Gainesville: The City of Dreams, Pizza In The Morning, and A Man Who Eats Sandwiches Like A Duck.

Being in bands for a good period of my life, there are a few cities that have actually given me stories. Gainesville, Fl is certainly one of them. There have been trips to this city that come to mind, specifically, which include a good number of our friends, a shitty hotel, music that does not match atmosphere, quotes from a retarded person, a man who swallows sandwiches whole, eventually the discovery of a Dairy Queen attached to a Mobil gas station, freezing cold toilets, a mysterious fog, and a few shitty demos. Welcome to Gainesville.

Let me start by saying that I hate the Gators. And the University of Phoenix.

And, here are some tidbits that may or may not give essence and life to the city that never drinks anything but Pabst;

-My first trip to Gainesville involved a band that had gone through a number of name changes. Earnhardt and Alliance where the two that I could remember, but finally, we settled on Total Recall. We had a few songs, and we needed to go record them somewhere, and Goldentone Studios was the place, so off we went. This included a trip in a minivan owned and driven by Matt Moment, with Mikey Hawkins, Tyler Trular, Tom Fuquay, and myself in tow. A motley crew, one might say. A band of misfits, maybe? A legion of dudes, yes?

So, we get to Gainesville with a pack of shitty equipment and 2 songs to record, burn, and distribute as an enterprise to punk rock. The guy recording us is apparently half serpent, because he is able to eat sandwiches like a snake. This man was somehow able to make a sandwich, unhinge his jaw, and swallow an entire lettuce-or-something-like-it sandwich. And while devouring this masterpiece, was able to record and mix for punk rock bands in his den.

We finish recording, all of us seem satisfied, and we pack up and leave. On our way out of this Gainesville Rock City, a mystical, and magical fog surrounds the entire outer limits. The fog is so thick that we have to resort to driving at 5 miles an hour in order not to run over any inebriated college party people. This continues for countless hours until we realize we are lost in the center of Florida, on a forest trail, surrounded by the mist. Once the mist clears, we realize that we are in the middle of what would be imagined in the Hills Have Eyes or Deliverance. On this dusty, off road highway, we stumbled into a community of rundown trailers, half of which had red, third reich flags flying in the windows. It reminded me of how the area between every major city in Florida usually involved a Klan rally.

-My second and third trips to Gainesville were marred by a she-devil trying to ruin my life with yelling and bad hair. The second trip started with finding out that I was going to be a dad, while the third trip involved much screaming and hatred. Either way, both trips began to run into each other, so I'll be giving tidbits from both combined.

There was a night in a hotel that smelled strongly of bleachy, chloriney sterilization. Unfortunately, it seemed that the entire room was coated in an oil that made everything horribly uncomfortable. All I can remember from that night was sleeping on the floor, Mike Andrews sleeping near the AC, Alexx being angry and someone snoring (I'm assuming Mike Andrews), Mikey crying about being afraid of the dark, and Justin having a tremendous beard.

After a horrible night's sleep, we woke up and decided that to cap off such a momentous event, we would have a feast fit for kings at the local Waffle House (which I will now never eat at any of these establishments due to a human feces event friends of mine encountered). Miserable and ready to drive home, we sat for breakfast at this dinky joint. Mike Andrews disappears for a bit, and when he finally sits back down, a song fills the room. Will Smith - Gettin' Jiggy Wit It. In a Waffle House. At 7A.M.

I believe there was another trip that involved Mikey getting mad (every trip with Mikey. Ever.). The question "What's for breakfast?" was answered by five 20 year olds agreeing on pizza at Leonardo's. This was followed by "Pizza!? In the morning?!" An accidental, angry commercial in the living room of Chad Smith's apartment.

-There was also the trip with A Game of You during December of 2005. Imagine being in the center of Florida during the winter. It's like standing in an icecube. And being in Gainesville is like being in a drunken college icecube. Either way, being in G-town with Andrew, Brad, Steve, Josh, Arthur, and again, Mike Andrews could be interesting. Apparently, the guy recording us does not believe in central heating during 25 dgree weather, so hoodies were passed around by all. At some point, I had to poop. Gross, yes. I wasn't able to sit down, because it was like trying to poop on an igloo toilet.

