Man, am I tired.

But for good reason. Band spent all of yesterday at the UC Davis Picnic Day Battle Of the Bands (commonly referred to as Davis Day, or even Mothafuckin' Davis Day).

This year saw 6 marching bands from various schools in the area join in for the fun. If my hazy memory serves me correctly, the roster was this:

UC Davis
UC Berkeley
UC Irvine
UC Santa Claus (or something like that, feel free to correct me)
Humboldt State
Yours Truly

Some of the bands can be kinda lame (Davis frequently steals our songs), but all in all, the day is pretty laid back and lots of fun. Humboldt is pretty sweet, with their anyone-can-have-a-solo rendition of Louie Louie, and some awesome fire-jugglers. Of course, none of them have as much energy and enthusiasm as we do, but you knew that already.

The general idea behind the day is that bands will trade off songs, playing until they either run out of music or get bored, at which point they leave and everyone remaining waves them farewell. Cal was the first school to leave this year (also the last school to show up). The past couple of years have seen Davis arbitrarily ending the event after only some 10 hours of continuous play, just so they can go party or something like that. Man, if this is a battle, I want to battle to the bitter end. Whatever. It's still fun.

Some other highlights:

-Beginnings, extra-long version: All of the bands join with us for our version of Chicago's Beginnings. There is an infinite loop drum solo break at the end that anyone can solo on, and with 6 marching bands and lots of drummers, it can last a while. Usually 40-some minutes. In the meantime, the other sections (from all of the bands) are off doing fun things like exposing themselves in public, and slapping each other.

-Watching stupid people swim in Lake Spafford. I hear you can practically get syphillis by just looking at the water.

-Every song Humboldt played. Seriously, it's like a classic rock radio station over there. FREEBIRD!!

-Having random strangers ask for pictures with you just because you're wearing a sexy nightie and pants that look like they were made from the upholstery of a couch out of the 60's

-Being carefree. Most people agree that Davis Day is one day in the year that you don't really have to do anything. Just chill.

Man, Davis Day is sweet.

aw shit, get ya towels ready

Hey there folks, Shotgun here with an early morning bloggasm. Life/laziness has prevented me from doing a full recap of Honkfest, though if it's any consolation I've been feeling really bad about it. I just chimed in right now to say it's MOTHERFUCKING DAVIS DAY (this is the correct spelling), which for the wedged, is when the Band travels to UC Davis to be a part of it's Battle Exhibition of the Bands with all sorts o' bands from all over the West Coast. Highlights include hour long renditions of "Beginnigs" by Chicago and Line, an old drum, building stuff that everyone thinks is cool. All in all it's a wondrous day. I'll see you there, and if I won't, WHY AREN'T YOU GOING?

What a long strange trip it's about to be

Hey there rabblerousers, it's been long, too long since your old pal Shotgun filled that blog void in your life and in this exciting time to be alive no less. Unlike those past blog posts, which were more functions of explosive diarrhea shrapnel hitting the keyboard hard enough to for something semi-coherent, this one has actual content in it, so let's take the red pill and see just how far down the rabbit hole goes (I can't believe that movie's 10 years old either. Speaking of which, it's got a fantastic drinking game that goes with it, but another time).

