From Santa Barbara to Santa Monica, at long last! After eating some delicious thai food at a restaurant that surely wins the prize for "largest fish in smallest tank" and stocking up on cheap whisky, we were ready to rock the TRiP.

That night we played to a rowdy croud that included: Noble's family members, Devon's family members, Noble's fan club, and of course, those who'd gathered to see some band that included some dude from Porno for Pyros. Off the hook, needless to say.

Later that night, after much drinking, We all ended up in the usual sleeping arrangements, with at least one of us having no idea how we ended up there.

The next morning, after a quick glance in the nearby thrift store (who's parking lot we were hogging) for a cowboy hat for Ryan - still no luck! - we ventured onward to the bro-infested waters of Santa Barbara.

After being treated to a banquet of delicious meats, fishes, and side dishes, (thank you, childhood friend of Ryan's, for timing your pre-wedding party in perfect sync with our stop in your town) as well as a lengthy game of beach volleyball, we headed to the BIKO Co-op, where the night's festivities were to take place. Upon arriving, it seemed a bit unclear as to whether or not the BIKO Co-op actually KNEW they were to be hosting the night's festivities, but.. we made it work just the same.

During our set we were joined by a hula-hooper of fantastic skill, and photographed continuously by one Kenneth Tatro. Said photos can be viewed here.

After the show our intention was to assimilate with our surroundings, namely the party-oriented culture of Isla Vista, however, after a member of the overzealous local law enforcement made us dump an entire bottle of fine bourbon onto the pavement, a general malaise began to set in and I retired to the van for yet another sweet dreamless slumber.

After collecting all of our band members, clothing, and wits from the various corners of Santa Cruz we vanned onward to sunny San Luis Obispo. At the local laundrimat we were fed free pizza by some fantastically generous gentlemen, and treated to a viewing of more ass crack than we've ever cared to see by a not so fantastic uh.. gentleman.

That night we played three sets (!) at the Frog and Peach to a crowd of semi-interested nightlife enthusiasts who I think viewed us more as background entertainment than as the feautured showcase we truly were (fortunately, as we in no way actually have three hours of material, this allowed us to repeat as many songs as we needed to with no one taking notice of the swindle that was happening right before their ears). Their loss, we still got paid.. Drank the bar as close to bankruptcy as we could, and hightailed it out of there.

We crashed in the formation that is starting to become quite familiar: some with friends in town, others with hospitable townfolk, and others in the sweet embrace that is the back of the van..

Recording session finished, we bid ado to our gracious, tool-belted hosts and abandoned the uncharastically hot streets of San Francisco for the warmer ocean waters of Santa Cruz.

We hung out at Cowels Beach for the afternoon, body surfing (I broke my 2x streak of almost drowning, by not drowning), and attempting, unsuccessfully, to convince the locals to attend our show later that night.

We went on the Crepe Place, where the lovely female hosts treated us like the royalty we are (finally): stuffing us with gigantic delicious crepes, gratis, and in general providing us with excellent levels of service, some of which extended far into the night.

Right before the show started we were spontaneously metal ninja'd! For those of you unfamiliar with that particular parlance, it consists of a band of ninjas carrying guitars, drums, and adorable little battery powered amplifiers ambushing a random crowd of onlookers with a badass metal performance. Two songs later and they disappeared into the darkness -err, well, into their van.

For the show that night we were re-joined by the Hot Toddies, who charmed us relentlessly, again, with their super catchy pop and entrancing overall demeanor. We love you Hot Toddies.

After the show we all split into various factions, some of us ending up at friend's places, some getting cozy with the locals, some sleeping in the van, and others running from the fuzz into the ocean, bottle of Jamison in hand, and waking up in a motel room, in strange company with a mouth full of sand. We'll leave it to you to figure out which happened to who.

The illustrious city of San Francisco.. at last. We staggered into town Sunday and played an awesome show at the Rickshaw Stop. After first dumping our heavy loads at the apartments of various gullible friends of ours, that is.

And speaking of con-artistry, we've somehow managed to, at this very moment, find ourselves all alone in a giant studio full of expensive recording gear and vintage instruments. Elton, the head honcho at Light Rail Studios, being the incredibly nice and trusting fellow that he is, basically said, "be sure to hit 'save' when you're done.. peace! and i'm outta here.." and left us to spend the next 12 hours recording an epic hip hop masterpiece. That or drink all his rum. We'll see which pans out first.