“Think of Laura but Laugh Don’t Cry”

Think of Laura

I know it’s been a while since I rapped at ya, but I’ve been busier than Grant at a home brewers convention.

I come to you in the dawn of a new year, fresh with memories of a 2011 filled with Cougar-hunting, a liver-killing tour through upper Iowa — thank you Boji Boji Boji – and the most financially successful band year ever; we’re ‘this’ close to achieving the much ballyhooed VH1 Pop-up Video status!

But I digress. My reason for laying down some mad font action on you isn’t necessarily related to the aforementioned successful 2011, but to reflect upon the departure of our good friend and second most feminine group member, Laura Van.

Before getting to the good stuff, let’s throw 1.21 gigawatts at this byatch and let the Flux Capacitor do its thang! “When this baby his 88 words-per-minute, you’re going to see some serious shit!”

We’ll take a look at a few seminal events / happenings / rituals and, at the end, I’d like you to leave your comments as to what your favorite Laura stories are:

AUDITION

The year was 2005 and I met Laura – then in her mid- to late teens, she confessed – as we were both recruited by self-described super group Dave and Joe Lover to join them in their band. Our tryouts were to be held in some hoity-toity neighborhood 190 miles from civilization. Having never sing/sang/sung, aside from a stint as alto-tenor in a high school production of “Ice Ice Baby, the story of Rob Van Winckle,” I was scared out of my mind. Laura, too, hadn’t been involved in many things music, aside from playing the sadomasochistic cheerleader for local S&M band, ‘Sexxxplosion’ – yes, a real band name. Laura made an immediate impact on the two brothers with her band gear. Instead of bringing a typical bass amp, one which would require a tag team approach to lifting, Laura brought with her an amplifier that couldn’t have been larger than a pack of Tic-tacs.

Laura and I were asked to audition along with Joe and Dave to the tunes of Hootie and the Blowfish and Peter Cetera; yeah, we knew right away this was the group for us. Laura, visibly nervous – and a precursor of what was to come for the next 6+ years – was having trouble with her digestive system and barely made it through the night with bouts of “touching cloth” or “head of the turtle.”

Long story short, we made it and the rest is history. Sort of.

The band would be called “The Subsidies” because apparently all the other good band names were taken. We spent the next four years perfecting our craft while touring the Midwest in venues ranging from depressing to somewhat depressing to not too bad to “we shouldn’t be playing here … we’re not worthy” awesome.

Each and every show it was me up front and Laura behind – literally and figuratively - to my left; your right.

“DOOOOSH”

As the only member of the band without large equipment – <insert joke here> – I made myself useful by spilling beverages on the other band members’ gear AND carrying Laura’s stack (stack = band term for heavy shit). Each show I would lift, drag, pull and kick Laura’s equipment from her car to the gig and on stage.

One eventful evening while playing at O’Gara’s in St. Paul, Laura and I came to blows. Well, verbal blows, but blows nevertheless. To get stuff off stage at O’Gara’s, you have to traverse a series of steep, non-up-to-code stairs that were used as extras in the ending scene of The Blair Witch Project. As I was want to do, I was going too fast and Laura, who was lifting the backend of the stack, stumbled, telling me to slow down. I – always the gentleman – replied to her with “Carry your own shit then.” You ever say something and before you’re finished saying it immediately regret it?

Well, Laura had the perfect comeback: “Doooosh,” she said while shaking her head in disgust over me.

This was really the first time I had seen this side of Laura and was one side I didn’t want to revisit. Luckily, like the two giddy school girls we were/are, we made up shortly after and were able to go back to spilling vitriol about Joe and his penchant for making us do things we didn’t want to do, like be successful.

“HIM, HE’S OK, BUT HER …. SHE’S HOT AS HELL”

It’s pretty obvious when watching us perform that Laura, aside from being a very talented bassist, serves as the band’s sole form of on-stage sex appeal (not counting the one time when Joe flat ironed his hair. Hot!).

It’s one thing for flocks of men (is it “flocks” or “cacophony”?) to drool over Laura, which they did each show (less so once she started dressing in corporate casual stage attire) but shortly into our tenure as Minnesota’s Best Cover Band it became evident that members of the female persuasion were equally into Laura, as well. This hit home one snowy night in Mankato.

