?” she asked, and we’ve been friends ever since. The print and broadcast journalist who is a film critic for Filmjournalen and a city culture reporter for YLE (sort of the CBC of Finland) gave us the who’s-who in clubland. Julia is originally from Uppsala, Sweden, but grew up speaking Finnish – about 5% of Swedes have Finnish as a mother tongue and 5% of Finns have Swedish as a mother tongue. Oh, let’s make out already.

3. Minna Parikka

This shoe designer and fashion world diva is well-versed in the runway world – she knows how to walk the walk, and it isn’t just the heels that have graced the pages of ELLE and Italian Vogue. A true business woman who checks her phone more than her hair, we took a ferry together from Helsinki to Suomenlinna Island for a picnic where she filled us in on her new spring/summer collection (shoes with hot lips, gloves with spill marks and little black dresses). She spent a chunk of time in London, Milan and Barcelona, having lived in London for school, so ask her to reminisce and nothing will stop her trot.

4. Erika Erre

She has draped an electronic toy dog in fresh lamb’s meat, poured out piles of sugar onto gallery floors and collects knives from flea markets – but art aside, Erika Erre, a master’s student at the Finnish Academy of Fine Arts in Helsinki and a member of an artist-run space called Oskasenkatu 11, is an art opening scenester who knows everyone. She swept me into her industrial Vallila district studio and stumbled with me into the Sinebrychoff park (a park which is informally a perpetual booze picnic after 7 p.m). By far the nicest person I met in Finland, her next show will be at Huuto Viiskulma this August. Watch out for more meat, sugar and urban interventions – in black hats.

5. 1-800-MOM

Everyone needs a mom away from home and Sari Pesonen, a communications and culture rep with the Embassy of Finland, deserves a Mother’s Day card for putting up with ArtStars*. This art maven gives the best hugs and rocks clogs like nobody’s business. She recommends the best art museums, the best martinis and refuses to pay cover at heavy metal festival after parties. Peek into her picnic basket and you’ll find sticks of reindeer, cranberry crackers and organic butter. Sari loves the drama of ArtStars* drama – and without drama – we’d be nothing at all.

*snap*

Paul and I just got back from touring Europe on Sunday and after having a couple days rest in our own beds we headed to Calgary on Wednesday (Canada Day) to play at Sled Island, which is a pretty awesome festival all over Calgary. With Sled Island you never really know what you’re going to get because they take over every single venue in the city – and some of them are a little…shitty.  But it doesn’t really matter because the kids come out and we’ve definitely played our fair share of dive bars. It’s kind of like coming home in a weird way.

While there is something romantic about flying across Canada, it goes out the window when you arrive and your gear isn’t there.  Yup, my keytar and synths and drum machines didn’t make it on our plane.  So after checking into the hotel (Hilton! Yes!) we walked around a bit and met up with some Calgary friends. But that’s the thing about touring – there’s always something in the back of your mind that you know you have to be worrying about.  No matter: we made our way to Tubby Dog, which is the best fucking hot dog joint we’ve ever been to (and sadly, we’ve been to a ton).

Air Canada told us they’d deliver our gear to our venue in a cab – assuming that it was really on the next flight out.  So we did as we were told and showed up on time to the venue, which was as suspected a hilariously divey basement bar. It was only hilarious, though, until we met our sound guy.  There’s a this really weird feeling that you get when you walk into a club and realize that the sound guy is insane. It’s like the whole purpose of your life has just been compromised and there’s nothing you can do about it.  You could be playing the hottest show of your life but if the sound guy is crazy, it just doesn’t matter. So when he walked up to us, angry for some reason and sounding like he hadn’t been out of the bar in 30 years, we started getting sketched out.  Here’s a picture of him (we wanted to protect his identity a little bit):

I think he’s trying to turn up the suck in this picture.  Anyways, the beautiful thing is that just in the middle of talking to him, I get a text from Matt Lederman – our touring sound guy – who out of the blue says that he’s coming to Calgary tonight! Turns out that he is doing sound for !!! (also known as chk chk chk) for our show together the next night and he was getting in early. So we beg Matt to save us from the luddite who is going to do our sound and he agrees, on the condition that we buy him some bourbon.  Seems fair. After that, we roll upstairs and wait until, like a vision from heaven, a cab rolls up with all of our gear inside.  Sweet, sweet relief.

The show was pretty amazing and there’s still, after all these years, something really special about hearing people sing your lyrics back to you.  We debuted some new material too, and there was so much love in the room that by the end of it we were on a serious high.  I did elbow a girl in the face by accident, but hugged her during a crowd charging session during the last song so I think we’re square.  The bar (Vern’s Tavern) was conducive to sweaty crowd participation and we definitely shared some sweat with our fans.  It was dirty and delightful.

