This past weekend was nutty.

Thursday night was Pub 46 with Pushed, where I got Dennis so hammered (on the band tab!) that he had to leave his van at the bar, and be driven home. Good crowd, fun gig. Frank took me aside and asked if I would join the band full time, but I had to (respectfully) decline. My commitment to Quick Kill is absolute. (Just between you and me, I would've been insulted if they hadn't asked me to join. I know they have a new bassist stepping in after this coming weekend, but I also know I'm better than he is. After all, I learned their set in a few days, while he's taking three weeks to get up to speed. Plus, I'm just so friggin' handsome...)

Friday evening, my sis, her husband, and I took my Dad out to "Better Late Than Never Father's Day Dinner." We ended up at some Hibatchi-style Japanese place. Ugh. I just wanted a meal, not a floor show, with the flipping the knives around, and flinging zucchini bits at people, and whatnot. The food was good, though. I hardly ever get to "expand my culinary horizons" since I get to eat for free all the time at work.

It was good to hang out with my Pop and my sister. Since our schedules are so divergent, I hardly ever get to see them. The only problem was, the restaurant didn't serve any alcohol! What's filet mingnon without a good beer? Feh. Needless to say, by the time I drove home from my sister's house in Branchburg, I was ready to rock. What better location for Friday night inebriation than The Grasshopper Too? "None more better."

The 'Hopper was pretty much the usual scene. I got good and hammered with a few friends, and wove my way home. I wasn't in the mood to throw a Club Infartos party-I was beat, and jonesing to watch a bootleg Tom Waits DVD I had purchased earlier that day. I think I watched about ten minutes of it before I passed out. I woke up Saturday afternoon with the TV on, the lights on, and a glass of Turkey near my head. Wild Turkey is neither kid-tested, nor mother-approved as a breakfast (brunch?) drink.

I played The Pub again Saturday night with Pushed. A lighter crowd, due to the "holiday weekend," but we had a blast anyway. They really are a fun bunch of guys to jam with. They don't take the whole cover band thing too seriously.

I made it to The Grasshopper by 2am, just in time to get tackled by my pal, Joel. Literally tackled. Joel is a big fella, and he caught me unawares. We went down in a heap, breaking the Q.K.F. disc in my back pocket, and re-fucking up my shitty knee. I'm an old man. A whole bunch of my drinking buddies were there, so, of course, Club Infartos was our final destination.

Holy shit, the night was full of surprises. Without naming names, one person showed up in tears (I handled it), one guzzled the last of my Turkey, and ended up face down in my driveway (I handled it). Another person spilled beer all over some of my comic books (okay, I admit it-it was me). A bottle was dropped and broken on my patio, some cannoodling was perpetrated in my bathroom, strip poker made a brief (but memorable) appearance, backrubs were given and received, and then the last of the revelers were treated to eggs and sausage. Club Infartos rules.

I got about three hours of sleep. When I woke up, I was unable to find my pants (the mark of a successful party). I finally located them (upstairs, in the kitchen?!?) then headed (still drunk) to a block party in Wayne. Some guy who was at The Pub gig the previous night had hired Pushed on the spot to fill in for a cancellation. They paid us $400 to play for one hour! That's fucking beautiful! I was planning on rehydrating, since I had another gig that night at The Ringside, hosting the Open Mic Jam with Spunk and Chris from Frank's Warehouse. I was looking for the cooler full of soda when one of the block party people said "Are you in the band? The keg is right over there."

It would have been downright rude to dismiss that kind of hospitality.

A keg of Heinekin, and a keg of Yuengling (both probably incorrectly spelled-I don't give a fuck), fully iced, glistening in the noonday sun. Breathtaking.

Pushed played a great set-entertaining both young and old. I got paid, and headed to The Ringside. Drunk as hell.

That gig was a blast, as always. Once again, a lighter crowd, but everyone there was there to rock. Some guy there even recognized me from my days playing in Spare Change! Weird.

I got out of there around 1:30, so I decided to check out The Grasshopper. Of course, some friends were there, and many shots were consumed. I made my way home, passed out, and slept until 2pm. Upon waking, I realized I still had to clean up after the Club Infartos party. Fuck. Spent all day cleaning, then chilled out with a few drinks while watching the Invader Zim DVD I borrowed from my sister (thanks, sis!).

I just re-read this post and realized how fucking long it is. Damn. I'm a chatty bastard.

This Thursday is my last Pub 46 gig with Pushed. Friday and Saturday, we're playing at The Tropical Pub in Belmar! Todd from Quick Kill is letting me crash in his shore house near there, and Ms. Bungle is coming up to party with me! These will be my last two gigs with Pushed, and should prove to be epic, indeed. Stay tuned, sphincter-wrinkles...