Classic MySpace Blog - MASTODON - CLUB VEGAS - 3/24/07

Tuesday, March 27, 2007 

MASTODON - CLUB VEGAS - 3/24/07 I'm dressed for the roke - sweater and slacks. Bright slacks at that. PF Matt keeps calling.  Pete, too. They insist I get my ass down there for Mastodon. I'm all thinking to myself, aren't they playing with Sevendust? Wouldn't I rather put a steak knife through my eye than be anywhere near Sevendust? Turns out them homos have canceled - but their supporting acts are still playing. Matt's all, Jesus, I'll get you in free, fool. Katie? Yeah, her too. Given that Mastodon rocks hard, Matt really shouldn't have to beg me to come.  Sometimes I can be a giant dick... This will be the second time I see them without throwing any money their way (they opened for Slayer for the free show last summer). Now I'm in their debt - a scary prospect.  They're fucking strange.  How will the universe even things between us two in order to acheive Mastodon's satisfaction?  God only knows. There's, like, signs posted all over which read, MASTODON KINDLY REQUESTS ALL SMOKING BE DONE OUTSIDE OF VENUE. Well, at least it wasn't, THANK YOU FOR NOT SMOKING, which always makes me want to light up and anounce, since I'm smoking you don't have to thank me. I'm dressed like a preppy but I'm tougher than all posers who surround me and I've got to prove it so I head straight to the mosh pit and get bounced around and the one guy standing at the edge who catches my sorry ass whacks the back of my head before pushing me back in.  I take my leave with zero dignity in tact. I miss California pits where the mosh goes in one direction.  A giant, swirling thingamajig where face/fist encounters are less frequent. Some kind of car exchange program happens after the show - the details of which are sketchy.  I do remember making it to Pete's car - a four door sedan - where so much trash is piled (to the ceiling) there's barely enough room for his two passengers. That car used to be mine.  I sold it to him four years ago with the stipulation he keep it clean.  Well, relatively... this is Pete we're talking about.