The old metal jetta rolled into town around 2:00 in the afternoon. We checked in at Motel 6, the most fucking metal hotel at Progpower. We unloaded the beer from the car and drove down to the store to buy some luggage. And more beer. And motherfucking Yagermeister. We are metal!
After checking in and drinking five beers, we drove up to Bucktown to eat. We decided to go to Outback in honor of that dead manta ray guy, Jack Hanna. We apologized to all the waitresses, but none of them wanted to fuck us. Fucking whores. We drank about three or four red beers, but it didn't change our piss color at all. I always wondered about that. Then we went back to the hotel and walked to the Earthlink club.
The first band, Democracy, was pretty good but not really our thing. We like old school thrash and power metal with people not singing so much about Jesus all the time. I had about five beers during the set, so I was starting to get a buzz on. We sat in the back with our titanium badges and smoked, but we could hear the music fine whenever someone opened the door. I was confused because I thought the dude was a one-man show, but there were a bunch of guys on stage including DC Cooper from last year. It sounded kick ass if faggy keyboard false metal is your thing.
I was out on the sidewalk smoking and putting the moves on one of ProgPower's finest corsetted ladies when the second band started. Journey Maximus or something. They had keyboards too. Why do these prog bands have so many keyboards. This is metal, dammit. The guitarist had nice hair. I told the bartender that I once dated a chick with hair just like that. I think she was impressed. She wasn't Marta though, so I backed off. Don't want to shoot the whole wad on the first night. I stuck with beer hoping that it would somewhat dull the noise coming from the stage. Why do prog guys like guys who sing like girls. DC Cooper came up and sang one song with the band. I drank six beers during their set because it was fucking long.
The third band was Leatherpants. They fucking kicked ass. Troo metal. Three guitars and the vocals sung the old way not the gay way. I yelled Season of the Motherfucking Witch before every song. I sent my buds to get beer during this set, because it was one I didn't want to miss. They didn't play long enough. I only got to drink eight beers or six if you don't count the two I spilled on everyone walking by. I moshed like a crazed mother fucker because I could and the rest of the weekend was going to be pussy metal, arms folded, headbobbing, sit in the chair all fucking night crap because Glenn is a total tightass about people having fun. I kept asking for Season but they wouldn't play it. Some dumbass in the back yelled Freebird. I think he was trying to mock me. He was that fucker with the short haircut in the black t-shirt. I'm gonna kick his ass tomorrow night when I see him for having short hair. Since these guys were real metal and not posers, DC Cooper didn't ruin any of their songs with his crooner bullshit.
At the end of the set, I yelled "TITTIES!" so we left to go to Cheetahs. We decided to skip out on Circus to Circus. We went back to the hotel to get some more beer and our bundles of singles and some more smokes. Then we took the metal mobile down to Cheetahs. The ladies were fine, but the music was shit. Bunch of gay bar dance shit. Didn't these cunts ever see a Motley Crue video. We drank a few beers and had a few lap dances. We saw our buddy Nick from Redeemer in the club with Kyle, Progcock, and that preppy guy with the pink polo shirt under a hockey jersey. They looked like a bunch of fucking nerds, but I think they were drunker than us. Posers. They were trying to drag Nick away from some two dollar skank bag. Rich fuckers should stick with the wine. We left early around midnight and headed back to the hotel for the big fucking metal party. We sat up until 4 AM drinking Yeager and blasting the new Blind Gordon and Thunderclone. Fucking power metal! We were so shit-faced. It was so metal.
I'll have another report tomorrow night after the first night. It's gonna be another fucking awesome metal party.
Fuck yeah!
After checking in and drinking five beers, we drove up to Bucktown to eat. We decided to go to Outback in honor of that dead manta ray guy, Jack Hanna. We apologized to all the waitresses, but none of them wanted to fuck us. Fucking whores. We drank about three or four red beers, but it didn't change our piss color at all. I always wondered about that. Then we went back to the hotel and walked to the Earthlink club.
The first band, Democracy, was pretty good but not really our thing. We like old school thrash and power metal with people not singing so much about Jesus all the time. I had about five beers during the set, so I was starting to get a buzz on. We sat in the back with our titanium badges and smoked, but we could hear the music fine whenever someone opened the door. I was confused because I thought the dude was a one-man show, but there were a bunch of guys on stage including DC Cooper from last year. It sounded kick ass if faggy keyboard false metal is your thing.
I was out on the sidewalk smoking and putting the moves on one of ProgPower's finest corsetted ladies when the second band started. Journey Maximus or something. They had keyboards too. Why do these prog bands have so many keyboards. This is metal, dammit. The guitarist had nice hair. I told the bartender that I once dated a chick with hair just like that. I think she was impressed. She wasn't Marta though, so I backed off. Don't want to shoot the whole wad on the first night. I stuck with beer hoping that it would somewhat dull the noise coming from the stage. Why do prog guys like guys who sing like girls. DC Cooper came up and sang one song with the band. I drank six beers during their set because it was fucking long.
The third band was Leatherpants. They fucking kicked ass. Troo metal. Three guitars and the vocals sung the old way not the gay way. I yelled Season of the Motherfucking Witch before every song. I sent my buds to get beer during this set, because it was one I didn't want to miss. They didn't play long enough. I only got to drink eight beers or six if you don't count the two I spilled on everyone walking by. I moshed like a crazed mother fucker because I could and the rest of the weekend was going to be pussy metal, arms folded, headbobbing, sit in the chair all fucking night crap because Glenn is a total tightass about people having fun. I kept asking for Season but they wouldn't play it. Some dumbass in the back yelled Freebird. I think he was trying to mock me. He was that fucker with the short haircut in the black t-shirt. I'm gonna kick his ass tomorrow night when I see him for having short hair. Since these guys were real metal and not posers, DC Cooper didn't ruin any of their songs with his crooner bullshit.
At the end of the set, I yelled "TITTIES!" so we left to go to Cheetahs. We decided to skip out on Circus to Circus. We went back to the hotel to get some more beer and our bundles of singles and some more smokes. Then we took the metal mobile down to Cheetahs. The ladies were fine, but the music was shit. Bunch of gay bar dance shit. Didn't these cunts ever see a Motley Crue video. We drank a few beers and had a few lap dances. We saw our buddy Nick from Redeemer in the club with Kyle, Progcock, and that preppy guy with the pink polo shirt under a hockey jersey. They looked like a bunch of fucking nerds, but I think they were drunker than us. Posers. They were trying to drag Nick away from some two dollar skank bag. Rich fuckers should stick with the wine. We left early around midnight and headed back to the hotel for the big fucking metal party. We sat up until 4 AM drinking Yeager and blasting the new Blind Gordon and Thunderclone. Fucking power metal! We were so shit-faced. It was so metal.
I'll have another report tomorrow night after the first night. It's gonna be another fucking awesome metal party.
Fuck yeah!
Whacky.
