Hey lobsters, it’s Pistol.
I am SO SORRY that I haven’t blogged you in like, six
months. Trust me, I did not abandon you
intentionally. I’ve kinda been out of
the country. It’s a long story that
begins with me blogging about Lindsay Lohan being an awesome female lesbian
role model, middles with a guy whose name rhymes with Bladimir Futin finding our
blog by an errant Google search, and ends with me in a glass cage in Moscow wearing
a pastel baklava. For the moment that is
all I’m legally allowed to divulge. Trust me, the less you know, the less
likely you are of being kidnapped and forced to eat perogies.
Me in Moscow.
It was so cold, I had to wear this to keep my face from freezing off.
Perogies.
In July, I was briefly released from my cage to perform at the Secret
Gardening Society Festival in Cambridgeshire. I don’t understand how they manage to get any
gardening done in all that mud. I’m not sure which was worse, losing my tent in
a muddy marsh of drug-fuelled teenagers wearing nothing but glitterpaint, or
being wrongfully imprisoned by Soviets. I think the fact that I willingly paid
for my own flight back to Russia answers that question.
Some festival pics I took with my iPhucker:
The stage we performed on floating in some mud.
This kid lost his
horse in the mud at the festival. It sucked.
But at least the burrito van had
delicious guac.
The good news is I am BACK in the UK.
And you know what? Jack didn’t even NOTICE I was gone. I had a whole
apology planned for my return, complete with a slowed down, heartfelt, acoustic
version of “Call Me Maybe” that I was going to perform for him. I walked into
the bedsit, expecting a tirade of tears and anger from my long-time creative
partner who I presumed had been in deep mourning due to my absence. After I eventually got him to wake up, I was merely
greeted with a “Where’d Santa go?” and a “Someone threw up in your sleeping
bag. It wasn’t me.” Whew! He had been
blacked out since Christmas and didn’t even realize I’d been away! It’s times
like that you have to thank the Lord Gaga Above for inventing barbiturates and
Southern Comfort.
So, “what is next for the band now that Pistol is back and Jack is lucid?”, I
hear you cry. First of all, suck it up
and stop crying. I’m back and you no longer have a reason to be sad. Secondly, to answer your query, we are
exploring other forms of media beyond the live stage. This includes a reality show web series for
your eyeholes and a podcast for your earholes.
To experience our magic you will no longer have to be burdened with leaving
your house and travelling to a venue that serves alcohol and is packed with
human beings. Get your P&J fix on the solo, and share it with your virtual
friends virtually. It is the future, after all. Or at least it will be once we can figure out how to press record.
I will blog you again soon to tell you more of my adventures and correct
opinions.
Much love,
Pistol Rubenstein-Obama
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