BULLET POINT ACTION

• After witnessing the women's team assert its soul-crushing dominance over THE Ohio State University (a bit of a conflicting moment for this central Ohio native) and AN Iowa State University, the band gained enough experience points to level up to the Final Four in St. Lou. Those luckier than I can tell you what exactly went down. All I can tell you is that UConn's treachery even extends to the band arena where they paid off the "officials" to steal our rightful Battle of the Bands trophy that we had so gloriously conquered last year.
• Right after, and we do mean right after folks, came the lovely spring tradition known as [Insert Drum Major's name here]'s First Rehearsal. This year, the lucky victim was Byron Vosburg, a wide-eyed, idealistic charge who ascended to the not-podium with visions of working "Aqualung" deep into the night and hammering the ending of "Boogie Down" into our brains to the point of submission, only to be woken up by that shrill annoying sound that either was the alarm clock of reality or the altoz attempting to start "Peace of Mind". Either way, the Band takes the first rehearsal of a drum major to assert that even though (s)he may have some imaginary military ranktitle thing, it carries as much weight with the Band as it would on pre-Napoleon Animal Farm. And so the Band sallied forth a nexus of songs that was as seamless (and impenetrable) as a MacBook exterior. Also we threw pickle juice at him.
• WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POST FOR A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT. Hi there folks, it's Shotgun again, but this time let me be frank with you (preferably of the Ball Park variety). For those of you that actually still attend this so-called university, you may have noticed that it's election season. Now normally, election season is a time for ironic detachment, damning the man, and secretly wondering if the sophomore class president slate is actually more popular than you, or just more adept at making flyers. I know this blogger is too busy making trite analogies to past presidential elections and sports teams to actually engage in the process, but unfortunately in order to continue to exist, the Band must bow and scrape at the altar of the masses in the form of asking for special fees from the ASSU. And so I must ask you, the students and those still pulling an Azia Kim, to vote for the Band for special fees, and give us that glorious money that we covet so much, I mean so we can keep on rockin' out. Another beseechment, please don't ask for your money back later. Otherwise we'll track you down and make you explain to little Billy why he can't have his saxophone fixed after some drunk frat guy ran into it at Band Run. Just look at little Billy's eyes! You know playing that saxophone is the only thing that keeps his cancerous grandma still breathing. The more you know! *cue wooshing star* AND NOT BLACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGING (and no that was not a typo).
• And so I says to him "Wrecked him? Why yes that is the last part of the diges-oh wait is thing still on? Oh right, this weekend brings something of a rarity to the Band, a brand new experience. This weekend, the Band is road-trippin' it up some strange land known only to the natives as "Sea-attle" for something known as HonkFest West! HonkFest is apparently a festival for unconventional marching bands out in Mass. and last year the organizing folks must have learned about Lewis and Clarke because they decided to open up an ancillary on the Pacific side. Through a casual browsing of the Series of Tubes (or Tӧӧbz as the case may be) the Band stumbled upon their little shindig and thought we could find a home (look for yourself at http://honkfestwest.com/ You might see us right on the front page) and a few/lot of emails later BAM! we're renting vans and super-exclusive cliques are trying to claim their own. My brothers and sisters in the Band Members that Like to Eat PB&J Sandwiches Inside Out have already got our van (as we should, we're kind of a big deal). Will we be ready for it? Will they be ready for us? Do we all have sleeping bags? Is it a federal offense to drive across state lines without wearing pants? These are all questions that will be answered soon enough.
  

Until then though, I must bid you all adieu as my latest effort of procrastination draws to a close.


Oh, just one more thing. The Band now has a the Facebook page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Leland-Stanford-Junior-University-Marching-Band/79838435759?ref=nf
Go look at it. Be friends with us. Listen to music. Go through the track listing of all of our albums. Leave us threatening wall message. Just please drive up our page views for God's sake. We thrive on those almost as much as we thrive on Capri Sun.

How I spent my Spring Break

Some people like to spend their spring breaks doing crazy things, like going on cruises, taking cheap vacations to neighboring countries, enjoying nature, visiting home, etc. Not the band. Well, not all of us, anyway. We do airtrips.

The end of finals week and the beginning of spring break saw band visit San Diego for the first and second round of the women's NCAA basketball tournament. The women handily defeated UC Santa Barbara and San Diego State, using their mad skills to make it rain on them hos. Unfortunately, they were a bit too good at making it rain, and many band members who had planned to visit the legendary San Diego zoo on our day off were dissuaded by the inclement weather. Instead, some watched movies, some moved watches, and others cooled off in the hot tub. After the second game Monday night, we flew back with the team. We had a few days before our next trip, so some people visited family, while others of us just hung out on campus and played Rock Band.

Our second airtrip involved a busride to Emeryville. The women were to play at Berkeley, in the familiar territory of the Dirty Golden Bear. They decisively defeated Ohio State in the third round, and we were granted a weekend of hanging out and good times. A few band members explored downtown Berkeley on the day off, fighting their way through crowds of sketchy hobos and sketchier hobo-esque Cal students. I took the day to catch up on some reading and enjoy the free cookies in the hotel. Free cookies. Free. Our basketball team returned Monday night to trounce the Iowa State Cyclones. It pained me a little bit to see the team that I grew up with (I am an Iowa native, for the record) destroyed by Jayne Appel, but I quickly got over it.

We travel to St. Louis next weekend for the final four. It will be fantastic.

Edit: So I had forgotten the name of the first team that we played, and checked a bracket to remind myself. The bracket only said UC Santa, so I assumed Santa Clara instead of Santa Barbara. Go figure that UC Santa Clara doesn't exist. I should have just said UC Santa Claus and left it at that.

A Little St. Patty's Day blog action

As we all come to celebrate this holiest of days, brought to you by Jameson, Bailey's, and Guiness, (editor's note: When I started writing this, it was still St. Patty's Day) the Band thought it would take a break from its usual assortment of Capri Sun and Smash Bros. related activities to give you, the reader, a TOURNAMENT UPDATE.

