All I ever wanted to do was be a god damn honest to goodness rock star. I don't know where you draw the line. Where you say, "Hey, this is it, boys, this is what we worked for." We'd gigged for so long up and down the coast. Every shitty bar with a drink special and a view of some cove. Newport Beach. Manhattan Beach. Santa Maria. Santa Cruz. Even dipped down into Baja now and again, though lugging our shit across the border got to be a hassle. We had fans, sure. There were chicks, sure. I could tell you some stories, but I think, maybe, I'd start to sound pathetic. I thought we had a unique sound. Sort of a Black Sabbath meets Seven Mary Three meets Cat Stevens once he became that Muslim dude. I figured, one of these days, we'd break out. Tommy would pen something with a catchy hook and Ned would come up with the lyrics and then BAM! It was just a matter of time. Though it never happened that way. Sure, we put out a few albums, had one of our songs on some shitty show on the WB or the CW network or some fucking afterthought. It was something though. Like you did that! Whatever. We're still playing those songs, though I get the feeling our fans would rather hear us covering "Whipping Post" and "L.A. Woman" and the like. It's all good. Beats going back to Norristown, working in Dad's pizza joint. We shared a stage once with Radiohead. Sure, there were ten bands in between us and them, but STILL. It was something.