Shabby Road Studio’s – To Premiere “The Way I Do!”

They said it couldn’t be done…and so far we haven’t done it. But soooooooon! Yes, we will be premiering our new song, The Way I Do, right here on the Don’t Tell Betsy blogsite in less than 24 hours. (give or take) Get your hankies out ladies and germs, cause it’s a sad one. But, as consolation, we are offering one last round of laughs before we break your hearts. So here are some brand new pics of our recording sessions, expertly captioned by a sweatshop full of professional comedy writers.


Ellis and Big D. both spot a month old M & M in the carpet. This can only end in blood.


“It wasn’t an M & M. It was an old Teddy Bear’s eyeball.”


Kevin shows the band how he would walk down the runway, if he were on America’s Next Top Model.


Every time Carissa sneezes, all the dogs in the neighborhood stop mating.


Once, on a bender, Big D. attacked an entire busload of Japanese tourists that he mistook for Lilliputians.


“Idea: New names for band. How about Gramps with Amps or Grandpas with Guitars?”


When Kevin runs short of pot money, he routinely sells up to 6 pints of his blood.


“Maybe if I sit here and look as gay as possible, she won’t notice I’m staring down her top.”


“Ewwww gross! I knew those fuckers were staring down my top again. I just found a contact lens in my bra."


“Craig’s List. Singer available. Looking for bandmates who don’t just like, totally creep me out the whole fucking time I’m with them.”


“Rats! I guess I’m going to have to wear these glasses till I find my other contact lens.”


Absolutely nobody interrupts Ellis when he’s daydreaming about the tender white underbellies of penguins.


“Nope, I don’t see anything here about taking Viagra making your fingers go all stiff.

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 – “She Already Knows” Sessions 1

Fresh from finishing the vocals on The Way I Do, the band jumped onto a new song like we were the Pony Express and it was a fresh horse. (the imagery here, is really quite stunning.) But, as everyone now knows, if we’re recording a song, we’re also letting our “Inquiring Minds” fans in on every facet of the grizzly process. So, here it is, in all its unvarnished and brutal verisimilitude.



This is Big D., our new bass player. His head is so large, it was once occupied by protesting Berkley students during the Summer of Love.



Besides playing incendiary guitar, Kevin also does one hell of a “ I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”



Ellis suddenly regrets all the corn he ate as a youth.



“Craig’s List – Singer Available. Prospective band members must never have drawn a crayon bridge on their television set to rescue Winky Dink.”



When Ellis is not wearing his glasses, any of us can be the victim of his “Come Hither” looks.



Carissa worries that Darrell’s double chin might be contagious.



After two Zowie Brownies, Ellis decides to let the mermaids living in his cheeks hear our new song.



Oh God. They can’t remember which instruments they play, again!



“If that’s what I think it is, we’re going to need way, way more rubber gloves.”



Big D. tells Ellis a story about a land where every chair comes equipped with a donut pillow.



“If I don’t do this every five or ten minutes, I can’t find it when I have to go to the bathroom.”



Upon arriving, Big D. says hello to the rest of the band.



Ellis relives a hot date he once had with Senor Wences.



Kevin is often startled by sudden movements. Especially sudden bowel movements.



“Darrell’s guitar has a hole in it. Maybe I can throw up in there.”



Ellis knows one sure fire way to prevent anyone in the band from stealing his drum sticks.

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.