Dad and Dave's US Adventure part 4

Ok, so it's day two, we've got our replacement hire car and have parked at Santa Monica Pier. I have to tell ya, on a sensational day, it's a pretty impressive place to be. The tide was out but the water washes up a long way due to the near flat sands, old bastards will remember skim boards, well this beach is prefect for it. For those not so ancient, this beach is great for cricket, check the pic below. 

Aaron suggests we walk down to muscle beach at Venice Beach, not far, a gentle stroll. Before we're even off the pier, there's some freak show standing there with a sign, before I tell you what it says, there's one thing I noticed on this visit to the states.. there's fuckin people everywhere with signs for one thing or another,  begging for this, advertising that, mostly for begging though. 

So this clown is standing up on a garden bed with a HUGE sign "Need money for penis reduction" and a bunch of other stuff scribbled around it, including "Photos $1" with a big X through it and "Photos $2" under it. 

Firstly mate, no one in their right mind would believe it, which renders the joke lame. Secondly, your personality is like the one mate everyone has, the person who thinks their funny but everyone just rolls their eyes at. Yeah.. that cunt. 

Then again, maybe other people find it funny, not me, fuck off mate, try harder to get my dollar. 

Muscle beach is an interesting place, I mean, you hear about it, you see it in movie's, but to see it in motion, people doing this of their free will, en masse, was weird. It's basically a whole bunch people showing off. Or it could be a whole bunch of people trying to stay fit using public equipment. Nah, I'm sticking with my first impression, this is America after all, land of the fuckin weird. 

The beach is wide, really wide in fact, I found city beach in Perth to be like that, and although it's flat, it gives you a bit of a work out as you walk to the waters edge. It was worth it, the water was cool and refreshing and it really gave me a sense of 'ahhhh I'm on holidays'. Ya know that feeling? Fuckin great. 

I take the obligatory Baywatch photo, and we head back toward the boardwalk. We're thirsty. Real thirsty. Holidays in the sun thirsty. "Aaron find us a bar on ya phone" I say, he dials into an app and comes up Finn McCools. Yep, in the heart of Venice Beach we find an Irish Pub. How gauche.

Still, they have a bunch of different beers on tap,Dad goes for a bottle of bud, he's found his flavour and he's sticking to it, unless he finds a cheap Corona. I don't even remember what I had to drink, I know it was beer.. and it was cold.. and delicious. We chat, listen to the 3 piece irish band playing in the front bar, checking our the scenery, then Aaron and I notice the vodkas on the shelf. "Dude they have infused Vodkas here, we should get one" he says. "Ok" I agree, really had to twist my arm on that one. 

I'm sure at the time I took a mental note on the names of the vodkas so I could regale friends with these foreign delights, but this is day two, and I drank every day after that, you reckon I had a chance of remembering? I do know that they were local to California, and we had them with soda on ice and they, like the beers, were cold, and delicious. Dad stuck with Budweiser. Pussy. 

We start to get peckish, and decide to eat, traditional Irish fare for us, we needed something to sop up the booze before we crash too early. 

We decide to leave soon after, not realising we'd been there for over 2 hours. "we gotta get back or we'll end up staying here all night, and fuck that" I say. We get a cab, stuff walking back now.

Back at Santa Monica pier, dad ends up getting sucked into buying these kids flying rubber band toys.. he's pissed, not blind, just on the verge, he's having a good time. 

We get back to the hotel and prepare for another assault on West Hollywood. 

I'll tell you about it tomorrow. 

Dad and Dave's US Adventure, Part 3

I remember waking up slowly to the sound of birds and water trickling and thinking 'where the fuck am I?', as I rolled over, I could feel the effects of a big night, I felt foggy, I dared to open my eyes and I notice that the blinds are open, and so is the balcony door, the warm LA breeze negating the need for anything heavier than a sheet. Aaron is awake and rummaging through his shit, "what the fuck are you looking for? What time is it?" I ask. "I can't find my lighter.. it's 10" he replies. "Is dad awake?.. fuck, what time did we get home?" I ask as I stumble out of bed and make the stagger to the dunny.
Dad has an adjoining room, so I knock and call his name, no response, he's obviously catching up on sleep so I leave him be and head out to the balcony to check out where we are. Top floor, overlooking the pool is where we are... funny, I don't remember even coming back to the room. I'm sure I'm not alone there.

