All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 7: The End

The Final chapter of the Everything is Terrible tour diary, where we reflect, repent, deny and distort and say shit like, “Damn that awesome.”

It was a long journey. We were on the road for nearly three months. We played 75 shows. We had six days off. We drank a lot of beers. We made lots of wraps in the van. We unloaded the van and loaded the van and unloaded the van and loaded the van.  We set up our stage and performed and took everything down and put it in the van and drove towards sleep. Over and over again. We woke up and drove and did it again. The [...]

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 4: Shady Mechanics, the Border Patrol, and Local News Idiots

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 4: Where we escape America, play our way down the coast, go to Hollywood in Portland, and the news is that local news sucks.

Every day I wake wondering, “Where the fuck am I?”

This tour is wearing on us. We are living off of coffee and beer and really need to make a conscious effort to eat right and drink lots of water, a boring liquid that keeps one alive and healthy but doesn’t contain chemicals that make one high and happy.

Touring is auto repair shops and truck stops with racist Obama T-shirts. Our brakes are making noises. Squeaks and screams that grow [...]

All Dogs Go On Tour: Hitting the Road with Everything is Terrible

"Terrible" is scrawled backwards in blood across the hood of our van. It’s backwards so you can see us coming in your rear view mirror. Still, as we drive, I can’t help but feel that the signature is not enough. On previous tours our van was decorated with a naked 1979 beefcake named Cobra, genitals covered only by a babe’s hand. Unfortunately, some Chicago prudes scratched him off with angry fingernails before we left and so for now we are feeling dangerously inconspicuous, boring even. This must not stand. Soon we will get some paint.

It’s hard for me to explain Everything Is Terrible and my part within this monster to my [...]

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 6: Canadian Trouble, Hank Williams III, and the Shoe Licker

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 6:  Where we battle Canada, Hank the III, and a bunch of auto mechanics, and finally our shoes get licked.  

We missed our first show when we couldn’t get into Montreal. The immigration officer said, “If you try again to cross the border today, you will all be banned forever from Canada.” That seems like overkill for a bunch of dudes that dress like dogs, and being banned from a country actually seems much like an interesting braggers right. But despite the cool story I’d have to tell at American parties, we surrendered, turned around after two hours of waiting and arguing [...]

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 3: Blizzards, Colorado Medicine, and Strip Club Sadness

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part Three: Where we forget stuff, prepare to die in the snow, dance the night away, fear and loath strip clubs and saloons, and sleep little.

Dear tour diary,

I have to go backwards. I forgot a day. I lost a whole day. A holiday even. Groundhogs day. I forgot to write about it and I can’t remember whether or not the damned dog-hog fled from his shadow. I’m losing holidays.

Columbia was somewhere between St. Louis and Wichita and also the first theater to put us up in a hotel. This one even had a pool! But alas, on Groundhog’s day we checked in with no time [...]

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 5: Duck Guts, Weed For All, and the Border Patrol

All Dogs Go On Tour, Part 5: Where we get pelted with animal parts, feel at home in Cali, get the cops called on us at college, and get some peace of mind in the southwest.

It’s almost over. Just a matter of weeks. March has been a clusterfuck of exciting shows and hard work and we had zero days off. I wondered if I’d ever get a chance to sit down and finish writing this. Our one scheduled day off in the month of March was unfortunately spent in the van driving back to a theater where we left a box of merchandise. There is no rest for [...]

All Dogs Go on Tour, Part 2: Everything Is Terrible in Middle America

Part two of Everything is Terrible's tour journal: where we travel from Minneapolis to Wichita, weird out middle America, steal bedrooms from children, ain't afraid of no ghosts, and keep moving.

California is home for half of us, and sitting on this familiar couch while sipping an IPA with my feet up makes me feel normal. This is me writing about two weeks ago, but it feels as if I’m writing about the ancient past. We are in the west coast now. We’ve driven through snow and mountains and deserts and though the country has been crossed, we’ve only just begun.  We’re less than a third of the way through. Where did [...]