Shabby Road Studios - "She Already Knows" Sessions #2

Shabby Road Studios is back in action and heaven help those who try to stand in its way! Yes, you get blow by blow action of every second of our recording process. Nothing is left out. You are there whether you like it or not, through the sweat the strain and the pain. You’ll feel so close to the birthing of this song that you’ll beg for spinal drugs.



It is simply impossible to make Kevin smile when the band runs out of Efferdent.



Big D. tells Ellis about the time he was forced to eat a human hand when he ran short of Raisinets during a double bill at the El Capitan.



Every rehearsal, at precisely 8:00, Ellis puts his hand over his heart and faces Wavy Gravy’s house.



“Did that fall out of you or me?”



Carissa tries to imagine what all those tubes of stuff in Darrell’s medicine cabinet could possibly be used for.



“What is wrong with this new guy?” That’s the second time I’ve caught him looking at his music and not my ass.”



Kevin is slowly realizing that there’s more to life than entering Jack Cassidy look-a-like contests.



It took three bottles of Nyquil and a fist full of Zyrtec, but Carissa now feels Fan-fucking-tastic!



Big D. is sure he can hear tribal elders shoving live ducks into the muddy walls of an Apache sweat lodge.



“I can’t stand it anymore!! What is that wretched, disgusting, deafening gurglily-slurpy noise?”



“MMMMMMMMM Soup!!!”



“You know, even completely shitfaced drunk, these guys don’t look good to me.”



When called upon, Ellis can hit a D above high C in his pants.



Carissa shows why she no longer dates musicians.



Before joining Don’t Tell Betsy, Ellis played the bass drum in the Middle Earth Hobbit Marching Band.



Carissa loves it when Big D. laughs and all the records fall out of the shelves.



Ellis looks on wistfully and remembers his last birthday.

Shabby Road Studios meets Sanctuary Entertainment

With Shabby Road Studios convalescing from the savage onslaught of non-stop Don’t Tell Betsy sound barrages, Kev, Darrell and Carissa dropped over to Sanctuary Entertainment to lay down some vocals that would make the very angels in heaven weep.
Barry couldn’t have been happier to see us.



“Dear Facebook: Well, those assholes I told you about are here and complaining already. I swear, it takes every ounce of energy I have not to set them on fire.”



Darrell was very unhappy to find only 38 cents and a tube sock in the couch cushions.


“Can you imagine son, if all these records were donuts? I mean they’ve got holes in them and everything. And the gold records would be butterscotch donuts. Mmmmmm! What a scrummy world if would be!”



Jesus Christ! They’re stoned again. So, it’s only a matter of time before they try taking off their pants.



No. You’re wrong. I’m only taking off my shoe because my foot itches. Honest!




“If they sing Barnacle Bill the Sailor one more time, I will fucking flay those drunken fucks.”




Kevin and Eric wait ever-so-patiently for Carissa to bend over.




“Exactly where do a man’s ass cheeks go, when he turns 50?




“Uh-oh. Seepage.”




“I should really go soak these in Lysol."



Darrell goes off to the bathroom and Carissa realizes she’ll only have to put up with one of them for the next two hours.




“Carissa, look into my strange and hypnotic eyes, Carissa. I possess all the powers of Mandrake. You are helpless....I'm over here”




“I do not know my own mind, Oh, Great One. I am only alive to do your every bidding.”




“What the hell kind of a song is this? Half of these musical notes are penguins fucking.”




“You see son, if you hold it with your hand like this, you don’t even need that screw I accidentally swallowed.




“If stupid was glue, those two schmucks could wallpaper New Zealand.”



Kevin looks as happy as a man can be when he’s peeing into his own Nikes.



“Any moron can see this is a peacock feather. I can’t believe Darrell thought it was an one-eyed alien hooker.”




“Ewww. That’s the second squishiest thing I ever sat in.”




“Every time I see you with that beard, I get a craving for Kentucky Fried Chicken.”




"Seriously, have you noticed that these guys are about a thousand years older than you?"




“She’s now deep inside the bowels of my recording booth…and it’s time that I put my secret and oh-so-evil plan into action. Bwa-ha!"




As soon as Carissa closed the door, Barry pulled a secret and oh-so-evil lever that started to transport her to a “Woman Auction” in the Andromeda Galaxy. Kevin was able to wrestle our engineer to the ground and Darrell hit the stop button. Luckily, she only lost a toe on her left foot and a small piece of her ass, which she said she didn’t mind.




“Hey, so sue me. They pay a lot of money for broads in Andromeda.”




“Wow! I think that bastard Barry is wearing my legs. How am I gonna get home?”



After 15 Crantinis, Carissa is a member of the best guys of a band in the world and stuff.


Because Barry is a really good guy, we must categorically state that none of the captioning to his pictures is in any way correct and does not in any way represent the very business-like way that Mr. Fasman comports himself.
And I would like also like to state, without fear of contradiction, that Mr. Fasman has never sold anyone to Andromeda. Thank you and goodnight.

If you are in need of a quality recording studio in the Los Angeles area, Barry's website is
www.myspace.com/bfasman
Mr. Fasman was also the Producer of the Year in Great Britain (1982)
He can be contacted at:
bfasman@shelterfromthestormrecords.com.

Shabby Road Studios - "The Way I Do " Sessions #4

The tension really builds on Gilligan’s Island and Ginger snaps….but I digress.
Don’t Tell Betsy were back at it last Tuesday at Shabby Road Studios and it was not very pretty. In fact, except for Carissa, nothing about the group is very pretty. But, where as most of those other asshole bands (U2? Metallica?) wouldn’t let you within a hundred miles of their creative process, This asshole band puts you at the heart of it. Before this song is birthed, you’ll live and breathe its highest joys and painfullest pains. You’ll be deafened by its labor screams. Perhaps you could be persuaded to pay for some of its medical costs? But, be warned, this song is comin’ at you like a freight train. If it’s like an Amtrack freight train, it may never get there, but then again, it might!



17 hours later, Ellis’ Preparation H, finally starts to take hold.



There really is nothing like a neck-high steel partition to keep the rest of the band away from our singer.



Ellis does the absolute best gay pirate impression in the free world.



Kevin just realized how old he is.



Nothing pleases Gregg more than beating everyone else to the last NutRageous Bar.



Ellis recreates his audition for “Brattleby, The World’s Saddest Boy Scout”.



"This reminds me of a blind date I once had with one of the Blue Men."



When all else fails, Ellis has to push the blood up his neck and into his brain by hand.



“Even on my worst, most shittiest day, I’m going to look like Eva Mendes next to these geriatric fucks.”



Ellis still hasn’t forgiven Gregg for eating the last NutRageous Bar.



“I will not look at Carissa’s ass. I will not look at Carissa’s ass. What’s that in my peripheral vision? Oh Fuck! I will not look at Carissa’s ass."



“Yep, the guys have been licking my microphone, again!”



“Half! That’s all I wanted. Last week you ate all the Twizzlers!”



“No Kevin, you’re not selling my mic stand for pot. Let go!”



“I found this little bit between my teeth. Three bucks or I wash it down with the last of my Long Hammer.”



To pass the time between songs, Kevin likes to perform unlicensed dentistry on the rest of the band.



If no one tells Ellis the rehearsal’s over, he will stand like this for days.



“So I said to the traffic cop, “If you think this is drunk, you should have seen me last night!”



“You see, I can touch it, of course it instantly kills anyone over the age of a million.”



This is Don’t Tell Betsy saying, “Please remember to drink responsibly.”