Some 20 minutes later dad opens the door, he's showered and looking refreshed, 'bastard' I think to myself.. Best I get myself moving, for what I'm not entirely sure, but we have a stunning day outside, it's day two or this epic trip and I wanna get out there. Little did I know what this day had in store for us.

We decide we're gunna hit Malibu to see how the other half lives, but first we have to get to Ralphs across the road. That's a supermarket, I need water, and fuckin lots of it.

We get into our shit box Chrysler 200, plug in the ipod, and make our way west along Ventura Blvd, then onto Ventura fwy. Dad is sitting in the back, Aaron is driving, and I'm up front loving life. Dad on the other hand, is hating it. With the top down, his ears are getting buffeted by wind, he's gettin shit in his eyes, and he's whinging like a bitch. He hates it. Not exactly what I wanted for him.

We get off the freeway at Topanga Canyon rd and decide it's best to cruise up and over to Malibu, a much more sedate and picturesque way to go. If you get the chance, do the drive, it's bloody nice.

Soon enough we find ourselves on the coast and head north to Malibu. Stunning scenery, and you know you're in a ritzy part of California pretty quick, as BMW's, Porsche's, Mercedes, and other exotics adorn the driveways of the seaside joints.
We're looking for something to eat, and have no idea what we want, so after a quick look around, we decide to head back toward Santa Monica Pier, we'll find something on the way.

We stop on the side of the road to be tourists, take some pics and check it out. It's a bloody beautiful part of the world.

Aaron recognises a joint and suggest we pull in for lunch. I would tell you the name of it, but I'm fucked if can remember. Bloody top joint though, right on the water, we get a booth, hell of a view, order beers and lunch. The cocunut shrimp was UNBELIEVABLY GOOD. When I find out the name, I'll let you know.

Fed and watered, we make our way to Santa Monica Pier. We swing into the enormous car park to the right  of the pier, find a spot, it's a glorious day, time to people watch, take some pics and wander around.

I hit the switch for the roof (we're in the convertible) and this is where the fun began..

The Chrysler 200 convertible has a hard lid that pops up and the soft top then extends from under that and latches onto the windscreen, fully automated, it's pretty impressive. Until the hard lid stops half way open, as it it did this day. (see pic below)
We checked fuses, tried it a dozen times, but this thing was stuck halfway. So there we are, so close to the Santa Monica Pier, yet so far away. "You gotta be kidding me.. what a piece of shit' I say, I find the rental agreement with the 1800 number and I remember the agent at the rental joint saying 'here's the number, not that you'll need it, if anything happens". I should have known.. famous last words.

I call and get through to a lovely lady on the other end, all the while, my old man and Aaron are making small talk about how much of a piece of shit this car is. "fuckin gutless, slow, bits falling off it, now this" says dad. We're all being philosophical about it, as much as we're pissed off, we could be stuck in a worse place than Santa Monica on a beautiful day.

'We want a bigger and better car than this, I don't want another one of these" I say, "That could take a while, can you bring it back here?" the agent asks.. "ahh, no, it's a bit dangerous to drive like this, it's like a bloody sail". "Well, it could take a couple of hours to get one out to you" Shit.

We sit around for a while before Aaron suggests dad and I at least get up to the pier and look around, he'll stay with the car and his phone, we agree and go for a wander, just a quick walk to the end, snap some pics, grab slurpees and head back to the car. Aaron gets a call, it's an automated call telling us how long the car will be, it's been dispatched and should be there within the hour.

His phone rings a little while later, it's another automated call, the car is 20 minutes away..

A short while later, his phone rings, its the truck driver asking where we are exactly, Aaron explains "we're in the huge car park to the right of the pier... no I don't know what street it's on, we're not from here... just go down the hill to the car park and come in.. there'll be a guy near the traffic cones.. just tell em why you're here, we've seen a couple of Triple A cars in here, so you won't have to pay... great... thanks"

It's been an hour and thirty minutes since the first phone call I made.. could be worse I guess.