Laura had an unusually large following this particular night. The men were crowding the stage in an attempt to let Laura know that she was more than welcomed to come back to their parents’ house for a little dry humping. Laura “loved” attention like this and did all she could to escape it on stage. I believe at one point of the adoration she crawled into Dave’s drum kit to play her bass.

We finished our set, got off stage and were immediately met with a gaggle of “fans” many of whom were looking to marry Laura and have as many as 3 kids. One person – an attractive woman in her 20s – in particular walked up to Laura and myself and let us know that while “he is ok,” she said about me, “but she is fuckin’ hot. I’d hook up with her.”

BATHROOM! I NEED A BATHROOM”

Laura has the digestive fortitude of a 2-month old child. One way – many pontificate – that Laura stays so slim is due to her having horrible bouts of diarrhea prior and during each show. This is a statistical fact. That is all. I am sorry. It seems her pre-show ritual is made up of getting the “loosey poopsies.”

“JUST PLAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING”

Some of us screw up on stage. Even Grant. Once.

When I make a mistake or forget the lyrics, I go with it and simply replace the proper lyrics with, well, improper ones. Big deal. Wanna fight about it? Example. The song “Pour Some Sugar On Me” has a stanza that is SUPPOSED to go as follows:

“Do you take sugar? One lump or two?” = Correct version

“Do you like peaches? One lump or two?” = Collin’s version

When Laura screws up, she shuts ‘er down. It’s over.

Laura’s first bass amp was equipped with a Knight Rider-like set of red lights that, when the bass is played, are supposed to light up in synchronization. So, if the lights are blinking, she’s playing. If they are not, she is not. There were plenty of occassions where you could look over at Laura, flush with panic, and see that indeed her stack’s lights were darker than American Horror Story.

I’ll miss that.

CONCLUSION … THE FINAL SET

I hope each one of my 2 readers will use the message board below to write their favorite memories of band Laura. There are countless memories and tales.

I just want to end by saying that, at its worst, when the audience wass in the 10s or the show was going horribly or I’d simply lost the will to survive on stage, it’s always been comforting to have my anchor, Laura, back behind me, to my left; your right.

Better yet, when we’re having one of THOSE shows – those shows that are epic(!) – it’s even better to look back and see Laura’s joy and share in that experience with her. From Rock Cancer to Boji to the $10-a-night hotel in St. Cloud to sleeping on a tarp as to not get AIDS in Iowa to a rancid RV trip through Michigan to Pan-o-Prog to … well .. to all of ‘em, Laura, it’s been an absolute honor to do this band thing with you. To destroy bathrooms. To bitch and laugh with you. To learn how to be in a band together. I wish you the best in your next endeavor and I look forward to carrying your stack, anytime …

“Doosh.”

…  SO, what are your favorite Laura tales … ??

Why I Drink Coors Light

Good afternoon, Minions.

I’m sitting here on my Ikea-made lounger (from the POÄNG series, I believe) sifting through oodles of fan mail (I love you all), whilst ”crushing” an ice cold, widemouth, vented, silo of Coors Light. I am, to be frank, in heaven. First of all, for the unlearned, “crushing’ means slamming, as opposed to sipping. One doesn’t sip Coors Light. One crushes Coors Light. One enjoys Coors Light.

Second, I feel that the best use of this blog – aside from political rebuttals – is to answer the hard-hitting emails I receive from you, my fans.

With that said, I received an email from one Ashley Allowits, of Farmington, Mn. It reads as follows:

Dear Collin,

I am such a fan of your work, both on stage and in the communities (thank you for your tireless work to save orphaned field mice; you are truely [sic] an inspiration). I do have one question for you: why do you drink Smart Water on stage and Coors Light offstage so much? I’m a fan of both, but am wondering if this is out of love for the products or because of another, less tangible reason.

Anyway, I love you and am so excited to see you at the Dog House in Maplewood on the 5th of August.

Sincerely,

Ashley Allowits

PS> Your rendition of “Walking on Air” is my fave!!! Please play that and add “Uprising” by Muse and “Closer to the Edge” by 30 Seconds to Mars. 

So, Ashley, you’ve noticed my beverage consumption, eh? That’s very cool. Let me explain:

While not currently sponsored by either Smart Water, nor Coors Light, I would be open to an arrangement whereas either company pays me cash to drink their beverages. Sign me up. While we’re at it, I’d be willing to sponsor products ranging from: Spanx, Levi’s skinny jeans, chest hair restorative product(s), the Dress Barn, Jamison Whiskey, Jeremiah Weed, Ron’s Plumbing Company, and any number of local full-service car wash businesses.