During recording, there were not lyrics, as far as I remember. There were parts with lyrics, but for the most part, there were rah rah raaaaaaahs here and there. If my memory serves me correctly, there were points where everyone in the room even said "just go rah rah rah here, and that should work." So, if you ever get a chance to listen to the A Game of You - Demo 2005, the lyric sheet is a series of raaaahs, grrrrrrrrs, and other gutteral, animal noises.

It's certainly an interesting place. Shows don't start until midnight. Leonardo's Pizza has awesome garlic knots. Watching a man eat like a duck and have crumbs hanging from his face while your singer's voice cracks like a boy hitting puberty can bring you much joy. But more importantly, there is a jukebox in a waffle house in the middle of a state that looks like a penis that will play Gettin' Jiggy Wit It at too early an hour, and make five or six 20 year old men giggle like babies.

God damn what a city.

Comrade Profile Part 4; A Day With Mr. Jecko Is Like Skipping Chapters, Only To Start Where You Left Off

Sitting in Mrs. Carpenter's sixth reading class, it hit me that I had never had a teacher so old and covered in moles (later, I ended up sitting in Mr. Dean's class, and he got the trophy for "Teacher who most looks like Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot"). This is where I discovered a common bond in a fellow classmate. Since both of us had middle part bowl cuts, we became friends immediately. This eventually lead to me trying to skateboard, horrible hardcore wrestling matches, a british queen hand puppet, and a good number of years laughing until neither of us could breathe. Introducing Mr. Austin Scott Jecko.

There are a few moments I hold dear when I think of this man. First, I will always remember sleepovers where we would spend the entire night beating the shit out of Patrick Gabriel with anything we could find. The famous "2 on 1" quote always sparked pillows covering the floor to model a wrestling ring, and Austin usually finishing the night with some high flying Luche Libre move, or some horrible submission that ended with Pat tapping out. It was always the same. Giant Manboy and Tan kid vs. The One Legged Wonder. We still hold the title.

Once all of my friends began skateboarding and getting into punk rock, I had no choice but to follow. I always remember thinking the girls on the hookups boards being cute, then Austin actually getting one for a bit. I remember sitting in technology class, and filming the skater kids in the class for 6 weeks, with no video to show for it (there is also the wreckage from what Austin and I built, the worlds fastes Balsa Wood C02 car).

High school was more of the same antics. Austin was sarcastic, assholish, and still one of my best friends. I always knew that a good time was had when we hung out. But after high school, we kind of went our seperate ways. Once Riley was born, I hadn't seen Austin in years. I ran into him randomly, and even spent his 21st birthday with him in a Tijuana Flats. But that was about it.

Then, I get a call from him one day, almost two years later. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he needs advice. It was like nothing had changed, we laughed about things that we would have before, and for some reason I am still the wise one in the group (although this may be up for debate by anyone, anywhere). And after I got off the phone with him, I lost contact again.

But finally, Asa was born, and I needed to meet this kid. He even had Austin's eyebrow. Since Jesse hadn't had a baby yet, I needed someone to start calling me Uncle Shane. So, I got persistent and finally got a chance to see Austin and his family. And nothing changed. Not a bit. His dad came from Tallahassee, and it was like high school, but with little kids. Even the incorrigible Mr. Tharp made an appearance, and that is when it hit me.

Nothing. Changed.

We were all different, and we had lost each other for a bit, but it was like waking up and realizing that your best friends, after all the shit, were still your best friends. And I hope it stays that way.

I know that this didn't really profile Austin so much as it gave an oral history of our friendship, but I felt it important to get this out. There is nothing like finding someone after losing them for so long. And to be right back where you left off.

A day with Mr. Jecko is like skipping chapters, only to start where you left off.

An Arguement Supporting Sterilization and Parental Screening

It is my belief that not all people should be parents. There are those who are physically abusive. There are those who are verbally abusive. There are those that believe that once a three year old finishes their pop tart dinner, they can have a brownie and a bag of skittles. But here are a few examples of why sterilization should be enacted for those who shouldn't have kids. Or at least a screening for parental ability;

- Two days ago, a woman came up to me and said this, word for word. "Did you know that Nostradamus predicted the swine flu? He also predicted that there wouldn't be enough medication to protect us from it and that it would destroy most of the world's population."

