small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: The Doo Dads

Monday, August 27

The Doo Dads

Last week was a muthafuckin bitch so when Friday rolled around I was more then ready to go kill a few brain cells after work.

I had my mind all set on rude company, good food, cheap cigarettes and a bottomless Beam & Coke. So I headed to the Record Bar to satisfy a few of those carnal urges when my shit got slid to a screeching halt.

That was because as soon as I hit the door I was informed that the Doo Dads were playing an early show. And you know what it means when the Doo Dads play?

Well for starters it means that there’s no fuckin smoking during the duration of their show. Secondly, it means that there’s a special menu during the fuckin duration of their show. Thirdly it means that if I’m gonna stick around for the Doo Dads, it goes without saying that I have to be on my best behavior.

By now you must be asking why all the fuss for the Doo Dads and who are these muthafuckers? Well here’s the deal. The Doo Dads are a rock band and they play rock, but they play rock for a very special audience.

They play rock & roll for kids, and by kids I mean the little tiny Barney hugging variety. I’m just saying that if there was a kid in the joint old enough to be out of their Princess or Superman Huggies, I’d be surprised.

Now normally I’d be the first muthafucker to hit the door but I found myself strangely drawn to sticking around just to see what kind of shit the Doo Dads were putting down.

And oddly I found myself digging the Doo Dads vibe.

From what I was told, the Doo Dads are made up of cats from local rock bands that just happened to have kids, who wanted to play shit that their little crumb snatchers could enjoy. So thus the Doo Dads were born.

And I think it’s a great idea if you were to ask me.

First off there had to be at least a hundred little kids there with their parents, all rocking out to the Doo Dads, whilst knocking back the Mac & cheese and hot dogs.

There’s nothing that warms the cockles of my heart more then watching some old bar dog pay for his past vices by getting swarmed by his trio of grape juice amped little girls. And all he can do is sit there and smile while being climbed over and under.

Fuck, even I felt a bit of a paternal twinge and couldn’t help but feel the urge to run outside and knock someone up.

But of course I was scared to move since there was a literal sea of three-foot high people in front of me.

And let me tell you what, when you have over a hundred mothers and their little kids dancing and swinging and doing their own thing, even looking at em wrong will get you the stink-eye.

But I did enjoy myself especially when the Doo Dads broke into the “Let’s Potty” song and "Balls".

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


Blogger PGP said...

I've got to tell you man..... I would NOT be going there on MY Friday night steam blowing time!!

2:38 PM  
Blogger "The D" said...

I totally see what you are sayin' but what about all the MILFS?

7:56 PM  
Blogger Spyder said...

I would have loved to see you there! Who was more scared, you of the kids or the kids of you? Or did they see through that gruff exterior?

10:48 PM  
Anonymous Nuke said...

Jim Beam to grape cool aide. You are a better man then I if you can survive a mood shift that enormous in your Friday night plans.

Congratulations on not only surviving but finding something to enjoy in the situation, And thanks, as always, for an interesting read.



10:17 AM  
Blogger Logtar said...

This just sounds creepy in so many levels.

3:34 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Mr. Death's Door... I heard you come in bitching while we were setting up and was blown away to see you still there when we were breaking down. I've never heard anyone so pissed off about The Doo-Dads playing before. Sorry you couldn't smoke for two hours but at least you could still drink at the bar. Thanks for sticking around and giving the music a chance. Doo-Dad Matt

9:37 AM  

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