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Thursday, August 24, 2006

How Much Do We Love Los Angeles?

Enough to take a little DETOUR from our upcoming Euro-dates to party with Beck (who happens to be Dyan's first-cousin and brother in-law), the Queens of the Stone Age (who happen to be the manliest of men, and not Queens at all), Redd Kross (who have a slight problem with spelling, but are otherwise stand-up guys), and many more of the best music makers in the world today. This is going to be badass, but without any of the badness or assiness. We're talking the time of your life.

Also, I'm extending the caption contest deadline till 9am Tuesday California time (that's 5pm Tuesday GMT)to give people time to sex-up their responses a little. Come on people! Sex them up! This could be your only chance to get your paws on the sexiest slab of ethched vinyl you've ever heard!

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler

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Sunday, August 20, 2006

Caption Contest; Snakes on a Plane

Q: Why was the Blood Arm's flight from London to Los Angeles delayed two-and-a-half hours at the gate on Saturday?

A: Because now, in addition to making sure passengers aren't smuggling lotion into the cabin, security has to scour the vehicle to ensure that there aren't any Muthafuckin' Snakes on the Muthafuckin' Plane!


Here is a caption contest. If your captions for the twelve photos below are amongst our three favorites emailed to by 9:00am Pacific Standard Time Friday (that's 5:00pm in the UK), then we will mail you a copy of the super limited etched 7" for 'Suspicious Character,' the first single from the upcoming Lie Lover Lie.

UPDATE: Contest extended till Tuesday, 9am PST (that's Tuesday, 5pm GMT).

The photos:

A sample entry might look like this:

1. Christ... What an asshole!
2. Christ... What an asshole!
3. Christ... What an asshole!
4. Christ... What an asshole!
5. Christ... What an asshole!
6. Christ... What an asshole!
7. Christ... What an asshole!
8. Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?
9. Christ... What an asshole!
10. Christ... What an asshole!
11. Christ... What an asshole!
12. Christ... What an asshole!

Remember, all responses must be submitted to by Friday, August 25 at 9:00am PST (5:00pm GMT). Our favorite captions will be posted here!

Good luck!

-Ben Lee

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Well Hung Black Meat; Wrasslin'; Annoying Whooping Noises

Whilst we are recovering from jet-lag, hangovers, and general post-London-partem depression, please enjoy the photgraphs and videographs of our dear friend Christopher Svensson. He is currently in Sweden enjoying some well-hung black meat, and we miss him like the desserts miss the entrée.

A full report of our last night in London and a synopsis of the entire tour will follow shortly in this very space. Also, more photgraphs.

Friday, August 18, 2006

This is Not My Beautiful House! This is Not My Beautiful Wife!

Perhaps my favorite part of touring with the Blood Arm—forget the fact that we are not really touring per se, as we’ve been rocking London for the duration of the week—are the what the fuck?! moments. These are the moments that make one say, “what the fuck?!” (When I type “one,” I’m typing about myself, okay? I’ve been told it’s more proper than typing “me,” or “you,” even. And regardless, I’m the boss of this page, so one will do whatever the hell one wants here.) There have been a lot of these wtf?! moments this trip.

Cases in point: Tuesday we found ourselves playing penis and eating day-old salmon souffle in Maximo Park’s studio with four Swedes and one French girl, and Paul from Maximo was wearing an XXXXXL Cannibal Corpse t-shirt… What the fuck?! Wednesday we used an arm-wrestling victory over Nick from Intoxica Records as a decisive means of crowning Bruce Springsteen the Best Musician in the World… What the fuck?!

Last night, however, makes all other nights look like little bitches in terms of its what the fuck-upedness. Let’s recount it all down—what one can remember, at least—and lay it to rest, shall we?

-We began the evening at a party at a photo gallery called Proud (which is not a gay bar, by the way… what the fuck?!) to see the dude from the Test Icicles’ new band. Proud has lawn chairs with photos of Carl Barat—who does not look anything like Eric Idle from Monty Python, according to Grandmaster B (who happened to provide the cure to my most recent case of writer’s-block)—emblazoned on them, so one could literally sit on his face... What the fuck?!

