Another parking lot. Another private backstage port-o-potty for the Gusters.
Quote of the day:
The last one to wake up and the last one to shit, Joe Pisapia walks out of the port-o-potty and says “it’s like soft-serve Jenga in there.”
+ = ?
Thank you, Google Image Search. Metaphor illustrated.
Biggest awkward silence of the day:
The crowd at George Mason University, who reacted dead-silently to Ryan Miller’s monologue from the stage about a port-o-potty fetish he learned about. In the interest of protecting the public from perverted voyeurs, Ryan warned everyone that there was a sub-culture of people out there whose fetish involved covering themselves in Saran Wrap and hiding in port-o-potty holes to get a front row view of the hot crappin’ action going down in there. Ryan mentioned it in the students’ interest, a “look before you shit” kind of public service announcement, but the crowd was very reserved with their expressions of appreciation. The crowd did not react at all, in fact.
Worst moment in Guster history:
A drunk horrible girl, in the middle of “Amsterdam,” bum-rushed the mixing board and turned every knob she could get her hands on before Pasty tackled her. Possibly a well-researched Al Qaeda operative, she managed to fuck-up the entire house EQ, creating twenty seconds of pure feedback, while doing damage to the guitar and vocal channels that took several songs to undo. She clearly had a plan of attack and a geopolitical anti-Guster agenda to implement. We will need to beef up security around the mixing board. As new sound engineer Paul Tozer said, “it’s just so difficult to mix when you’re angry.”