The phone rings again.. it's our truck driver.. Aaron talks to him "no.. dude, we're in the big car park to the right of the pier, you can't miss it, it's massive, where are you?... I don't know where Colorado street is, have you come through the ticket box yet?" Aaron is getting agravated.. rightly so, this shouldn't be that hard, the truck driver is from LA, you'd think he's know where the fuckin carpark at the Santa Monica Pier is, but ooooohh no.. we're dealing with a brain dead fucktard.. but this brain dead fucktard has our replacement car so I'm urging Double A to play it cool. He doesn't.

For the next half an hour the phone calls continue and our truck driver has NO idea where we are, dad goes for a walk to see if he can find this arse wipe with our replacement car. In the meantime.. "listen dude, you stay where you are, we'll find you". "What?.. mate we can't drive this bloody thing like this" "Well fuck, this guys is a complete dumb cunt.. I know it's like a catchers mitt, but what the fuck"

Meantime, dad is AWOL.. he's out looking for this guy too, so we've got no idea where he is, we drive around the car park looking for dad, we find him, he gets in and we hit the highway and do a lap up to where we think he is.. he's no where to be seen. Fuck.. we take a wrong turn and end up back in the car park FUUUUCK! Back out onto the highway (hey it's a big car park, fuck off) and just before we turn down a street, we spy this bonehead truck driver parked at an intersection, our car facing the wrong way into traffic. This guy really is a dickhead.

We pull up, "see I'm at Colorado near the car park he he he" (Yeah mate, we can see that) "Dude, see that HUGE fucking car park? That's where you're supposed to be" Aaron says.

We clear our gear our of the shit box, (I still have the spare key to the Chrysler) grab the keys of this arse clown to our replacement car, a red Mustang convertible (finally!) and head back to the car park for the third time, park, lock up, and head off into the sun.. surely nothing else could go wrong today.. surely..

To be continued...

Dad and Daves US Adventure, Part 2

After a quick soap up of this glorious body of mine, the old man, Aaron and I decide it's time to look around.
I tell em that I want to hit up the Rainbow in West Hollywood, because, like a star struck tourist,I want to see if God aka Lemmy, will be at his usual spot at the bar playing his pokie machine.

We bowl in there and grab a spot outside and settle in with some beers, I hit up the jukebox, which has an incredible amount of everything in it, so choosing what to play wasn't going to be easy. I settle on some Alice in Chains, Pantera, and Queen which seemed to go over pretty well, no complaints from the regulars and visitors alike.

The girl behind the bar is an absolute stunner, I would go there just to see her, forget Lemmy, she is gorgeous, I hope she is there when I go back.

"Is that him" says my old man, who has NO idea who Lemmy is, but sure as shit, there he was. No one batted an eyelid, friendly guy, going about his business. I was fucking loving it. Night 1 in LA and I've already spoken to Mark Margolis and before my very eyes, a legend.. Lemmy. This trip rocks.

We move inside and beers are consumed exceedingly quickly. I'm not sure how it happened, but we start talking to two girls, Alyssa and... shit I forget her name, anyway, they're locals, as in they live in Hollywood, and they seem really nice. We joke and drink and chat and drink.. boy do we drink.

The old man decides he's had enough and he'll leave Aaron and I to our own devices. So we make sure he gets into a cab, and he knows where he is going.. he seems happy enough to call it a day, to be fair, we'd now been up for close to 48 hours.

Aaron and I kick on with the girls.. I'll leave this part empty.. all you need to know is, we wished them a goodnight and went our separate ways.

Knackers and I decided to go exploring some more, and I can't tell you the name of the bar we went to, all I can tell you is, the HUGE margaritas cost $16 each, when I say huge, I mean they were fucking huge. Novelty factor huge. (SEE PIC BELOW) I don't even like Margaritas that much.  We sat down at a small bar and were approached by a young couple, clearly visitors from out of town and who were amazed that we would buy such ridiculous drinks. I don't know their names, but I know that we're on their facebook somewhere.

