What's happening, everybody?
This is Chap Stique reporting from the gorgeous, perfectly-climated city of San Diego, where everybody seems to be a character from Disney's Johnny Tsunami (a hilarious movie I watched when baby-sitting once).  Unfortunately, we go onstage somewhat soon, so this blog may be slightly shorter than usual.  Please accept my apologies.

So...guess what today is?  First of all, it's the San Diego Warped date.  Secondly, it's the day after the 1-year anniversary of my proposal to Sarah (my amazing wife).  Thirdly, it's three days after Crouton and Fatty's birthday.  Fourthly, it's the first day that we are allowed to sell physical copies of Dance or Die at our shows!  Woo hoo!  I had the privilege of gazing at our apocalyptic pose on the cover, opening up the glorious jewel case to behold the innovative disc, and perusing the liner notes to indulge on our lyrics and thank-you's.  I just got done signing some at the Skelanimals booth, and it was insanely exciting to see them for the first time.  Dance or Die has been an incredible experience, and it's exciting to finally see the finished product.  I think you guys will dig it!  I LOVE the artwork, because it looks like a prog-rock record, and I think it looks spacey and futuristic.

Speaking of space, we went there on our days off!  Well, kind of.  As you well know, Warped Tour is brutal (usually 12 days in a row of shows, then a day or two off...then 12 more...1 or 2 days off), so our off days are precious.  We usually wash our stanky space suits, grab some Mexican food and watch a movie.  However, this time, Soul Glow requested a special trip into the redwood forest. 

I have always been a nerd about nature, but this particular experience was like no other.  We drove into the behemoth of a forest, walked through monstrous trees, and sprinted around like wild banshees.  I've never felt so primordial before.  It was like another planet.  Nadaddy and I searched for Ewoks (to no avail) while Soul Glow and Crouton pretended to be velociraptors (I hope that spelling is correct...it's not a part of my daily vocabulary).   For some reason, whenever you feel insignificantly small in proportion to your surroundings, you feel slightly juvenile.  We all zipped around and felt compelled to partake in epic conquests with giant insects, dinosaurs, and robots. 

I guess that's why flies haul booty and zip back and forth.  They feel like little kids because they're so much smaller than everything else.  But then again, they are little kids, since they were most likely born a few hours ago.  Isn't that weird?  And they vomit when they land?  Whack.  By the way, the lead vocalist for Sky Eats Airplane vomited during his set the other day.  That was one of the most rock and roll things I've seen in a long time!

My favorite sunglasses broke today.  It was pathetic.  Nothing cool caused the break.  I was simply removing them from my ear, and they snapped.  Weak.  I wore them in the Dance or Die photo shoot (the dune shoot), and they looked cop-like and unnecessarily large.  I will miss them.

Gotta go get ready to rawk it. Take care, and thanks so much for all of your support with Dance or Die.  It's exciting for us to finally see the real deal!  Rock it,
Chap Stique

Take care... and rock out!

Heart Support has been nominated for an impact award on Myspace. The winner of the award receives a $10,000 prize, which would really help this organization to continue to grow and thrive. I'd really love to help them win this.

Just click here to cast your vote!

What’s going on, friends?
This is Chap Stique writing you from sunny Arizona, where the heat has successfully baked all of the odors of the band’s morning breath and unwashed dishes into a revolting stew of stench. To put it more simply, our bus stinks, and the heat has transformed the smell into a tangible mush.

On a more flowery, fresh note, I have received lot of inquiries about my upcoming wedding! Wowsahs, whoa, wee, and wahoo! The Beas and I have been dating for five glorious years, and it’s about dang time for us to tie that thick, double, no, triple knot! Details have been requested, but I have to save them until after the big day. No offense, but I don’t want any of the guests to read or hear about the draygon (spelling intended) that’s jumping out of our cake and breathing fire all over the floor while we dance to Ronnie James Dio’s "Rainbow in the Dark." It’s supposed to be a surprise. But I’ll shoot you a few tidbits of inside scoop when I write my next blog (how the floral-arrangements looked, what kind of food we ate, etc.).

Yesterday was a day off for Family Force 5, and we parked near a giant hotel in the beautiful city of Alba-crazy, New Mexico. I decided to go for a run (despite the frigid temperature and drizzly precipitation), and I was delighted at the amazingly epic vibe that accommodated my jog. As I ran along the side of the highway (stupid, yes...the only option...yes), I steadily approached a domineering, snow-capped mountain range that was enveloped by cloudy smog. It felt as though Smeagol was about to leap out at any moment to smuggle my iPod, which was blasting Muse’s foreboding song "Take a Bow" through the overcast atmosphere. Kind of creepy, if you ask me.

As I finished the run, I sludged my sweaty body into the 5-star restrooms at the posh hotel (don’t worry, we weren’t staying at a 5-star hotel, we were simply parking there) and waited in line. As I awaited my turn at using the facilities, a suspicious, flustered man urgently sprinted into the bathroom flailing his arms and yelling, "Excuse me, sir!"

I turned and greeted him, slightly on the defensive.

