After my harrowing drive where I lost control of the road on two occasions, I pulled into the frozen town of Sault Ste Marie (pronounced Soo Saint Marie for some damn reason…stupid French language). The casino was easily accessible, if you consider driving through residential neighborhoods convenient. Strange. As I parked, I noticed next month the casino would host Bubba Sparxxx, Queensryche, and the Oak Ridge Boys. It didn’t make me less depressed.
The casino was as empty as the hotel in the Shining, but sadder. I got to my room and it was balls freezing. I set the heat at 67, which apparently was in Kelvin, because in 10 minutes I was sweating profusely. Who lives here? If you live north of here, you’re a sasquatch. Then I went to yon show…
There were about 30 people there when I hit the stage, but three really drunk pieces of “yooper” white trash were getting on my nerves. (Yooper is a term for Upper Peninsulares in Michigan) I started the joke I do about drunk driving when the skinniest ratlike carny type yelled, “I can’t drive!” Me: “You look like the type that I need to follow home, b/c you are guaranteed to get a DUI, allowing me to make it home.” Him: “I haven’t had a license since 1996!” Me: “Holy shit, do they let you ride a horse at this point?” Then he rambled on and I cut him off. I hope Bubba Sparxxx doesn’t have to deal with this shit. Then again, his brother with the flavor saver bought me a double tequila shot. Booty Booty Booty Rockin’ everywhere! Rockin’ everywhere! Rockin’ everywhere!