We bail out of big arse margaritaville and walk up and down Hollywood Blvd looking at the stars on the footpath, wondering who half of them were.. Who the fuck is Neil Hamilton? Georges brother? Ya know, the bloke that has skin like a suitcase and played Zorro once. Anyway, back to the blvd.

Stumbling along we see 4 low riders parked, stereos blaring.  The Bonnet was up on one them, so I stick my head under hoping to see some high performance gear, but I'm met with a stock standard looking old V8 that won't start.

"What's wrong with it mate?" I ask.. "Flat Battery my man, gotta get a jump, you got a car?" He says, clearly no picking up on my accent and that fact that I wouldn't have a car, mainly coz I was pissed to the eyeballs.

We start to ask around and soon enough we've scored him some jumper leads and his home boy brings his old Lincoln with 24 inch rims and jump starts the car. It was at this point that I notice his baby, fast asleep in the baby seat in back. Homie jumps in, missus beside him, first thing he does is crank the stereo, baby doesn't flinch, then he hits the switches and makes the car dance on it's hydraulic suspension and that baby fair dinkum shit it's pants right there and then.

Ya know when you wake up a mate who's in a deep sleep and they freak out look around bewildered at what's happening? That's what this kid looked like.. ha ha, it was bloody unreal.

I'd like to tell you after this we got a cab back to the hotel, but we didn't, we got a slice of pizza, something we didn't remember until the next day, but what transpired after that slice.. .well... there may have been some  'standing on the seat of the convertible as we drove down the freeway'.. there 'may have'.

To be continued.

Dad and Dave's US adventure, part 1

It's Sunday night, 7:24, I'm sipping on a Bookers bourbon over ice with my feet up, the past two weeks have been amazing.

The idea for a trip to the states came about a few months ago, in fact it was before June because Dad and I had already booked our trip to Bali, and there we were planning our next trip. Not sure why, I think he said "I want to see the Grand Canyon". Funnily enough it turned out to be a bit of a let down for him, but more of that later, fussy prick.

We took off at midday on Saturday the 13th of October, and landed in LA at 8:30am on Saturday the 13th of October. That enough was enough to fuck with dads mind.
We found the courtesy bus to get to the car rental company, we got all the sorted, I had booked a Mustang Convertible, I wanted to be a clichéd as possible you see. I was told 'second row to the right, keys are in it.'
So I take a right down the second aisle and look for my Mustang.. hmm.. I don't see any.. I see 3 Chrysler 200 convertibles.. then I realise, I'm not getting my clichéd Mustang. Meh, no big deal, I'm on holidays.

Let me tell you something for free, the Chrysler 200 convertible is a piece of shit. Underpowered with no room in it. It's rubbish. Don't ever hire one.

I call my mate Aaron, he lives in Portland, Oregon, a place that we'll end up in soon, and who's agreed to come on the trip with my dad and I. This is not our first adventure together, we met in Bali in 1998 and have stayed mates since, we've met up in Bali, Thailand, the US and here before. So he'll feature in this story quite a bit.
He'd flown down the day before, and was staying a cheap joint on Hollywood, from there we'd head out to Studio City for a couple of nights, that's out near Universal Studios, north of the airport.
We check into our hotel, it's a retro joint called Sportsmans Lodge. Very basic, but full of old world charm and a bit of history going by the pics adorning the walls. We dump our gear and get down to the pool for a few drinks. Dad and I have been up for for around 22 hours at this stage, and with adrenalin flowing, we're doing just fine.

We move to a table in the shade as the sun was bearing down with some vitriol and I didn't want the old man to cook up to the point of ruining his first day. It was at that point Aaron motions to another table in the shade and says, 'isn't that the guy from Breaking Bad?.. what's his name?' I turn to see a familiar face, but the name escapes me, we both reel off movies and TV shows he's been in, "Wasn't he the landlord in Ace Ventura Pet Detective?" I say.

We google those shows and find Mark Margolis. He plays Hector in Breaking Bad for those that watch it.

