“Vince you got my crotch wet” said Hunter after Vince caused him to spill some peach drink on his pants.
We were in our hotel room, drinking peach drink mixed with Southern Comfort and desperately trying to get a band photo of us in bed that didn’t look like some homoerotic wet dream.
In the end we failed.
After the photo we headed off to Subway.
The Oshawa streets were packed.
Some say it was because of the car show but we all know the truth, the streets were abuzz because Cornwall’s favourite band, Cigar Hurt Babies, was playing with some randos known as Don’t Tell Sarah.
The food was good, and I enjoyed the sensation of having a foot long in my mouth.
After the grub we headed back and that’s when drummer Nick found himself in a battle of the minds with a religious preacher.
The preacher dude was in the middle of the bustling street, talking about how we’re all going to Hell if we don’t tuck our collared shirts into our pants like him.
For the guys in the band this was a long lost cause, we couldn’t afford collared shirts, but for Nick this irked him.
For you see, his great grandfather, Nicholas Downer (why his last name was different we’re still unsure) famously fought for untucked shirt liberties in this great country of ours and so Nick thought it was his duty to give it right back to the preacher.
Saying things like “Don’t Tell Sarah is the truth! Tonight at the Atria! Rock music is better than tucked in shirts! It’s the truth!”.
The boys broke out into laughter and the crowd around us started cracking up.
A woman nearby asked us who we were and lead singer, Hunter, just turned to her and replied “We’re goddamn rockstars”. He then proceeded to walk into a fire hydrant.
Another moment of Don’t Tell Sarah dumbassery to save the day.
We’ll tell more stories next week.
Until then. Keep it greasy losers.