April 5, 2008
Tour Blog: Milwaukee — Urban Renewal
Written by Margo Atwater on April 5, 2008 11:47 PM
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Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08
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I told myself I’d never post on this piece-of-shit blog again, but I have to let all you fans know who you’re dealing with.
Girth McDürchstein is a RAT FUCKING BASTARD.
We left for Milwaukee right after Rhinelander. Girth was excited to be back in what he called a “real city” (anybody who’s ever been to Milwaukee will dispute that, and I still can’t figure out why he thinks Milwaukee is a “real city,” but St. Louis is some podunk backwater), so he, Riffs, and Carl decided to have a “boys’ night out.” He left me, Lacey, and Mikey back at the motel. Despite being stuck in a motel room with two sexy ladies, Mikey was not happy. I guess it’s because one time he and Lacey fucked, and ever since then things have been weird between them. Or maybe it was the subtle implication that nobody thinks of him as a guy.
They were out all night the first night. Fine, whatever. Girth has done this before, and I trust him enough to know he wouldn’t do anything stupid, malicious, or illegal. I just waited patiently for the guys to come home. They did, reeking of grain alcohol and cheap perfume. When I started throwing around accusations, Girth insisted he only smelled like perfume because he accidentally fell asleep on Riffs’ lap, and Riffs started to lick his face. Plausible enough.
The next day, it was the same thing. Another “guys’ night out.” I decided to put my foot down.
“There is no way you’re going out without me!” I shouted.
“You want to come with?” Girth asked.
“No,” I said. “I want you to stay here.”
“Come on, you wouldn’t rather stay here and gossip with Lacey and Mikey? You guys could make a quilt or something.”
“Fuck you!” I roared.
“It’s been a long tour, baby,” Girth whined. “We’re just blowing off some steam.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t blow it off with me,” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “Gimme the credit card so I can go to the liquor store.”
“We don’t need booze to have a good time,” I said seductively.
“What, is Rockford on or something?”
That sort of killed the mood. After shouting a variety of descriptive obscenities at him, I allowed him to go out on his second guys’ night out.
Then it happened. The next morning, Lacey and I went to have coffee. I bought the morning Journal-Sentinel to keep up with world events, and on page 11…I saw it.
That motherfucker.
When we got back to the motel, Girth’s cell phone was on the floor. He’d left it all night, and I had put it on the dresser. This could have indicated a break-in, but when I took a look at the phone I saw 1 MISSED CALL / 1 NEW VOICEMAIL, so I knew it had just vibrated its way to the floor. Haven’t we all?
I checked the VoiceMail. It was Gil Pogue of the Guiding Light Community Youth Center. He had seen the newspaper, too. Another gig was canceled.
“Goddamn him!” I shrieked at Lacey. Mikey was still asleep, but by that time I think he was just pretending.
“I always knew something like this would happen,” Lacey muttered.
“Fuck him!” I yelled. “I’m going to rent a goddamn car and drive myself home.”
“Back to L.A.?” Lacey looked stunned.
“No,” I said. “To Kokomo.”
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