Oh yeah! It’s on. The Frontalot touring machine is back in full swing for a fall jaunt around the northeast quarter of the glorious US of A. Presently greasing the wheels at the world-famous Sturgenius‘s musical fortress in Holyoke, we are prepping for tonight’s debut gig at the legendary Iron Horse in Northampton. But lo! We did not simply materialize here. An epic journey preceded our arrival – a journey which I will now recount to you in harrowing, blood-curdling detail.
I admit it: I failed to live up to my promise. There was no tour diary entry yesterday. That said, there is a good reason: I’ve been having a @#&% blast! I decided to have my cake and 
ons! Vic-20 is back in the game and coming at you live from the Fairmont Olympic here in lovely Seattle, where I sit and rest my weary feet which have covered an ungodly amount of convention-hall ground during this first official day of the 
It is true. This is the last entry for the Frontalot 2010 “Zero Day” spring tour. Since I won’t have another chance to beguile you with the ins and outs of road life until we go on tour again, I’ve decided to go the extra mile and make this entry particularly insightful. Case in point: for those of you following my facebook page, you already know that we were tailed for an uncomfortably long period of time on the Pennsylvania Turnpike by a creepy Saab. I even took a photograph, though the face of the driver was indistinguishable. UNTIL NOW. Thanks to my friends over at the CSI NY labs, I was able to get the photo 
I am bedraggled and under-rested as I write this from the back seat of the van, so forgive me if this entry is lacking in wit and vigor. The drive to Cleveland is 9 1/2 hours, which required us getting up at about 7:30am. That’s like waking up at 4:30am for your office job. I will, however, soldier through this brief diary entry to get you the information you know you want so very badly, and I will say it with panache.
“Why,” said the sallow-faced, yellow-eyed woman in my dream, her face a contorted maze of wrinkles and betrayal, “have you not written another entry in your tour diary?” She clutched the 
The United States is a big country, full of wonders too numerous to recount. On our 2 1/2 day road trip along I-80, we managed to miss almost all of them. Aside from the scenery, which ran the gamut from breathtaking to bland, we pretty much saw only the highway and the occasional town located conveniently off the interstate. Oh, and the internet, which has kept us from going mad from cabin fever. It also allows me to blog directly from the van, which lends these tour diary entries that much more authenticity. The bits literally fly out of the passenger-side window, into the atmosphere, and then down through your chimney and into your rug, where internet elves package them up and deliver them through the tiny holes in your computer’s serial port. See? They’re 
As I sit here in the van about 40 miles outside of Portland, filling Vanna up with gas and listening to the saucy lyrics and thumping electro beats of 
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