• TalkBass has been independent since 1998. Add your voice.
    Create a free account to reply to discussions, view embedded media, and browse with fewer display ads.
    Join free Log in
    Want zero display ads or expanded classifieds tools? Compare plans.

What The $@#% is that smell?????

#81
GlennW said:
Not hardly. Women can out-gross and out-cuss men any day of the week. They're also much better at keeping secrets.
Click to expand...

They are not much better at keeping secrets.

In fact, I got fed up with one girlfriend once long ago and told her, "Your mouth is as fat as your thighs. Can you ever STFU?!"
She was an EX-girlfriend very quickly after that.

Note: She got pissed off like a big dog. But it was true, her thighs WERE gaining weight and that pissed ME off.
 
#82
MEKer said:
They are not much better at keeping secrets.

In fact, I got fed up with one girlfriend once long ago and told her, "Your mouth is as fat as your thighs. Can you ever STFU?!"
She was an EX-girlfriend very quickly after that.

Note: She got pissed off like a big dog. But it was true, her thighs WERE gaining weight and that pissed ME off.
Click to expand...

Better to be pissed off than pissed on.....:eyebrow:
 
#86
What The $@#% is that smell?????

This thread brought back memories of the worst gig of my life.

It was about 10 years ago at the worst dive bar in an area known for dive bars.

As soon as I walked in the place I was hit by the foulest smell ever. I mean the air was toxic. During setup it started getting to me. All of us felt ill yet the drunken bar flies apparently were immune to the stench. Did a quick sound check and wanted to go outside for some fresh air but they said it was time to go on.

Within minutes my head was spinning. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn't think, I could barely see. Every song was a struggle. By the end of the set the set I was having trouble just standing up. During the last song I looked at my hands and realized I was playing a half step flat and didn't even know it. Suddenly there was nothing under my feet and I went down on my ass. I had literally walked off the front of the stage. A good 3’ drop. Luckily I wasn’t hurt. Got up, sat down on the front of the stage and finished the song.

Staggered into the restroom to splash some water on my face and discovered why the air was so bad. Instead of urinals there was just a trough in the floor along the wall. The drunks had peed all over the tile floor never getting close to the trough. Everybody who walked out of the restroom tracked fresh pee all over the carpet in the bar. You could see the stained path on the filthy carpet leading from the restroom meaning this had gone on for a long time creating a smell unique unto itself. Couldn't go out for air because we had to tear down quickly so the next band could set up. I almost lost it several times during what seemed like forever to pack up.

I’ve been in places with sewer smells, normal restroom smells, full trash can smells, pretty much any offensive odors you can think of but none ever bad enough to do what this place did.

Oh yeah, the thing that cinches this gig as the worst ever: As I said, we did a quick, like two minute sound check. As we were heading outside for some air the sound guy comes up and says we have to start. So we go back on stage. With the first note the FOH starts feeding back LOUD. We look up and nobody at the board. He’d gone outside after telling us to start.

Yep, the worst ever!
 
#90
Girl gross-out? You asked for it. Jazz standards trio (bass, drums, keys) gig at country club wedding. Break time. Me & keyboardist head to the ladies room, take adjoining stalls. I'm in a skirt, get down to business speedily. I hear her unsnap, the pull-down, then a raft of hideous blue cursing as she snags her ileostomy bag with her underwear elastic and disconnects the seal. Stench. Heinous. Floor splash. Two sets of jazz to go. No spare seals with her, the thing won't re-adhere, her lower garments are splashed and unwearable. We lock the door, quickly mop up the mess with towels and hand soap and her slacks which we then throw out the window under a bush. I fetched my black load-in jeans from the van, which were too loose on her, but OK for behind the Fender Rhodes. We duct taped her bag and the unsticky seal to her belly as best we could. We made it through the gig. She was a trouper, a looker, and a hell of a good player, now playing bebop at the Great Gig in The Sky. :)
 
#95
good luck man, better yet bring one of these and stand it behind you aiming out, so you are in the nasal clear of EVERYTHING

[Invalid or Expired Link Removed]

seriously though, I NEVER gig without this thing. feels great and just generally keeps any and all unwanted funk off the stage.
 

Latest posts

Top Bottom
Back