-Today, I saw a news report about a woman that tried to sell her son for gas money. The amount? $10.

-Years ago, there was a story about parents in a trailer who had a meth lab gone wrong. The entire trailer burned to the ground. The parents saved everything they could, mostly the meth that they had already cooked. They left their children.

- Children with mullets. Really?

- Brittany Spears. Y'all.

- There are countless stories about day care workers leaving kids in cars during the summer, forgetting all about them.

-A little boy shot and mutilated a robber recently. All his dad could say was "that is his hero shirt. He's allowed to wear it anytime." The boy found the gun in a drawer in the kitchen. The boy said he would take it out all the time to play with it.

- A local woman is raising her child with her husband. Her husband was recently arrested for molestation of a neighbor's child. She isn't keeping her child away from him.

-www.peopleofwalmart.com

-If you cannot cook a decent meal for yourself, then there is no reason you should be taking care of a child.

-Child leashes.

-Mikey Hawkins.

-ICP should never have existed. Neither should the juggalo mother, who is trying to sue the doctor she claims is "responsible" for her baby's death. She also failed to mention that she thought it was ok to take xanex and excessive amounts of alcohol during her pregnancy. It's too bad she hadn't been stillborn.

These are just a few examples, but I believe that I've made my point clear. If you fit any of these profiles, please proceed to remove any reproductive organs, because you will only do someone else a disservice by reproducing.

Comrade Profile Part 3; She's A Lady, That Mrs. Spiker.

I've never been the romantic type. I've never even really been the cutsey boyfriend type. There is rarely a person I deal with that deals with me. I'm a sarcastic asshole that rarely takes a thing seriously (please see future sections on Ann Coulter, religion, and my divorce). But behold, there is one person that not only does not take me seriously under any circumstance, but actually has me rushing to get home just to give her shit. This would be a Mrs. Callista Rosa Maria Berrios Spiker. Vamanos.

Whether it is a text message arguement about how I'm more in love with her, or me sending her cartoons drawn over my junk, there is not a moment that I cannot ruin for her. AND SHE LOVES IT. She stepped into a part of my life when I needed someone to keep me in check. and she does. And it is unfortunate for her that I am a manchild. It certainly takes a strong woman to take on two children, not just one.

But despite the bullshit I put her through, she is always willing to give me a hug that breaks my ribs, make breakfast, and find any way to call me stupid, retarded, dumb, or any other listing in the thesaurus under "idiot."

I have never met someone with as much character and personality as I have with Callista. There isn't a person in the world that can find humor in everything like she does. I have never been so enthralled by her creativity and her maternal personality. I appreciate the way she dusts places she can't even reach (generally anything over 4 feet). I love her cooking. I love cooking for her. I hate working out with her. I cannot wait to have a tiny brown baby with her. I love that her favorite music consists of ska and baby makin music. I love that she hates being tickled, and I hate when she tickles me. I hate that we are undeniably the cutest married couple you've ever met, but it is awesome to be number 1. She doesn't fart or burp. She was kind of gay for a bit. And I'm pretty sure she's got some sort of super strength that always ends up throwing me out of bed.

She's a lady, that Mrs. Spiker.

Seance Suddenly

You're lying in bed next to him.
His warmth is unmistakable.
You would do anything for him.
And he knows you love him.
And you know he loves you.
And it doesn't make sense, but it works.
You're rolling over to sleep.
A shortness of breath.
A clutch of the chest.
A flash of light.
Suddenly, there are sirens.
The view from the ceiling is unreal.
The neighbors are watching, wondering, mouths covered.
The night is quiet, aside from the crimson light cutting through it.
Emergencies can be so noisy.
There are hands trying desperately to bring life.
All hands on dead.
And it hits.
As you watch from the ceiling, mouth covered.
And there's a flash.
And there's a crowd.
And there's relief.
And he's crying, and he won't let go.
This is the first time you've seen him like this.
And you're sure he loves you.
And he'll never let you go.