To recap, the band came back from an adventure filled time down in Los An-gull-lees for FIVE DAYS. What could possibly keep the band in one place for so long? The answer is the two wonderfully sparsely attended, somehow still profitable, gloriously pointless but hey it gives us per diems so we're not complaining, Pac 10 Tournaments. The Pac 10 got the somewhat defensible idea that holding both tournaments, for men's and women's basketball, in the same city at the same time would be a good thing but then all of a sudden realized, but what if a school has both of its teams playing at the same time? What are the fans to do? Perhaps more importantly, what are the BANDS to do? Won't someone please think of the children?

Well it turns out that the laws of physics are no match for the will of the Pac 10 commissioner, and so the word came down from on high that the Band could be in two different places at once through some form of mitosis. And while this Band never had to undergo this assuredly painful procedure (it turns out the altoz are CLOSER than brothers) we did get to reap the benefits. Theese benefits manifested themselves in the brand new debut of Supervest Band (trademark pending) which may look like your average Red Vest Band but it's actually ten louder. Crazy. Southwest Airlines didn't know what to do when we boarded the plane with FORTY band members. It was like lightning in a bottle. Sadly it couldn't last, and though they were granted a stay of execution by virtue of us beating Oregon State (a great game by the way, and I finally got in all my Barack Obama-related heckles), the rocking out was just too much for the Staples Center and so 10 of us had to go back to pretending to study for finals.

But during those 2 glorious days for some and the remaining 3 days for the rest, what so ever did the Band do to amuse itself in the so-called Entertainment Capital of the World? The answer came largely in the form of trips to Disneyland (for some), and trips to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles (for all). Oh t'was truly a magnificent time. Interesting hobos were talked to, pointless e-mail lists were formed, midnight runs to taco trucks were made, other bands were cavorted with and made fun of, but perhaps most importantly, U$C fans were made jealous when they witnessed us rocking the fuck out outside of the Staples Center as the champeenship game got out. The band had time to kill so we did one of our favorite things, playing for people that don't initially like us but then do after a few songs. When we left the hotel at 6:30 on Monday it truly felt like an airtrip lived to its fullest.

Oh also, I would be remiss if I did not mention how fun and awesome it was to watch the women's team completely and totally roll through the competition, not even giving them their underwear back at the end, on the way to some number i forgot consecutive Pac 10 Championship. The Band can't wait to see more domination in San Diego coming the following weekend, though sadly this blogger won't be going. The Band had already maxed out the Funk Limit for the airplane and as such could not carry anymore. I will try to get the gory details though and cull through the curds to give you all the cream whenever that trip is over.

Also, it bears mention that the men played and won today in something called the College Basketball Invitational. The Band isn't entirely sure what it is either, but at least the team is winning in it, so I guess it's good.

Until then kids, remember: When you believe in things you don't understand and you suffer, superstition ain't the way.

Holy shit, it's March.

Hey y'all. I know it's been a lil' while since we started this ol' blog up and took it around the block but it's only because we've been hard at work perfectly crafting an extensive recap of Dollie Day and highlights of Tree Week. As the regular basketball seasons end, we start gearing up for that wondrous elusive thing known as airtrips. Making its debut this year is a brand new incarnation of Red Vest Band that I like to call SuperVest by virtue of both Pac 10 tournaments being in the same place (Some place like 400 miles south. The Band's never been there before though). Other potential locations include Los Angeles AGAIN, not that we're complaining though, and Berkeley, and St. Louis if we're really lucky for the women. There's another longshot though, and it barely even bears mentioning, but I'm gonna throw it out there anyway. If the men get really lucky they might make it to the Final Four, and in that case maybe the Band could swindle its way all the way to NEW YORK CITY. I know, it's a pipe dream, but is it wrong to reach for the stars?

We'll keep you posted on those events as they occur and worry not, the official Dollie Day/Tree Week (now press approved!) digest is coming.

Dollie Day has passed

and it truly was magnificent. There were roasted pigs, mudslides, and no casualties. I would provide a full recap right now, but I still sort of have a midterm to do. T'will be forthcoming though. So everyone keep their shirts on, unless your shirt was already off. I don't know what you're wearing when you read this blog. You're probably naked you sick sick person, not that the human body is anything to be ashamed of. But yeah. In the meantime, I'll just leave you with this. This is how the Best Sexion celebrates Dollie Day.


photo courtesy of Robby Beyers
pig courtesy of the Tööbz