Dunno what he was doing there, but it was kinda cool that no one blinked an eye at the fact that he was there, doing whatever he was doing by the pool. Did he live at the hotel? Was he waiting for someone? We never did figure it out. Although I did speak to him briefly as I passed him in the hall, He noted my accent and asked if I was Australian, "I've just been working with an Australian, do you know Russell Crowe?". I said I did know of Russell, although I've never met him personally. "We've been doing a movie, he's not actually Australian, he was born in New Zealand", yes I'm aware of that "He's a really nice guy, some people say he's a bit abrupt, but ya know he just doesn't suffer fools gladly that's all"

Someone else introduces themselves to him, a real gusher fan, so I excuse myself and head back to the table where dad and Aaron are. We move on to bourbons, a bottle of Bullet that Aaron had brought along, not sure if we were supposed to be pouring our own by the pool, but we did. We anarchists can not be told what to do in the city of the angels. We're rock stars. Isn't every one in LA?

to be continued..

Keyboard Heroes

There's some shit going on in the world right now, Aussie and New Zealand troops being killed in Afghanistan, hurricanes hitting the south of the states, again, earthquakes every second week, and if that isn't enough, now Charlotte Dawson is in hospital after some pathetic oxygen thieves berated and harassed her on Twitter.

Why did they do that? Because she stood up to bullies.

Internet trolls are nothing new, people who just want to stir the pot because they have nothing else to do, and probably ( I don't know for fact as I don't actually know any keyboard heroes) brag to their mates how they 'really got Charlotte Dawson on Twitter'.

Think about how fucking stupid that sounds, yes, it really is that fucking stupid.

People are losing family members, friends, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and all some shit stain cares about is being as abusive as possible to a public figure behind the anonymity of a keyboard somewhere.

Corrine Grant just wrote a fantastic piece on this very issue http://thehoopla.com.au/dear-charlotte-lovecorinne/?cpg=2 and I wasn't sure that I could add anything to it, but I can. Support.

Corrine and I share mutual friends, one of which we lost a few years ago to suicide because we didn't know the extent of his depression. Depression is real, it's not a sign of weakness, it's very real, and it's fucking awful. I know a lot of people don't understand it, and probably never will, because it doesn't make a lot of sense. "Why are you feeling sad, you have a great life", if only it were that easy. You feel useless, pathetic, you sit hating yourself, not wanting to associate with anyone, and when you do, it's like a dark fog that clouds your vision, regardless of what people see from the outside looking in.

We're all guilty of giving someone a spray, being vitriolic, it's human nature, and I don't think it's ever going to change, but maybe we can be more aware of the consequences, and then maybe people will think twice before they unleash fury on someone they don't even know.

I'm fairly anonymous being on radio, and I cop shit from people on the phone, e-mails, twitter and so on, and I can only imagine what someone like Charlotte Dawson cops from the brain dead single digit typists with chips on their shoulder, I think it stinks.
That's the problem with social media like twitter isn't it. It gives everyone a voice, there's no editing, and for the most part, are unaccountable for they damage they do all too often.
I don't want to see anyone else fall to the depths my friend did not so long ago, myself included.

Any wonder my heart is fucked.

Round 17, Essendon vs Geelong. Geelong smashed them, and it was at that moment, I knew the bombers season was over. I announced it then, "they won't win another game all year". 4 games later, I'm right so far. I wish I wasn't. My heart wishes I wasn't.

North played better right across the ground, even after suffering injuries to Adams and Wells, two key midfielders, and without Ziebel. They are another level above Bombers, who themselves have been plagued by injury this year, but just haven't had what it tales to cover it.

As a Bombers fan, they are ultimately frustrating to watch. That's not to say they don't have great players, they do, Hurley, Watson, Bellchambers, Dempsey, are all playing well, but the stupid mistakes and over use of the ball resulting in turn overs is just painful. Any wonder my heart is stuffed, watching these guys is killing me.

What's the answer? Who knows, but as just another armchair coach of course I'll weigh in. Firstly, the fitness needs to improve. Well over 20 hamstring injuries this season. What the fuck is that all about? How does one team suffer so many fuckin hamstring injuries? FIX IT.