-After briefly losing contact with Zebastian and Zachary on Primrose Hill in the rain, I found myself being whisked away to a posh apartment somewhere in Londontown in a Sony BMG company car, which as far as I can tell, the Blood Arm have little to no affiliation with… What the fuck?!

-I awoke topless with a pink polka-dotted scarf draped around my neck. A framed, autographed portrait of Ricky Martin was staring at me. "Bailamos, Ben Lee," it whispered.


(let’s wait for this one, okay?)

What the fuck?!

-Upon returning to the Travelodge (our lodging of choice), Dyan and all of our belongings were missing from the hotel room, and the walls, beds, and ceilings were stained with red wine… What the fuck?!

(And this one truly knocked my knees out from under me, stopped my heart, and repeatedly kicked me in the stomach, albeit for only one comical photographical interlude.)

(okay, maybe two photographical interludes.)

I called Chalkie, tour manager of champions (us). Chalkie says, “we’ve moved to the Jury’s Inn up the road, come back and I’ll tell you all about it, everything’s okay.” But there was a tinge of worry in his voice, and I was scared. I walked up the road to the new hotel. Chalkie answers the door to his room, clad in boxer-briefs and a hand-rolled cigarrette, nothing else.

“Have a seat, Ben Lee,” he says, looking grim. I fear the worst. “Apparently the kind folks at Travelodge did not approve of my playing bartender in the bar last night, and they threw us out.”

But the empty room… the wine on the walls… what the fuck?

It seems Dyan, Chalkie and Nathaniel returned to the hotel with with four bottles of wine no means of opening them. The hotel bar was closed, so Chalkie hopped over the counter to nic an opener. While he was behind the bar, he thought he’d help himself to a pint. Then another. And another.

The Travelodge staff did not take too kindly to this. They threatened to throw the threesome out. But our cheery threesome believed their infractions to be smooth-overable. Nathaniel tried to get the staff back on the winning team by belting out the lyrics to the new single ‘Suspicious Character’ (which will be out September 18). Chalkie offered them wine and tea. The staff was unimpressed. They called the cops.

So, under the watchful eye of Britain’s finest, a beyond-intoxicated Dyan, Nathaniel and Chalkie packed up all of our stuff, managed to spill wine all of the entirety of their empty hotel rooms, and relocated to the Jury’s Inn........................

That’s a pretty-big what the fuck?! right?

The MacBeth is tonight. Let’s do it!


Ben Lee

P.S. Pictures from the entire trip will be posted as soon as we return to Los Angeles tomorrow!

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

The Blood Arm: Born in the U.S.A.

The Metro is pretty fucking great. Like, pour-yourself- a-glass-of-fine-red-wine-rub-satsuma-scented-lotion-all-over-your-body-no-time-for- kissing-no-need-for-protection-take-you-on-as-a-lover-and-your-friend-can- come-too, that kind of great. (The lotion must be checked-in and packed in the hull, it's not allowed in the passenger cabin, okay?) The band was on fire, and people brought me belated birthday presents. I could live in last night's show at the Metro, methinks. I'd have to make sure it had central heating and air-conditioning first, though. Also, a bathtub.

Nathaniel and I were led over to our dear friend Teri's husband Ben's poker night afterwards, at which we lost loads of money, drank too much, and totally snobbed out about music with our hosts. The pub we were at--the name of which I can't recall at the moment--is of the sort where persons are ejected for requesting Smokey Robinson records. (The Smokey Robinson ejection actually happened, though the booted gent requested the song sort of violently. The collective response by those at our table was, "Smokie Robibson? Come on.") The evening eventually devolved to the point where we were arm-wrestling to determine the superiority of one band over another. Billy Joel triumphed over the Stones and the Faces and the Kinks. Bruce Springsteen is the greatest musician ever. It was a good night for the USA, basically.

