Angry Teens

I got this message on myspace today
from a 16 year old in Michigan:

"Why don't you call someone a "dick" in some of your songs?

All you say is Pussy. You're sexist

You are a fucking dick, how would you like it if I made a song that
said So- and - so is a dick.?

Cocksucking dickhead...."

-p

The Mess of America

Last night we played in St Paul, Minnesota,
just next to Minneapolis, at a fun little dive
called Station 4.

They had a ping pong table.

That is fucking cool.

The show was great,
at least I thought so,
and the people were cool,
and I got a little stoned,
and the last band's drummer
had nine cymbals.

We needed a place to sleep last night,
so we found a travel guide with coupons.

$42 for the Select Inn.

Sweet.

We checked into the lobby with our coupon,
and the first flag came right away.

Softcore porn on the TV in the lobby.

Real softcore,
like g-strings,
but it was definitely erotic.

Hmmmmm...

While Kristen was checking in,
I was wandering around the lobby.

"look, a pamphlet!"

"Welcome to Select Inn,
a proud member of the Fantasuite Family"

Fantasuite?

What is a fantasuite?

"look, a pamphlet about Fantasuite"

"Welcome to Fantasuite,
a customized erotic adventure."

Whoa....

Suite.

Turns out,
Fantasuite is a hotel chain
that uses themed erotic rooms.

Hard to explain.

But they have 12+ different themes,
like Western, Arabian Night, Outerspace,
Vegas Nights, some weird stuff, like Jungle Adventure,
and Undersea Lounge.

Each room is all decked out with crazy surfaces,
angles, baby...
and decorations and big beds and a hot tub.

In the Western, your bed is under a tee-pee,
and the hottub is like a big metal tank thing.

In Outerspace, you sleep in a UFO with a VCR
and an old school Nintendo, which is awesome.

The rooms are $150, so we didn't get one,
but I certainly wanted to.

---------------
Last night, we ran out of the new England Live CD,
so I had to get some printed here in Minneapolis.

We had an hour or two to kill,
so I took Kristen to the Mall of America.

Holy shit.

I forgot how big that thing is.

The map is completely irrelevant,
you can't read it, and it doesn't tell you
where you are, and the numbering system
is way beyond human understanding.

For example, and this is not a fib,
our parking spot was in B-10 Georgia Peach East level 2.

What the hell is that?

Inside the mall, they have added a second roller coaster.

It was ten dollars for the two of us to ride,
very fun, actually, for 45 seconds.

We tried to shop, but we couldn't find anything
except the Gap, and the Gap is the same everywhere,
so what is the point of going into this one?

We bought some juice, ate lunch from the free samples
in the Chef Store, and went on our way back to B-10 Georgia Peach.

"which one?"

"Level 2"

"East or West?"

"East"

-p

The continuing saga of the Pub II

It seems people are still reacting to my old post about the Pub II.

If you didn't read the story,
that was the bar in Normal, IL
where I walked out of a show.

Because, they had 4 giant tv screens
blasting sports center along the wall
behind the stage, and they wouldn't turn them
off during our show.

It was one of my most proud moments,
and it led to the kick ass show in the basement.

But, according to this very intelligent gentleman,
it somehow makes me gay:

"wow, u guys are gay. the homies from the frats? god damn man ur a
fuckin loser. through up west side?? again, loser. makin fun of the
manager? now is that nessesary everyone knows he's a fat bald loser
even him. if u guys really rocked why are u worried about the the
t.v's if u were really "rockin out" then no problems, if you can even
focus on your own show cuz of a t.v u need to get your mind off the
cock, i hope those frat boys but a big one in ur ass"

-p

Iowa

I'm at a rest stop in Iowa.

There was a girl's gymnastic team outside racing around
on handstands.

very strange.

The subaru is getting along nicely,
we've put 4,000 miles on it in the last two weeks.

Shows are going well,
we've got the day off today
to mill around in Mankato.

I'm looking forward to playing
poker with the locals at the tournaments
at some bowling alley.

Last time I met Slippery Mike.

That was his name,
at least that's how he introduced himself.

"I'm Slippery.... Slippery Mike."

Maybe it was Matt.

