Sex, Drugs, And Bubblegum Pop, is our most outlandish column to date. Written by Mr. Jayce, vocalist for Secret Secret Dino Club and all-round funny guy, this column isn’t as much about the music as it is the experiences people in the music industry have.

WARNING: This column does and will continue to contain content some readers may find offensive. If you don’t have a sense of humor, this column is probably not for you.

Taking meetings by: Mr. Jayce

“hakuna matata”-timon and the pumbas

In the music industry, once you reach a certain level, you start having to take a lot of meetings. Managers, booking agents, a&r, labels, pub companies, whoever, all want to go to meetings. Rarely has anything been solved at a meeting other than a free meal and a lot of free drinks. Someone puts it on someone’s card as if the bill vanishes into thin air. There are probably at least 100 (not an exaggeration) stories I could tell you about me getting too drunk at a meeting. But I’m only going to share a story about the time I got the most drunk I have been so far in my life.

I had been to about 3 meetings that evening. What got accomplished at these meetings? Beats the shit out of me. I had a cornucopia of liquids already and was now on my way to a rooftop party for young millionaires and successful entrepreneurs. I didn’t fit into either category particularly well. Everyone had a certain arrogance to them including myself, because that’s what the rooftop does to you. You are on top of a building and no one can fuck with you.

This was not a party where people were getting very drunk. There was an open bar with no bartender. To most people that means “ok, chill out” and to me it means “time to take advantage”. I honestly could not tell you how much I drank. There’s no way I could tell because I was pouring my own drinks and I was already drunk when I got there. I was never sipping anything, only drinking. While JP was being social, I had no real interest other than going inside and searching this guy’s house for food. What kind of millionaire doesn’t have food in his house? Or snacks at his party? I would offer to pay him back, but he’s a millionaire and I had one dollar bill in my wallet. He literally had a million of them.

On the kitchen table was a pizza box filled with crusts, assumably 2 or 3 days old. I asked the room of millionaires “Yo, is anyone gonna eat this?” and got no response. A little worried it was someone’s crusts from outside, I passed and got in line for the bathroom. I asked everyone in line if they were excited to see Santa. They were not. At this moment, I literally time traveled until we were in a cab on the way to my friends house I hadn’t seen or talked to in years.

In the cab, I sat in the back while JP sat in the front seat. From my recollection, they were talking about the diamond business. I was vomiting into my hand silently and respectfully placing it under the seat. For how quiet I was, it was a pretty shocking amount of vomit. I had filled my hands at least 8 times. Once we got out of the cab, I continued vomiting on the street and for some reason walked a few blocks barefoot. When I got to my old friend’s house I didn’t say anything other than vomiting in his trash can. It’s bizarre for me to vomit in a trash can, I almost always go for the sink. I’m glad I was vomiting though. There was one time before in my life I wanted to vomit and couldn’t. At that point, I licked some of Jp’s vomit he had left in the toilet. It made me puke, don’t worry guys.

I woke up the next day in quite a haze. I stared at a bagel with cream cheese convinced I would never be able to eat again. It was time to go to a writing session with some guys from Sweden and try to write a song. I didn’t have an everyday kind of hangover, it just felt like my body was very painfully melting. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. No amount of Advil and water could cure me. I was being punished for not eating the pizza crusts. I think I was hungover for a week.

If you have a rooftop and you have a party, please get snacks. And if you are having a meeting somewhere that is not an office, thank you. I’ve learned my lesson though. If you are going to puke in a cab, always have your friend distract the driver by talking about the diamond business.

On a side note, my band “JP & Jayce” just released our first single and you can check it out at jpandjayce.com. Sorry for the shameless plug!

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James Shotwell

James Shotwell is the founder of Under The Gun Review. He loves writing about music and movies almost as much as he loves his two fat cats. He's also the co-founder of Antique Records and the Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. You should probably follow him on Twitter.

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