It’s funny, before a show I always feel like there’s no way I’m going to be able to make it on stage.  I get crazy exhausted, like my body’s anticipating the energy that’s about to be expended, and I am 100% positive that I’m going to play the show and go straight to bed.  Never works like that though! As soon as we finish our shows all I want to do is party with Paul and whoever else is around. After the show at Vern’s, we owed Matt for saving our asses so we wanted to give him the best night of his life, which ended up being a hilarious house party featuring reams of home brew beer, tents in the backyard, and a really, really stupid jam session.  I was given a synth that had no notes on it and I contributed less than zero.  Did I mention we were really drunk? That might have had something to do with it. Anyways, Matt started to fall asleep around 5AM so we grabbed a cab back to the hotel and tried to get enough sleep to seize the day.  We had another show the next night, and because days that don’t include hours in a van are such a luxury on tour, we were intent on making the most of it.  Fingers crossed the hangover isn’t so bad…

Oh yeah – did we mention the amazing Canada Day fireworks?

But for now let’s flash back to our show in Cleveland, where we blew the power.

Yep.

Little old us. In fact, we blew it during our gentlest, least-rockingest song ever, Little Garcon. One second we were playing, the next, the PA was gone. We kinda looked at each other like “wtf guys,” but luckily, the fine people of Cleveland…

… were kind enough to sing along without microphones and help us through the end of the song, which was really cool. Either way, I’m pretty sure we’re the first band to blow the power by playing a song that has more handclaps and harmonica than it does distortion.

We also played the same night as Beach House, in the same venue. I got to see one song, which was great.

But more importantly we snagged their beer after they left.

And drank it while eating rice out of a glass. Classy!

We then moved on to Brooklyn (here you can see Aron of Young Rival (*http://www.myspace.com/youngrival*) rocking out in a room that appears to only have fireflies or christmas lights.

But the highlight of that show for me had to be when two girls leapt on stage in an attempt to give Luke a big old smooch. At least I think that’s what happened. Anyway, what followed was us ending the song we were playing, leaving the two girls kind of in an awkward situation where they were now just standing on stage with us with no music.

So, naturally, we made them stage dive by chanting DO IT DO IT until they did it. I’m pretty sure Steve swore at them. One girl did all right. The other, not so much. She kinda fell on her head. But that was the crowd’s fault, right? Right?! PLEASE BELIEVE ME! I hope she is alive.

The next night we played a crazy show in New York that ended with us being denied an encore by the venue’s curfew (gotta get those clubbers in to dance and puke on each other!) – however, we managed to plead our case and get one more song. We then went out to a bar and felt like real grown-up rock stars by shooting pool and drinking the night dry.

Then we ended our US trek in Allston, MA, where our friend Julia (owner, operator and ruler of fuckyeahbornruffians.tumblr.com came and was nice enough to take a picture with us.

You can see more of me in my embarrassing tank top here in this video from our show:

We ended our tour back home in Canada, with shows in Montreal:

Ottawa:

and finally, the big finale, in Peterborough:

That’s all for me – see you in the summer, as long as our homecoming party hasn’t destroyed the city.

ruffian mitch

Not the Calgary show itself. No no no. That show was a lot of fun (including the dance party after). There was a small incident however; one we’ve never encountered before, because our fans are usually (a.k.a. always) not the type to give us the finger, because hey, if you’re a fan of something, you generally don’t show your appreciation by giving that thing the finger. Unless if you’re a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin like me.

Anyway, here’s the full silly story:

We were about halfway through our set when Luke accidentally unplugged his guitar, thus cutting the sound out at a crucial moment in the song. He fixed it pretty quickly, but once the song was over, in a fit of self-rage, he threw a roundhouse kick at the microphone stand, which tumbled over into the crowd.

At the time I didn’t think anything had happened, but one guy took the brunt of the mic in the head apparently, and his friend (not him) took it personally, because that’s what bros are for, right bros?! From then on in, he kept pushing the mic stand back at Luke and into his face, as well as using some rude hand gestures that I can’t describe on here in fear of my mom reading this.

At one point I saw Andy (who is a man that I have never seen show even the slightest sign of genuine anger towards another person), pointing and shouting something at this guy. I didn’t know what was up, but I knew something was wrong if Andy, earth’s kindest soul, was shouting expletives into a dude’s face.

Then came the last song, when the guy pushed the mic stand completely over when everything BUT the vocals were supposed to drop out, thus bringing the song to a complete halt. At this point, I now knew what was going on and went over to yell swear words at this guy along with Andy for derailing what was a really fun set. He was taken out, we somehow pieced the song back together and finished.

