It’s been a crazy week. Been spending a lot of time with Cali before she disappears for a month and a half, hatching evil plans (including getting ideas for a guest blog on Babeled.com) and taking care of pre-Thanksgiving shenanigans.

But then last night, my buddy Frank posted this:


Oh. My. God.

Welcome to Bob's Garage!

See, 2 years ago, Frank and his cohort Gerry put together a Thanksgiving bar crawl in Blawnox that featured the SPUDS show. We started (and ended) at Bob’s Garage, and we had a complete blast. (And by the way, if you haven’t been to Bob’s Garage, it’s decorated like the Griswald’s for Christmas. Seriously, think of a Christmas store exploding in small bar, complete with 10,000 lights obnoxiously singing “Jingle Bells!” to you, and that’s Bob’s. The only bad thing is it’s a smoking bar, otherwise I’d tell you to wrangle up the kids and go eat there at lunch.)

Now, if you’re an old timer like me, you remember the SPUDS winning the rock challenge back at Graffiti’s in like 1989 or 1990 or so. Well, yes, they’re still around, and they still put on a great show. I may only see 5 live music shows a year,  but I can guarantee 1 of those shows will be the SPUDS.

See, I'm not making up that bit about the boxer shorts ...

What makes these guys so special? I think it’s just that they have a complete blast, and it’s infectious. Well, not H1N1 infectious, but if you have any sense of humor at all, you will have fun at their shows. Crazy lyrics, good music and dropping trow and playing in obnoxious boxer shorts — how can you not have fun at their shows?

To put things into perspective, we left the show with tears in our eyes from laughing so hard, packages of frozen meat and a cock towel — that’s all I’m sayin’.

While there isn’t a bar crawl associated with this visit to the SPUDS, I may go on my own mini one. You should come to the show.

I don’t care if you have to get up early for Thanksgiving — I have to be at mom’s by 11 and ready to eat by noon, and I’ll be there. Nut up and do it! You know you want to!

If you do come out and I don’t already know you, be sure to say hello. I’ll be the drunk guy with the beard.

Cock towels are optional.

"Everyone Knows" Frank, me and drunken pre-Thankgiving terrorist shenanigans ... with a cock towel.



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