Parties in LA are a little strange because you have to drive everywhere so everybody can't get all stupid amounts of drunk, because they have to drive home. And if the bottom line is, having to spend 4 hours of carefully monitoring your drinking (while there's FULL OPEN BAR ALL NIGHT) really just isn't all that much fun - so by 1am the party had pretty much cleared out. Which means that when the band Bad Religion showed up (who were my favorite band of all time when I was 14), they only played to a room of 50 people (have of whom were still at the party only because they were waiting to sober up so they could drive home).
Oh, and did I mention that Vito Covino, their lead singer, dresses like a fucking ninja? Hmmm, now that I think about it, if I've learned anything from Hollywood, it's that there are two groups of people that you don't fuck with: Itailians and Ninjas. Considering that the lead singer of this band is an Italian that dresses like a ninja - I'd like to take a moment to re-iterate that I thought that the band was totally fucking amazing and that I just didn't like the music they choose to cover. Everybody square on that? Ok, moving on...
These guys were really fucking amazing players, they just kept covering songs by the shittiest band! Case in point, according to their site just some of the artist they cover include Puddle of Mudd, Staind, Trapt, Hoobastank...need I go any further? (PS - Is that dude on the left wearing a fucking hockey mask while playing? Awesome.
When we walked into O'Donohughe's, we were assaulted by really crappy nü-metal music blasting on the jukebox. As we ventured further into the bar, it turned out that it wasn't a jukebox; oh no! Instead it was a totally amazing cover band, covering really crappy nü-metal music. Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Beneath the Skin!
Saturday night, my brother and I crossed the bridge to experience some Long Beach Island night life action. We went to some club and managed to catch a clutch Bruce Springsteen cover band (I shit you not). Even though faux-Bruce rocked the house, the night didn't come close to last year's LBI Nightlife Antics.
On Sunday night I was sitting home working on this stooopid site when I got a call from Sarah (whose fancy job is always getting her invited to fancy events) who asked me if I wanted to go see the Dashboard Confessional with her in a few minutes. I cooly answered "Sure, I guess I meet you there" (as my secret inner emo-fag wept with tears of joy and excitement).