I DO NOT FEEL GOOD...
I made this sign last night for Crue Fest at Starlake. It would turn out to be mildly prophetic. I like it due to the combination of grammatical ineptitude and general relevance (Dr. Feelgood tribute tour, ugghhh).
Anyway, my car has been out of commission (alternator), so Jepson and Kyla picked me up. I was a tad exhausted from a long day/night before and a 5 hour car ride earlier in the morning. However, the acquisition of 6 packs of Lone Star beef jerky at the Claysville Exxon buoyed my spirits. The Indian owner guy posed the usual question as I dumped $30+ worth of beef jerky on the counter, "Having a party, ehhh?" It's all about the dry texture and consistent infusion of salt/smoke. If I do atheist Christmas gift assortments (kind of like a Safshire Farms gift box), I would think Lone Star would be a definite as well as those hot mini-pepperoncinis.
Anyway, we cruise up to the show listening to Jepson's favorite band. They're an over-the-top metal throwback band with sexually graphic lyrics. For the life of me, I can't remember the name - I think it's Phantom Angel or something. Personally, I didn't mind hearing the cd one time, but I think once is sufficient. I am not a fan, but I will salute their use of the word "clitty." They must have stolen that off an episode of 7 Lives Exposed. I'd be willing to bet on it.
We get to the lot and they park us way off in Section N - basically this is like the Gobi Desert section of Mongolia. You're way off in the back. Fortunately, his extended crew was a few rows over. They had a large, canopy which seemed to have a hint of Downs Syndrome. I know that sounds harsh but the pop-up tent seemed to have this lethargic, drooping personality. It really didn't do much to provide shelter as the heat and sun were pretty brutal. We had a good time for a couple hours highlighted by some injectable pineapple/vodka jello shots.
As Theory of a Mailman hit the stage, people began to scatter and head in. I suggested we drive up and park at the top of the steps. We cruised up and a parking dude escorted us to a side area. Great spot. This helped with some of the later stages of people watching. We were sequestered for most of the tailgate so probably missed out on some high end freak shit. Remember, even though Motley Crue is kind of stale these days, they still inspire a generation.
Anyway, those guys went in for Godsmack. I ran into Gig and Nichole and basically hung with them by the limos. We zipped in for Motley Crue. The show was surprisingly weak. The vast majority of material was from the Dr. Feelgood cd - probably one of their weakest efforts. And they just sounded bad. I honestly don't remember much of the concert itself. I was far more interested in the entertaining company.
Anyway, we were walking back to the limo. At the top of the steps I somehow snagged the lip of my sandal on one of the steps. It left this bizarre gash underneath the big toe on my right foot. STINGING/THROBBING PAIN. The girls started laughing because I violently tripped but regained my balance before falling. That laughter quickly subsided as my entire foot was covered in blood. The underneath of my foot is gushing blood. I lean up against the limo and Gig snags a medical kit and a bottle of water. I start to slump and realize that I've got to sit down. I then blacked out in a light haze for about 4 minutes. I probably lost (I'm guessing) about 1.7 pints in a few minutes. Anyway, Gig gauzed it up and I regained a little composure. We walked over to Jepsonian and I got my duffle bag. I ended up going back to Washington with Gig and Nikki (some prefer to call it WashPa).
We got back to the house and Gig cleaned up my foot with the skill of a talented nursing assistant. Just kidding, I mean registered nurse. She did her absolute best to help me forget about my fucked up foot. Thanks Gig!
I tried putting weight on it today and it started bleeding again. So I crashed for a bit and just removed the gauze and redid it. My wrap job looks really ghetto but I think it will suffice. The gash is still pretty deep and open. I probably should get stitches but I think if I can keep it from bleeding, it should be alright. I still might go to Doctors Urgent Care tomorrow. It's just that my entire toe is bruised and mangled. So the fall out is no golf and obviously no running. Pearl Jam in Chicago is a pipe dream at this point. Just hobbled walking and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to use the gas pedal.
The other signs from the night...
Gunt Sweet Gunt (aka Home Sweet Home)
Gunts, Gunts, Gunts (spinoff of Girls, Girls, Girls) - my personal favorite
Vick is a Dick (not really relevant)
Pamela Anderson Loves Borat
A long night, A painful night, A wonderful night
Motley Crue really needs to hang it up. They're kind of turning into Spinal Tap. Well... Spinal Tap is a poor analogy. Spinal Tap knew what the hell was going on. Motley Crue, not so much.