Once again, I've had people question why I have this blog, because you know, no one wants to date someone who posts their diary on the Internet for all to read. First of all, I realize not many are used to someone straight forward with their opinions, past history, and risque experiences. But, you know what? The things I post on here are about people I don't have any contact with anymore. They're a bunch of "life lessons" or "oops" in my world and why not make light of shitty situations and learn? So no, I don't post every single thing about my life that I've experienced, I don't post about the guy I went out with on a date a few weeks ago that was a lovely time or the amazing night I had with a bunch of my friends for a girl outing, because you know what? I like to keep some things private, have my own personal diary at home. Because every girl has to have a little mystery about her.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I thought about what I could write for this blog entry. What were some other screwed up experiences I have had that could qualify as some what interesting or warped to get someones attention. My first instinct was to write about my first gyno appointment ever and the gynecologist ending the exam with "you have a very pretty vagina" and asking me to put a condom on a fake 9 inch penis for practice since I was a virgin at the time. Or perhaps when I decided to make my mother a dating profile online without her knowing and having an old teacher of mine write some risque emails to her. Or I even thought about going as far as my first, crazy, almost fight in the girl's locker room. (No, there was no removal of shirts while fighting, you sick-os.) But, I decided those stories are possibly more entertaining when I tell them in person...with wine involved, of course. So, I settled for this one instead...
Out of my group of friends, I have always been the one to go for someone older when it came to dating or just something casual. Even when it comes to my celebrity crushes, I have Ted Danson and John Cusack as my top two. Actually now that I think of it, I don't think I was ever with someone younger than me. Ever. Ugh. Never mind. I take that back. 23rd birthday party, jello shots, pudding shots, liquor, and a 19 year old cutie pa tootie with a deer tattoo on his back....not proud. At all. That will be another potential blog entry I'm sure. But anyways, older men and me seem to always happen. Now, I'm not talking about grandfather clocks but more like the male version of a cougar...So I guess a manther? Yes, a manther.
The majority of you would probably know the band the "manther" is in but couldn't name any of the members.(Isn't that how it always goes? I dare you to name all the band members from The Police.) In fact some of you may be going to his upcoming concert. No, it's not someone as big as Tommy Lee from Motley Crue. However, he likes to think he is.
We'll call this manther...Tim. Tim had contacted me a nice little message on myspace when it was cool. Which seems like a century ago. You know, it was right around the time that Justin Beiber didn't even exist on the pop charts and Charlie Sheen was a "family man." Anyways, we had some mutual friends that were involved in the record industry and he thought he would just say "Hello." Well I wasn't that impressed by the "Hello" message. I mean, put a little effort into it, dude. At least add in a "How are ya" So, I responded with one word back..."Hey"
Well, after the increase of words in our messages happened, the invite to text him did. Before I knew it the invite to hang out with him when he came to town followed and me living in a boring rinky dink town, I naturally RSVP ed "Duh, of course." I mean what was I going to do on a Thursday night besides brush my hair and watch Sex and the City?
Unlike other episodes I had with people in the music industry, this didn't leave me tossing and turning with excitement the night before. To put it plain and simple: I dug his music and that was it. Who wouldn't want to hang out with someone that they respected as a musician and owned a few of their CD'S that they sometimes jammed out to? However, his age was up there, like 20 years older than me up there. So, when I say Cd's, I really mean vinyl records or 8 track tapes.
But, don't get me wrong he was attractive for his age. Very attractive. In a warped "I was in an '80s band and wore snake skin pants and lipstick" kind of way. Still there were women my mother's age who would flash their less than perky tits at the sight of him if given the opportunity.
The day of our meeting started off with a 7 am text that said: "Watz gudd?" I looked at my phone in a sleepy matter, sighed and thought that this was going to be an interesting day and it hadn't even started yet. My response? "Obviously not your spelling." I was depicted as feisty by him and he continued to text random nonsense since he was bored on the road.
I didn't understand where the "young ghetto" talk came from, since he never wrote like that in any of our past emails or texts. I was hoping some roadie had stolen his phone for a day. Forget the hoping, I prayed.
After getting dolled up and taking the tag off my new off the shoulder black dress, I was ready to head down to the city with my friend Amber.
Walking downtown is always an eventful time, especially when it starts to get dark outside. Coming from a girl who works in the city, when the sun goes down the free Jerry Springer show in person starts. I've seen a woman arguing with another woman with no teeth and pulling out her scrunchie and throwing it into city traffic, a woman arguing with thin air and then hitting herself and a homeless man taking a shit on the sidewalk and yelling at passerbys for disturbing him. You see some crazy stuff when working in the city like I do. There's always a story to tell when you get home.
But in this instance, on the way to the venue, we see this guy who was obviously drunk or high on something. I was looking on the bright side of things and was hoping it was just life. I was guessing he was homeless but it wasn't point blank obvious.No sign nearby labeling his situation. But he was toting an impressive beard that had either powdered sugar or cocaine on the tip of it. I wasn't planning on getting close enough to smell it and find out.