Secondly, Cale Hooker, he's a big strong bloke, but he can't run. FIX IT.

Thirdly, Dyson Heppell. I love this kid, he's funny and has got skills, he's just forgotten how to use them. Rising Star last year, lost all confidence this year. I dunno what's going on in his head, but the mistakes he makes are worthy of me throwing a pie in his face. FIX IT.

We're getting killed around the contested ball. What happened to once great 'rover' or 'crumber'? FUCKIN FIX IT!

I know we're rebuilding.... and I know that Matthew Knights set us back a bit when he was at the helm, god knows we have one of the best coaching staff in the league, so WTF? FIX IT!

I will never stop supporting my beloved Bombers, and I know that all good things take time.. but this is 2 seasons in a row we've started great and then faded into obscurity. FIX IT!

FUCK!

What a year..

On Saturday night, my hard rock and metal show 'Distortion' celebrated it's 1st birthday.

The show is a babe in the woods on the radio landscape of Melbourne and Sydney where it airs on Saturday nights, but I'm stoked it's done so well so far.

When I was growing up, I was introduced to a load of new music through radio. Community radio. Those stations were the ones who lead the charge with hard rock and metal shows. As a 16 yr old I would scan through the green guide looking for shows to listen to, word of mouth was also crucial coz back then, the internet simply didn't exist.
I was put onto bands like Deicide, Sepultura, and Pantera (amongst many others) via community radio.

And now, I get to play the music I love, on commercial radio. Triple M.

To me, it makes sense, we're a rock station, we should be paying this stuff, it's an opinion I know is shared by literally thousands of people as is apparent on the Distortion Facebook page. But up until a year ago, it just wasn't going to be... until..

I asked.

I asked the head honcho if I could do a show, he said yes. And so it began.

He was willing to take a chance on a hard rock and metal show because he knew how much I love the music and how important it is to showcase new Australian bands.

Not taking anything away from what Triple J, Triple R, 3PBS and other community stations do for local hard rock and metal bands, I just figure, the more the merrier. The metal community is extremely vocal, passionate, and protective. They buy the albums, go to the shows, buy the merch, wear it proudly like a badge because hard rock and metal is a lifestyle and I wanna help it grow. This kind of music is just as deserving of publicity and support as anything else out there, it's just that it has an unfortunate stigma attached to it that will, hopefully, go away one day.

I wish these musicians were celebrated for their talents rather than derided and shunned. I know it's certainly not everyone's cup of tea, and I can understand why, some of it is just downright frightening. But then, that's part of it's charm innit.

So publicly, I wanna thank the people that have helped me along the way. Sure, it's a one man operation when it comes to the music, putting the show together etc etc, but behind the scenes, there are so many.

Chris Maric from RIOT! Entertainment. Legend. Thanks for your undying support and introducing me to so many great bands. Lets not forget John Howarth from RIOT! as well, coz without the head cheese, where would we be. Champion.

Janine Morcos from Roadrunner. You are a bloody gem, plain and simple. Thanks for being awesome.
P.S. All the Roadrunner staff have been amazing, it's just that Janine is my front line gal and a legend.

Karen McLennan from Warner Music, thanks for sharing my enthusiasm for this show.

Tim Charles and all at Welkin Entertainment, for putting me onto such brilliant music and presenting excellent festivals (and Ne O of course)

Chris, Troy, Mel and everyone at Soundwave. GREAT people putting together the BEST festival this country has.

Everyone from Firestarter records, great tunes from the west.

All the bands who send in their music, the standard just keeps getting better and better.

But most of all, I wanna say thanks to everyone who listens every week, who jump on the FB page and get involved, suggesting music and ideas.

Oh, and Fisty, if you're reading this, thanks, I really appreciate it. Now, how's about we go for an hour thirty at a better time slot?

Here's to the next 12 months.

Keep it loud.

\m/(>.<)\m/



*Triple M Distortion airs Saturday Midnight - 1am Sunday 105.1 Triple M Melbourne, 104.9 Triple M Sydney.
Stream through www.triplem.com.au/melbourne
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