All this recent homosocial behavior has filled me with an angsty demeanor and a musky scent. I need more balance, more Woman in my life. Perhaps Dyan will teach me to knit soon, or my sister will bake with me... (Classy, attractive, well-rounded ladies are welcome to lend a hand in my re-feminization as well. Must be 18 or older to apply.)

I must run now... I love you at the MacBeth tomorrow night.

Ben Lee

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Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Maximo Buffalo

Somehow we've wound up Maximo Park's recording studio for the evening. There is a pin-pong table here, which our Swedish friends call a penis table. No shit. They also have food here, which should serve as further proof that Maximo Park is probably the best band in the world right now. Apparently Radiohead also recorded the Bends Here. Which is pretty fucking awesome if you ask me.

The show at the Buffalo Bar was wild. Runnin' free with the buffalo.

Am I drunk?


I love you all.


Ben Lee


Airports, London, Buffalo

Due to some potential terrorist plot to kill us all, we were trapped for a total of twelve hours in Los Angeles International Airport. This wouldn't have been a problem--they do have bars in the airport, after all--but we were forbidden to bring any lotion into the terminal. You see, the terrorists intended to take our lotions, those scented salves of freedom and prosperity, and use them against us to sinister ends. As much of the Blood Arm's killing-time-in-the-airport-rituals involve the application and spreading and massaging of sweet-smelling creams over one another's bodies, well, those twelve hours were painfully dry. Terrorists be damned, we flew out regardless.

Now we are in London, finally. It is sunny, except when it's cold and raining. The piano-and-vocal-only show at the Pelican last night went swimmingly, especially for Zebastian and Zachary, who were able to just hang out and soak in the groupies for once. (I kid. All groupies were totally focused on Dyan for the duration of the evening.) There's talk of doing this sort of thing again. Frequently, even. So keep checking the shows section.

We are Buffalo Bar-ing tonight, which I like the sound of, if only because it reminds me of Thin Lizzy's 'Cowboy Song.' Could it be the greatest song that mentions a Buffalo ever?

Yes. Yes it could.

See you tonight!


Ben Lee

Oh yes, please forgive the mess on this page, and rest assured it is only temporary. We're working out all the kinks as you read this!

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Saturday, August 12, 2006

Goodbye America, Hello More Promiscuous Motherland!

We're casting our Puritanical Roots aside and heading over to the fine shores of the UK (specifically London) for the next week. We'll be seeing all of you Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, I presume...

If you can't join us, and even if you can, check back here daily for exciting, partially-true stories and observations from the road from perhaps the most knowledgeable--though unintelligent--source on the Blood Arm there is.

Goodbye for now! Or, as they say in the UK, au revoir!


Ben Lee


Tuesday, August 08, 2006

New Shows Posted; Birthday Wishes

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Ben Lee, whatever can I gift you to commemorate this day, the 21st anniversary of your birth?"

Here are a few suggestions:

-Latex Body Paint

-Black Tar Heroin

-Stuffed Pandas

-A Wool Cape

-Black Pudding

-A Father-Figure to Take Me Under His Wing in the UK

-Playmates for Magic: The Gathering

You can also access my Amazon wishlist by clicking here.

Any or all of these presents will be happily accepted at any or all of the upcoming shows, including the freshly added, extremely intimate piano-and-vocals-only date at the Pelican in London.

Thanks in advance!

Ben Lee

And special thanks to GBOTBAAKATAFKAKB for the hearty birthday post!

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Thursday, August 03, 2006

The Blood Arm Preempts Global Warming with a Heat Wave All Its Own

Apparently, BBC Radio 1 DJ Zane Lowe took his new copy of 'Suspicious Character' and put it in the microwave on high for about forty-five minutes. Upon removing the dripping vinyl, the popular radio host said, "this is the Hottest Record in the World."

Click here for proof!

-Ben Lee

P.S. We will heat it up even more at the upcoming live dates in London. Come!

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