Then I went outside before the encore to see if the guy was out there, and I beat him mercilessly with my bare hands.

Not really. I did that thing where your voice quivers and you make vague threats then leave. I’m a true badass!

I apologize for the lack of pictures in Calgary – I was completely derailed by that guy pushing the mic. Please accept this David Wilcox video that we watched before our show in Chicago and I hope you will forgive us: 

We then moved on to Saskatoon, where we had a great show at Amigo’s (you can check out some really sweet photos from the show here). Good thing that guy got some pictures because I sure as heck didn’t. Still rattled from Calgary I suppose.

From there we spent several hours in the van getting to Winnipeg.

We literally rushed to get there, loaded in, played almost immediately (to a really fun crowd)

Then had to leave almost immediately (after packing up the van from ON TOP OF OF THE VAN!

because of a long drive we had to do the next day. We were so delirious that I thought the road was covered in snakes. Turns out it’s just tar. Yep. Tar. We also hit a wolf or coyote driving through the night. It was both sad and 100% terrifying. We’re a bunch of fragile little boys.

We then played in Minneapolis at the Turf Club, which had a strange juxtaposition of back rooms (is that the right using of that word? I’m just trying to sound like an educated man.) One room looked like this:

While the other looked like this:

You can safely assume we spent more time in the cool room playing piano and taking psychedelic pictures than we did chilling in the murder basement.

During the show a girl jumped up on stage during Moose Bruce and tried playing Luke’s guitar, then just awkwardly climbed back down. It was pretty hilarious. To me. Not so much her.

Then it was off to Chicago, but first we hit up Daytrotter where we and Young Rival both recorded sessions that will go up sometime in the near future.

The drive from Minneapolis to Rock Island (Daytrotter) to Chicago was our longest trip of the tour (woke up at 6:15, arrived at venue around 8:00 I think), and it also may have been the biggest payoff in terms of stir craziness accumulated in the van and awesomeness generated at the show. If that makes any sense at all. All I mean is that we had a crazy fun show that was even more awesome because of how long we sat still in the van on our way there.

The pace of tour can definitely be jarring sometimes, in a way that’s more funny than anything really. You sit still for fourteen hours, then IMMEDIATELY rock out as hard as humanly possible, get drunk, go to bed. It’s like baseball. Sit still for a long time then run to first base as fast as your body will allow you. The only difference is that when you tour with us nerds, no one gets to first base. :(

I think I’ll leave on a high note. We’re all hanging out in the bar in Allston as people are coming in – should be a sweaty one tonight. Hoo boy.

ruffian mitch

There are seven fellers in our van because we’re travelling and playing with Young Rival, a rock and roll band from the rock and roll town of Hamilton (of the rock and roll province of Ontario).

So now is the time that you hum the Perfect Strangers theme song  in your head as I introduce every person in the van:

Luke – Guitar/Vocals (Born Ruffians)

Steve (“Mike Dakota”) – Drums (Born Ruffians)

Andy – Keys/Guitar (Born Ruffians)

John (“Demetri”) – Bass (Young Rival)

Aaron (“Dr. Edward Poon”) – Guitar/Vocals (Young Rival)

Noah (This is his sexy glamour shot that I took without his permission) – Drums (Young Rival)

And there are no known pictures of me, so in order to know what I look like, you’ll just have to combine Jack White, John Belushi and a modern incarnation of John Goodman’s Dan Conner in Roseanne – all comparisons I’ve received this tour. With the body of Usher.

We hit Victoria after four shows in the US that included confetti,

balloons, a failed marriage proposal on stage,

me smashing Luke over the head with my bass, about three broken bass strings, two shirtless men (one of which was the dude proposing), one pantsless man (for real) and we also played songs. We also discovered that men like to get naked to our music, but not women.

In Victoria we played with Mother Mother at this massive church.

The crowd was great and really receptive, but the highlight had to be when they all rose out of their seats and gradually danced up to the front of the stage during What To Say.

Right after the show, there was the after party (then after the party, we went to the hotel lobby) that Young Rival was playing. That night we discovered that even if no one knows they’re playing, Young Rival attract girls to their shows from all corners of the city. Their music is like some kind of conch shell that only babes can hear.

In Vancouver we returned to playing our own show, and it was maybe the wildest of the entire tour so far.

The place was crammed, people brought balloons again, I got blasted in the head with an empty can of PBR, Steve tore his shirt on the steel cage that surrounded the stage, and fans invaded the stage on our last song (before the encore even!) and they pretty much obliterated our gear. Between the steel cage and beer can to the head it was more like a pro wrestling show than an indie rock show, and THAT I can get into.

