Matthew Warhol: OH MY GOD. Fuck that place. 507 Pub, fuck you!
Tiger Fawn: That’s not the name.
Matthew Warhol: It was called Number, Number, Number Pub in St Pete. You are a piece of shit. You should never throw shows there. Oh my God. You tell the story.
Tiger Fawn: Things were unorganized from the beginning. The person that booked our show didn’t work there anymore. The openers were too punk, so they got cut off after two songs. The guy just said, “It’s done.” He said, “Turn it down.” Then they played one more song and he cut it off. He played two songs and they left. These were the locals and they got kicked off after two songs. So I’m setting my stuff up and they said, “Hey, we’re going to need you to wait 20 minutes because someone put $5 in the jukebox.”
Matthew Warhol: OH MY GOD! Fuck this.
Tiger Fawn: And then afterwards, a bridal party showed up and they said, “Hey, we’re going to need to you wait because this bachelorette party showed up.” And they were like, “CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRSSSSS, you’re getting married.” So it’s fine. Whatever. I started to play and I guess at one point the someone goes to the bartender and says it’s a little weird. They call the owner and he’s like, “After the next song, cut her off.”
Matthew Warhol: They said you were too weird.
Tiger Fawn: To be fair, some random old dude came up to me and said “Thank you for what you do.” Frankly, one of my favorite demographics is old weird dudes who come up to me and love my shit, call my Stevie Knicks and shit.
Matthew Warhol: They need to front that money.