Anyway, I drink Smart Water for a couple of reasons, but mainly because Jennifer Aniston supports the brand. She is, in a word, “perfect.” Yeah, yeah, some say or guess she’s a bad lay and an annoying girlfriend, but that usually comes from a place of jealousy. Who cares if she can’t hold down a man longer than the duration of a mouse fart? Who cares if she films nude scenes and then doesn’t release them? If Jen drinks it, I drink it. The other more scientific reason is due to the addition of electrolytes in the water as they not only serve as a great thirst quencher, but also improve my physical stamina and respiratory system’s functionality (or something like that, I imagine).

Now, in talking about Coors Light and my love of the product, it comes down to one word: technology.

For those who don’t know, I am a bit of a technophile. I was the first person on earth to own an Atari 2600 (same for an Apple IIe, but who is bragging?), I stood in line for 12 days to buy the Motorola Razr flip phone, and I have owned each iPhone (mainly because I drop and subsequently break them, but I digress). I own a litany of flat panel televisions, including one that produces a near-perfect 4D picture. I could go on, but just know I am pretty much soaking in technology.

Naturally, I would want to drink a beer that shares the same passion, so to speak, for technology. And Coors Light does this to a “T”. Let’s run through the ways, shall we?

• Widemouth opening for quicker, easier drinking (“Crushing”) – If anything, one wants to drink their beer super fast.
• Vented lid for better beverage flow (see previous bullet)
• Cold-temp notification system – You ever grab a beer, expecting it to be cold, but instead it’s so hot that you burn your mouth or crotch so badly they have to fly a replacement mouth or penis in from Pyongyang? Exactly! With the 2 levels of cold notification on the Coors Light can, you never have to worry about spilling hot beer on your man parts. If it’s blue, it’s cold. If it’s SUPER blue, it’s damn near Krypton-cold. If it’s not a shade of blue at all, it’s probably boiling. Put it down.
• Silo can – Coors Light is the only beer to come in the tall, silo apparatus. Instead of a hard to hold, 16-ounce cylinder, Coors Light comes in an easy-to-hold, 21-ounce can.
• Can lining – the Coors Light can is lined with a NASA-created material that not only keeps the beer at a comfortable -45 degrees F, but also increases the amount of pushups a man can do by 15%. It’s math and can’t be argued
• Water – the most important feature (albeit a non-technical feature) that makes Coors Light the nectar of the Gods is the source of its water. Fact: Coors Light uses crystal clear water derived directly from the Rockies (the mountains, not the baseball team). While most beers (ahem, Microbrews) use shitty tap water or water gathered after an acid-rain storm, Coors Light has a never-ending agreement to use the Rockies as a source for their beer’s water. Being that this water is coming off of the mountains and glaciers, the temperature is damn near freezing. The water is so cold that even looking at it makes one’s face freeze up for days on end. Fact: Coors uses a space-age polymer to tap the water and filter the deer shit out of it for inclusion in the brewing cycle. Once collected, the water is mixed with a secret recipe of hops and other stuff to make for the perfect beer.

"I love technology ..."

Is This Thing On?

You kids and your damn technologies, I tell ya’.

Back in my day (let’s just say “80s, 90s, and Aughts” for sake of argument, ok?) the only technology made available to expound one’s humor/news was typing “5318008″ in a Texas Instrument calculator as it spelled “BOOBIES”.

Well, now with Twitter, MySpace, Facebook, Fox News, it seems anyone can wax poetic about the lack of affordable, yet functional dining room furniture (re: Ikea.com). Why just the other day I read an interesting 132-character Tweet, which led me to an even more interesting Facebook post, which led me to a riveting diatribe on a local newspaper, which led me to a meeting at 9 in a back alley of some local establishment where I paid a man $40 to lick my ear canals clean. CRAZY!

Anywho, I’ll be leveraging this synergistic avenue to share with you stories, news alerts, weather tips, and business vernacular for use in your day-to-day happenings.

Until then, happy birthday Laura (her 24th), go America, and remember, a pubic hair on TOP of a urinal is there for luck.

- Collin