From there we spent two days driving, where we encountered this herd of wildlife.

Last night was Edmonton, yet another show that included balloons and sheer chaos.

There was no steel cage to climb, so it was back to being like a rock show again, which is okay too. At the end of our encore, my bass strap popped off and into the crowd. After the song I tried getting it back from a fan, which turned into a tug of war, which would’ve been embarrassing if I lost, because she was a small girl. But I won BECAUSE I AM A STRONG MAN.

We’re in Calgary right now getting ready to soundcheck. The sound guy just read us a short story over the PA. It was bizarre and pleasant all at the same time because he has the voice of a book-on-tape. Now he’s just naming cities and imperial measurements into the mic…

See you in five days!

Ruffian Mitch

End of the night at Amigo’s, Saskatoon. Great show, great food, great place.

We hit a brutal blizzard driving out of Saskatchewan towards Edmonton, wind gusts were up around 100km/h and there were a lot of highway closures all over the province. What is usually a five hour drive ended up taking about nine as we inched our way through the whiteout. This was the first glimpse of sun we had seen in hours, near the Westernmost point of the storm.

A herd of elk in Jasper National Park. Always nice to see the rockies again after crossing Canada, they mark the beginning of the final home stretch.

Tattoo salespeople in Prince George.

Our sold-out last show in at UNBC in Prince George.

We played an all-ages Easter Monday matinee show in Sault Ste. Marie. It was not the busiest show in the world, despite the nice weather.

An abandoned gas station somewhere along the highway. There’s a lot of boarded-up buildings along the Eastern shores of Lake Superior; a lot of them are seasonal places that open back up in the summer, but this one’s been rotting for ages. I love it.

Stephen at the helm driving through the Shield.

Devon and Sissy enjoying a Standard Lager before the show at the Royal Albert, Winnipeg.

Krista, Becky and Stevie from APTN do an interview in Winnipeg.

The Royal Albert Arms: one of our favorite venues on the planet!

Krista attempts to ignore the dick room at the Albert… IT IS FUTILE TO RESIST. It is truly amazing how many band rooms are covered in dicks all around the world, but this is definitely one of the best.

Becky, Krista and Sharlene Chiu from MTV doing a cooking show at Trevor (our manager) and Maude’s place in Toronto.

Henri Fabergé becomes a mic stand for Mac of Makeout Videotape, who opened the show at the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto and will be touring with us all the way back to Vancouver.

Kip from the Horseshoe is a great sound guy who we’ve had the pleasure of working with many times. It was great to come back after several years; probably one of the best shows we’ve ever played.

Lake break somewhere on Highway 17 during the long drive from Montreal to Sudbury where we were spending the night. Nice to be back in Canada after nearly a month in the US.

Enjoying a low-key Easter Sunday night off with our friends from Sudbury at the Townehouse. Had some great pizza next door at the Laughing Buddha earlier.

We love Ramone! He lets us crash at his place whenever we pass through Sudbury. Good dog.

Finally, I caught the only two younger people in the crowd. Alex from Duke of Swabia sat with me and reassured me that this was the right venue. A fellow Concordia University student like me, explained to me that “Blog Wars” is a nightclub battle between Montreal’s biggest entertainment blogs who are having a friendly “Ipod battle”, which reminds me of that famous rap battle scene from 8 mile, only with Ipod’s.

By 10:30 pm, the atmosphere changed drastically. What was once a decaying, mid-life crisis, middle-aged single’s gathering became a sanctuary for unground house, electro, techno and house dance music, full with vibrant youth and a rave-like atmosphere.

The Blogs that were competing: As Heard From Mars, Mess With The Best, Indecent Xposure, Saintwoods.com, Duke of Swabia, Goldzmine and 4MTL all came together to create the ultimate party playlist. It’s one blog against the other and the winner leaves Le Belmont with a better ego and sense of establishment as Montreal’s best entertainment collective blog.

Sandy, a dedicated fan to a few of these blogs thinks this is a “sick event for elecktro.” The atmosphere was vibing with tons of people like her, enjoying their free drink and the new Canadian energy drink Red-Rain. The blogs began the battle. Cheer after louder cheer, blog groups advanced or were dismissed by the crowd.

Eventually the finalists were 4MTL and Indecent Exposure. The MC, who had trouble the whole night trying to read and understand who the majority of shouts went out too, had both blogs have two showdown 20 sec overtime matches. Finally, after Le Belmont was erupted with wall-shaking screams, 4MTL emerged the winner.

