Chicago feels like many footfalls ago.I think last night's talent was the most well rounded we've seen so far. Everyone belonged. Whoever placed 15th last night in Minneapolis probably would have made it to the second round in some of our other cities. Even Lord Rockington, who timed his jump about ten seconds too early (awkward!), could have placed fifth in, say, Boston. Of course he would then be promptly crushed by McNallica.
Git Some, our wildcard that placed fifth overall, did not miss his jump. And as the leap crescendoed he screeched a piercing "fuck Brian Oake!" Brian Oake, our celebrity judge from Cities 97, replied humbly, "The only person in this room who hates me more than you is me. Five-point-eight."
David Reed Roth gave an impressive performance, except for the moves he stole from Windhammer. Don't think our judges aren't hip to this shit.
Contestant New Tedgent, shredding to his (sort of) namesake's "Free for All," pulled out a move we haven't seen before: When "The magic's in my hands / When in doubt I whip it out / I got me a rock 'n' roll band," Tedgent whipped out his air dick. We see so much nudity in our line of work, and are so bummed out when the judges reward it with high scores, this classy air flash was just what was needed to bring some sophistication back to this thing of ours.
New Tedgent: whips it out with both hands
The overall talent was so good that two performers may have a right to think they deserved better: Sanjar the Destroyer, who can afford to smash his air guitar after every show, and Lost Heartbreaker, who pumped up the audience to its highest decibel, until . . .
—Mother effing Airsol materialized on stage. Former regional champion and total sweet pea Airsol sprayed us in round one with her well choreographed performance to Van Halen's "You Really Got Me." But she saved some gusto for a perfect six in the second round. Splits, jumps, slides, and a grand finale front flip. I had to trash my undies (again) immediately afterward.
Airsol's performance explodes Sanjar's eyeballs from his head.
Then Airsol changed out of her costume, became her not-so-mild-mannered Cami Phillippi alter ego, and threw a kick ass after party at her spot. As we were leaving in the wee hours she presented us with a care package: a weird y2k rocking chair, a frozen boca burger, a spatula, and battleship (as in, "you sunk my—"). Splendid night, Minneapolis. We thank you from the depths of our little black hearts, and promise to return all contraband to its rightful owner(s) in San Francisco.
Some weird shit has been happening on the bus so we're all on terror alert level maroon. The AC will only turn off if we remove the fuse and our driver suspects foul play. To make matters worse, all of our sweatshirts have gone missing. And this morning there was a bottle of Nightrain inside a pickle jar floating in the toilet. I'm confident this kind of stuff will end soon.
Tonight we're trying to bring a little air to Des Moines, and with any luck we can blow those storms up to Canada, then load these sandbags onto the bus and return them to the coast. Our parents told us to skip tonight's show. Our driver told us to skip tonight's show. Prove them wrong and come out to the House of Bricks tonight. 525 E. Grand Ave @ E. 5th.
Git Some, our wildcard that placed fifth overall, did not miss his jump. And as the leap crescendoed he screeched a piercing "fuck Brian Oake!" Brian Oake, our celebrity judge from Cities 97, replied humbly, "The only person in this room who hates me more than you is me. Five-point-eight."
David Reed Roth gave an impressive performance, except for the moves he stole from Windhammer. Don't think our judges aren't hip to this shit.
Contestant New Tedgent, shredding to his (sort of) namesake's "Free for All," pulled out a move we haven't seen before: When "The magic's in my hands / When in doubt I whip it out / I got me a rock 'n' roll band," Tedgent whipped out his air dick. We see so much nudity in our line of work, and are so bummed out when the judges reward it with high scores, this classy air flash was just what was needed to bring some sophistication back to this thing of ours.
New Tedgent: whips it out with both handsThe overall talent was so good that two performers may have a right to think they deserved better: Sanjar the Destroyer, who can afford to smash his air guitar after every show, and Lost Heartbreaker, who pumped up the audience to its highest decibel, until . . .
—Mother effing Airsol materialized on stage. Former regional champion and total sweet pea Airsol sprayed us in round one with her well choreographed performance to Van Halen's "You Really Got Me." But she saved some gusto for a perfect six in the second round. Splits, jumps, slides, and a grand finale front flip. I had to trash my undies (again) immediately afterward.
Airsol's performance explodes Sanjar's eyeballs from his head.Then Airsol changed out of her costume, became her not-so-mild-mannered Cami Phillippi alter ego, and threw a kick ass after party at her spot. As we were leaving in the wee hours she presented us with a care package: a weird y2k rocking chair, a frozen boca burger, a spatula, and battleship (as in, "you sunk my—"). Splendid night, Minneapolis. We thank you from the depths of our little black hearts, and promise to return all contraband to its rightful owner(s) in San Francisco.
Some weird shit has been happening on the bus so we're all on terror alert level maroon. The AC will only turn off if we remove the fuse and our driver suspects foul play. To make matters worse, all of our sweatshirts have gone missing. And this morning there was a bottle of Nightrain inside a pickle jar floating in the toilet. I'm confident this kind of stuff will end soon.
Tonight we're trying to bring a little air to Des Moines, and with any luck we can blow those storms up to Canada, then load these sandbags onto the bus and return them to the coast. Our parents told us to skip tonight's show. Our driver told us to skip tonight's show. Prove them wrong and come out to the House of Bricks tonight. 525 E. Grand Ave @ E. 5th.
Our man from Touchtunes has a small foot fetish. But sorry, ladies: he's spoken for.
Written by West Hays