So, Amber and I are strolling along and I noticed he is standing right in my path, so naturally I move so I am able to go around him. He moves again making it so he's in my path once again. A homeless powdered sugar eater or not, I'm going to say something. I was not in the mood to start two stepping with a stranger.
"Excuse me" I said politely.
Nothing.
"Umm, excuse me."
Nothing.
All of a sudden he hands me a religious pamphlet that says "Where is Jesus in your life?"
Well, my guess is playing "go fish" with Waldo and Carmen San Diego but I haven't really put out a search party for him.
So, I accepted the pamphlet and forced a some what smile, hoping he would then move aside.
It was a good 5 seconds before he spoke anything and then word vomit just came out of him...
"Your friend is dressed like a fucking whore."
I was speechless, which doesn't happen very often. I mean, it's a rock concert and it's backstage. So, dont tell me you would wear a turtle neck and pajama pants to this event.
He pissed me off to say the least. So, I barged through him and grabbed Amber's hand only to respond with "Yeah, your mother had a garage sale on her clothes. Tell her thanks."
The moment that followed my smart ass comment was the only time I ever had a somewhat empty beer can thrown at my head. A Coors light can to be exact. So, not only did this man have a powder substance on his beard and had the scent of Ritz crackers and peppermint patties on his body, he also was a crappy beer chooser and just wasted cashing the can in for ten cents. I still win, Mr. powder puff.
After Amber, me, and my beer smelling hair arrived at the side doors, I began to text Tim to let him know we were there. Before I could hit send on my phone, a man who looked like a combination of Jesus and Bernie Mac appeared out of nowhere. I normally would have been scared with someone coming out of nowhere like that, but the word 'security' was printed big on the front of his tight fitted shirt and for some reason made it okay for him to be right in my face and invading my personal space.
"Are you here for Tim?" He asked.
"Um yeah." I responded wondering if he was going to ask for my name to check it off or something. But, he didn't.
"He told me you would be here around this time. Can I look in your bag?"
I looked at him funny and thought it was odd. I mean I was used to getting my bag searched when I went to a concert through regular doors but when I was heading backstage there was never a time I was patted down...well, for security reasons anyways. ...kidding. :-)
So, I opened my bag. I'm sure he was looking for a gun, a knife or some kind of weapon. What was I packing? A library book, my phone, lipstick, a slinky, my birth control, and my camera.
Honest to god, I do not know where that slinky came from. Jesus Mac stared at me like I had seven arms. I'm sure he doesn't come across a library book and a slinky too often. Here's hoping he thought "Well gee whiz, she's smart AND fun."
After the bag check was complete we headed behind the stage and the show began.
It was a kick ass show. All three hours worth.
Two encores later, Jesus Mac came up to us and said we could wait in the dressing room if we would like.
Sure, why not? I thought. It beats being tricked into sitting on a speaker and someone turning the music way loud. Me and my vagina are never falling for that one again.
So, there Amber and I are in the guy's dressing room, where it smells like a typical changing space for men...like ass.
After sitting there for a good 20 minutes, the guys began to arrive.
With introductions from everyone Tim was still missing.
And then I heard someone in the hallway yell "We need more beer in the fridge." ...I'm sure there was still quite a bit left in my hair if that person would have liked to have taken a whiff until the beer arrived.
Enter Tim. Big teased haired, short man, tight pants, Tim.
Amber being the smart ass she was, whispered "You and him must go to the same hair stylist."
Tim walked right over to me and I stood up. First instinct: Take off the heels, Hotto, take off the heels. You look like the jolly blonde giant next to...well, tiny Tim. (I'm awful, I know.)
We gave each other a hug, well it was more like his head embracing my twins from where his noggin landed. Oh, the perks of being a shortie.
Small talk and thank yous for the invite and for attending were exchanged and then the discussion of the after party in their hotel that was going to happen later. Now this wasn't a three person party from what I understood at the time. I made sure of it. The band, roadies, managers, friends, and others were going to be attending. It sounded like a fun time. So, off we went.
Tim's band had a whole floor of the hotel bought out for complete privacy. There were hotel rooms for drinking and each guy had their own room for sleeping or whatever activities they chose to do. You know, probably playing board games or putting on a puppet show.
Amber and I made a pact before hand, no matter what, do not leave the other's side. Well, I knew that pact was going to be broken as soon as Amber met their drummer, Frank. (Doesn't anyone take a pinky promise seriously anymore?) Therefore, I was left alone with tiny Tim. Why can't girls learn to control that little voice from their vagina telling them to "go for it?!" Amber was not a favorite of mine at the time.
Tim decided he needed to get out of his sweaty clothes from the show and wanted to head back to his room for a quick and innocent change. I agreed to come along.