Finally, a little bit after midnight, Harvard Bass began playing beats. Straight from California, Harvard Bass is an original DJ, but his base lines aren’t but they bring the “dub”. His remixes are pretty dupstep-like because they have a heavy feeling and go into that little dub- “wooops”, but at the same time the beats are very electro with a mix of techno. However, because the blog battles lasted so long and the technical set ups for these DJs took quite a bit of time, the alcohol started to wear off and the crowd was becoming rather lazy, like his Zombie-Nation remix. Unfortunetly, Harvard Bass didn’t expect their music to be the make-it or break-it for the vibe that night.

Next was Classixx (a Knee Socks Beat Cleavage fav) who play classical house music remixing songs from the 80s and 90s. They reminded me of an ex-girlfriend whom I dated who was a huge Indie fan. I loved their wildly popular Lisztomania remix by Phoenix. Unfortunately, this chill music did not slide well with much of the audience, because they were so vibed-out and detoxicated from Harvard Bass and the slow set up.

The night went by but the party just started with Drop The Lime. Those who stayed to see him were really in for a trip. Drop the Lime from Brooklyn, New York presenting the tropical, bossa nova freestyle genres was a true character. Drop the Lime was truly the best for last. He had spirit, which was badly needed towards the end of the night. The dance floor was emptying, but Drop The Lime put in his complete rave-power to get the audience involved and to get the rest of the audience smoking outside to come back in and party.

Though the night overall was a success, the bloggers got a chance to get known. The set up was way to slow, and for whatever reason, the crazy ravers didn’t show up. Maybe they weren’t invited on Facebook. For me, this was a first time experience and I think i replayed all these crazy beats in my dreams.

Words by: David Adelman

Photos by: Karel Chladek

European tours can be like Miroslaw Balka’s How it is, the current Turbine Hall installation at London’s Tate Modern.  Balka’s piece – a 4-story tall steel box with a ramp entrance – is evocative and complex.  Viewers are faced with a moment of indecision when staring into the pitch black space from the top of the ramp. Which is kinda how I felt before this tour, after some last minute organizational drama and a major portion of bullshit at home. But when in life are things ever completely stable? Fuckit. Once inside the box, viewers are subjected to partial sensory deprivation and an overwhelming sense of confusion and claustrophobia.

KRAKOW

During soundcheck in Krakow I blew up a bunch of gear. I thought I was using an appropriate adaptor/convertor…obviously not. A piece of advice for anyone planning a trip to Europe; be absolutely sure!

After the initial fear subsides, a certain comfort and camaraderie emerges. An impromptu micro-society forms as viewers begin reverting to their real-world roles. The chivalrous protect the elderly from over-caffeinated middle-schoolers; teenagers giggle in huddled packs, using smartphones as a light source and operating with a general sense of characteristic awkwardness; earnest twenty-somethings try to muscle the experience into some ongoing search for identity and meaning.

BERLIN

I took a few days off in Berlin for some downtime – it’s one of my favorite cities. It’d been a hectic few months leading up to this tour so I was really looking forward to some doners and techno, both Berlin essentials.  My friend Jon and I caught Detroit House Legend Omar S at Panorama Bar and he dropped the track below at 10am (peaktime in Berlin). What a fucking moment, it was like perfect techno synergy or something, we just about jumped one another…does Panorama bar make people gay?

As the viewer ventures further inside, there is a growing sense of anxiety with the realization that ‘no, this steel box does not go on forever,’ and ‘yes, I will probably walk face first into the back wall very soon.’ This is where the piece is most disorienting.

PARIS

I played my first gig in Paris on this tour and it was also my first time in the city. I had a few days to hang out and explore but felt like a total boob for having such shitty French. I hate not being able to communicate properly. The gig was cool though, I got to play at the famous Paris Social Club with DJ Zinc (the legend!), Riton, and the very cool Forma.T crew. I also Macgiver’d my socks in the hotel sink.

Once the viewer has walked into the (curiously soft) back wall, the reflex is to turn around and stare at the opening, which with the comparative glare of ambient light, is immediately comforting and surprising. Imagine drifting in the ocean on a lifeboat and finally seeing land…Yea, it’s kinda like that.

MANCHESTER

My last gig was in Manchester, which I’m convinced is one of the coolest cities in Europe. Everyone is great, the fashion sensibilities are very hip and yet unpretentious, their taste in music is impeccable, and sometimes there are sexy girls in tiger costumes loitering at afterparties. Can’t wait to get back.

Egyptrixx “Battle for North America” EP is out TODAY. buy 12” or Mp3 at Juno/Beatport