Kaite: Do you have tacos?
Rose's: No, we don't serve food.
Kaite: Do you have strippers?
Rose's: Ummm, yeah, we have erotic dancers.
Arriving early, the road warriors decided to hit up some KFC, a rarity in NYC. What they got was some greasy, wimpy chicken, as if the bird never got off the couch in it's life. Jell-O wings. When they got back to the club, the place was PACKED!!! (with ghosts). We found an old dune buggy behind the club. The show got pushed back just a little to see if maybe a hobo would come in and ask for change or a junkie might need to borrow the bathroom. Waiting for the guests to arrive, a few anonymous band members slipped into the strip club next door where they found Little Mrs. Droopy-Tit showing off her clit piercing WHILE EATING FUCKING CHINESE FOOD LAYING ON STAGE! There was also an old Tyson fight on, thankfully.
Eventually Sisters played and sounded fucking great. The Backstage bar has the best PA you will ever find in a strip mall, hands down. Coin Under Tongue played an abbreviated set so they could continue talking to this self-proclaimed "nice Satanist" who proceeded to shower the band with shots while dropping the bomb that HIS FUCKING WIFE WAS FUCKING SOME OTHER DUDE IN HIS CAR AS WE SPEAK!. He is currently employed teaching learning disabled people how to cook. You know the guy, there's one in every town.
Our CT allies, Total Bolsheviks, out-cut CUT by only performing 2 songs with their new accomplice, a chick in a creepy Nixon mask, spewing sheets of white noise into the crowd, much to the dismay of lesbian biker chicks at the front bar.
Some strange (or impossibly inebriated) girl got thrown out for accusing the bartender of stealing her drink. Greg yelled at the guy in McDonalds on the way home about not putting enough salt on his fries and then crawled around the van like some dude wiggin' out on acid at Bonnaroo, claiming "claustrophobia".