What a boring blog entry.

I'm fighting a hangover from
last night's debacle in Des Moines.

I played a third, drunken encore.

Mostly Weezer songs and a terrible
attempt at the Greatest American Hero theme song.

-p

When she's getting closer

I've been walking around Evanston all day today,
listening to my new album.

It's done, without being done.

I'm going to post up an mp3 later today,
just for you, the blog reader.

I have some last minute changes to make,
a backround vocal louder here, a cello softer there.

That's right, I said a cello.

Just one of them, not all three have to come down.

I also have to add a little bit of Jew's Harp to White Trash Woman.

That's right, I said Jew's Harp.

It's that little boing boing boing instrument
that you hold in your teeth.

Surprisingly difficult to play.

The actual origin of the name
has nothing to do with Jewish people.

Wikipedia explains it well.

The album includes these songs:
White Trash Woman
Suburban Highschool
Fuck Guitar Center
Snufulupugus
50 Cent is a Pussy
You Shouldn't Have Pissed Me Off
STD Test
The Masterpiece
It's Time to be Gay
Mystery of the Clit
Dude, I'm So High (feat Pauly Doerr on bass, and Matt Donehoo on drums)
and a very special jazz remix of If You Really Love Me

I expect to have it done with mixing tonight.

Then it's off the mastering house,
and then it's off to the printers.

I'm going to have it for sale online,
through CD Baby for shipping,
and some download service for MP3s.

I hope you love it,
I'm very proud.

Snufulupugus kicks ass.

thanks for waiting.
look for the mp3 up later tonight (Wednesday)
for a limited time only.

-p

Realistic Goals

I think it's important to set goals.

I never do it,
it's always been one of my goals,
to set goals,
but I'm not much for following throu..

My goal today is to beat out Peter Walker
on music search engines.

I don't know who Peter Walker is,
but he is a thorn in my side.

Peter Walker is, or was, a musician.

He put out an album called, "Paradise is Awfully Nice"

It shows up on the internet as:
Paradise is Awfully Nice - Peter Walker

paradise is awfully NICE PETER walker

Thus...
when searching for myself,
as I often do,
I always find this schmoe.

I should probably buy his album.

Lord knows several people have bought
mine only because their name is Peter.

I got one angry email from a Pete,
back in the mynameispete.com days,
he was very frustrated that I took the URL he wanted.

I still have it, will keep it for a long time.

Nice Peter may come or go,
but I'll always be making some sort of music,
and my name will always be pete.

unless I change it to Alfred.

-p

Where's the keyboard?

"Pete, when are you going to write a new blog?"

Today.

I've been depressed.

When I get all depressed,
all I can think to write about
is being depressed.

Which seems to me like a waste of time.

So I've been avoiding the blog,
like I've been avoiding most things.

But today I'm doing a little bit better.

I'm in my parents house,
listening to them argue cheerfully
with Kristen while I type.

I don't have much to say, yet,
but I do have some quick updates:

I bought a new car.
because my old car shit the bed.
The Mercury is out of commission,
blew a head gasket, a $2000 fix
on a $400 car.

ouch.

I bought a 1997 Subaru Outback
with 37,000 miles from an older
man with Alsheimer's.

He couldn't find the title.

Couldn't remember where he put it.

ouch.

But eventually, he did,
and I bought the car,
and I love it.

It's a manual transmission.

I didn't know how to drive one,
but I figured it out on the way home.

I'd like to apologize
to the Honda Civic behind me.

sorry.

I had a show in CHicago the other week.

I hated it.

It wasn't your fault,
you wonderful person
int he audience, it was mine.

I had nothing new to offer you,
and I wasn't excited to be there,
and that's what got me depressed.

I just felt washed up,
which I know is stupid,
because I'm not.

I've just got to write some new songs.

and.

I've got to finish this album,
which is pretty much finished,
but not totally,
and that kinda has me down too.

so.

that's that.

I'm off to Ithaca,
on our blotchy big tour,
which didn't come together
exactly as I hoped.

But I've got a car,
and I'm not hungry,
so I guess I'm doing alright.

I'll be back,
just give me a little time
to remember how to be funny.

-p