(Okay before I continue, I now understand the predicament I put myself in by going in his room alone. A lot of bad stuff could have happened, but I was younger and obviously know better now.)
So, we arrived in room 4122. (Don't ask me how I remembered that. I remember useless shit but can't remember where South Dakota is located on the map.) I immediately walk to a leather chair in the living room and sit, in my warped mind this would give him the clue that I was not planning on any hanky panky that night.
He headed straight to the bathroom and said he wouldn't be long.
"What to do? What to do?" I thought.
So, I turned the gigantic television on. Of course there was nothing on, so I left it on some biography show on Katie Couric, even though she strangely annoys me.
Near by the leather chair there were various magazine looking booklets and me being the curious Georgette I was, picked them up and looked at them.
They were photo collage's of Tim's band through the years, most of them being from the 1980s. My eyes automatically focused on the guy's attire and girly fashion. I decided to cut them a break, remembering the time period. In the middle of a thought about one of the guy's leather pants, I heard the bathroom door open and there was Tim. Naked as a freaking jay bird.
Houston we have a problem.
"Okay" I thought to myself, "the door is not locked, so you could leave if you wanted to but maybe he doesn't have any intentions sexually, so just act like this is normal, hotto."
...yeah right.
I turn my head and force my eyes to watch Katie Couric on television and I hear his footsteps coming closer to the leather chair and his bare ass is sitting on the arm chair to the left of me. Really, my first thought should have been "What is he going to do?" But no, I'm of course different..."I hope housekeeping cleans this chair for the sake of your bare ass."
There was silence in the room besides the TV informing the viewers that Katie was a cheerleader and runner in high school.
I had to say something. So I did, quite a bit actually..."Ugh, I don't like Katie Couric. She seems to be a snot and a half when it comes to interviewing people. I think I would rather watch a biography on Oprah and I don't like Oprah either. Yeah, she does great things for people and gives everyone a car, but I had a friend that worked for her and she said that Oprah treats her employees like shit but not as bad as David Lee Roth tips from what I understand. My boss when I was a hair dresser slept with David Lee Roth but I didn't find out about that whole tipping thing from her, I heard it on the radio. But, she said David Lee Roth was a fun guy. I used to love listening to Van Halen and now I'm tired of them. I preferred when Roth was the lead singer and not Hagar. But, I think I like Motley Crue a little bit more. I love everything 80s and 90s. Oh, especially the movies like "Breakfast Club" and "Sixteen Candles." Why don't they make movies like that anymore? But, I don't even know why I still have this biography show on because finding out that Couric graduated from college in 1979 is not going to increase my IQ too much."
(If you can't tell, I ramble and talk a lot when I'm nervous or uncomfy.)
Tim just stared at me and I continued on staring at the TV. He then moved right in my view, luckily his shortness made it so his Tim junior was not in my face.
"What are you thinking about?" He whispered.
I wish I could say. Honestly, I wanted to ask him what kind of lipstick he had on in the picture on page 134 in the collage booklet because I had been looking for a shade like that forever. And I also noticed he had an ant eater between his legs. Someone didn't get circumcised.
So, I came up with something else: "Uh, just that you guys did a great show tonight. Yep."
"You think so?" He asked. "I just hope the fans think we're as good as we were back in the day. I mean I don't want to disappoint anybody, I like to make sure everyone is satisfied. You know what I mean?"
"Eh, yeah. But, I'm not really a people pleaser." I responded, kind of getting the idea on where he was heading with his "satisfying" theory.
"You look like you are." He again whispered.
"Well, people also depict me as a cat lover and I'm allergic and am not a fan of them, so looks can be decieving." (I really say some stupid stuff in situations.)
"I think you are and you just don't know it."
"No, I'm rather positive I don't like cats. I think they're sneaky little animals."
"I'm talking about the people pleaser trait."
"Oh well, la tee da" <-- La tee da is always my response when I don't have anything else to say.
(Insert some more silence and him and his ant eater walking closer to me.)
"Well..." I said "I bet you Amber is probably looking for me or needs a smart ass comment in her life so I better go look for her."
"You're leaving. Wow. I didn't think it would be this early."
Well, I also didn't think I would have to be introduced to Arther the ant eater either but it's amazing how things happen in life. <--- I refrained from saying that.
"So, yeah...it was nice talking to you. Thanks for the invite." I forced a some what smile and began to walk towards the door.
"Yeah, good luck with everything since we probably wont be talking anymore." He said in a bratty manner.
(Insert me smiling a fake smile) and saying "Roger that."
So, in conclusion:
1.) He was a liar about never contacting me again because I occasionally get emails and texts from him.
2.) I can't look at Katie Couric or Coors Light the same.
3.) Amber ended up getting puked on by the drummer. Karma's a bitch.
4.) And I'm still pissed I never found out the shade of lipstick Tim wore on page 134.
xox
hotto.
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