"How many miles did you just run?" He desperately implored.

"I’m not sure...I didn’t check. Maybe 2-and-a-half or three," I retorted.

"Did you know Americans breathe incorrectly?"

"No, but to be honest, that doesn’t surprise me too much," I politely replied.

"Most Americans have terrible foot problems because their shoes don’t fit," he urgently demanded.

"Oh," I answered, anticipating the sales-pitch of a lifetime.

"Ok. I saw you running, so I thought you should know," he nonchalantly concluded while leaving the bathroom.

It was a very "Big Gulps" moment (if you don’t understand that allusion...well, you should), and it kind of creeped me out for a few minutes. I waited in line for my turn to use the restroom (three other men nervously crept by as we were having our awkward exchange) and then walked back to the bus, examining my improper breathing habits and uninformed footwork.

I don’t think there’s a moral...just kind of a funny moment. Nothing profound...just something random that I thoroughly enjoyed.

In other news, my tux is altered, my cyclops toenail is back to being a bi-clops (which I think is a good thing), my phone fell in the toilet, and my bowling scores are back up to par, despite a drastic decline over the last month or so.

Oh, and my mom wrote this hilarious message to me...here it is:

"Hi, Mr. Derek.

Your dad went to a Rogers High School baseball game last night to support a young kid from church. Imagine his surprise when he heard them playing "Southern Gentleman" (?) over the loudspeaker. He told the people he was with that he was sure that was your song. They went up to the announcer booth, and sure enough, there was the FF5 CD which they said they use often!

Rock on!"

I just love that she said "Southern Gentleman" and then had the (?). Incredibly hilarious to me. My mom RULES!

Take care, and rock it like a bunch of champions!

What you be knowin'?

Please watch this video before you read this blog.  It is incredible:

http://ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/3794 

I am honored to be a part of this glorious webworld, and I cannot wait to hear about the amazing charitable progress that takes place through some of these blogs (I particularly enjoyed Cassie Petrey's shout-out to Lady Antebellum.  D.W. Haywood, or Haygrille, as I call him, is one of the most amazing people you'll ever meet...and he plays chicken lickin' country pickin' like a champion).

Speaking of amazing people, I am going to marry one this spring! Wowsahs!  That's right...a few months ago I got down on bended knee and popped ye olde question to my juan and only, and we are pumped about growing old with one another.  The wedding planning has been amazingly fun, but I must complain for a second: there are NO stores in the US that make amazing tuxedos or suits for people in my skinny, wrangly size!!!!!!  

Being far too concerned with fasion and attire (forgive my vanity please), I have a strong desire to try to look as suave as possible on the big day, and I am enormously frightened at the thought of wearing an oversized, boxy, business-man-tuxedo.  I look ludicrous (and strikingly similar to a teen in the awkward-stage) every time I slip into formalwear, because it is made for corporate executives that don't care about trying to keep up with Tyler HIlton's good looks.  

So I fruitlessly searched hundreds of stores (including the nice, upscale ones like Saks, Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom, etc.) for a bangin' tux.  After days of trying on humorously-large blazers, I stumbled upon a European store named Sisley that saved the day with an Italian-cut unique-looking, well-made tuxedo that absolutely rules.  I will most likely end up wearing this suit...but that's not the point (otherwise, this would be the most shallow blog ever).  The point is this:  I shouldn't have been forced to spend 3 solid days shopping at every store in the world before I found one suit that ruled.  EVERYTHING else was cheap, mass-produced, and made in a half-hearted manner (with the exception of some $3,000 Armani suits...but they still didn't fit me...or my budget).  

I feel tremendously sorry by people that don't take their careers and/or their art/creations seriously.  Granted, there's NOTHING wrong with wearing generic attire (in fact, it is perfect for some people), but why should so many companies mass-produce crap (clothing, food, furniture)?  I am not bashing mass-production...I am simply bashing mass-production of lackluster items.  I'm not sure what your perspective is spiritually, but I personally feel that creation is a form of worship, and it is tremendously important that we always do our best to make quality art.  If you decide to be a seamstress (what is the male form of seamstress?  A seamster?), then work your butt off at being the best seamstress/seamster you can!  If you are a doctor, be the best doctor you can!  I'm not encouraging us to put an emphasis on material items or fasion, but I am encouraging us to see beauty and inspiration in our work!  

I apologize for the rant...but I think we are often taught to view people as potential dollars, and that scares the crap out of me.  Instead, we should see people and hope that our jobs (music, service, products) can change their lives (the person that invented the Oreo changed my life)!  Whatever you do, do it well!

Highlights of the week:

1. Hanging with my parents at the smallest, most ridiculously-overpriced show we've done in ages

2. Learning about Radiohead's brilliant pricing strategy for the new record

3. Hearing that Gerd Leonhard has a new book (The End of Control...it's free online)

4. Filming the new Really Real Show (coming out Saturday on our myspace and youtube)

5. Hanging out with my friend Tom at Club 3 Degrees while Jonezetta rawked the haus! 

 
Take care, and rock it!