The Bride of Chucky and Paint on my shoes Part 2

Okay, so the mini-me dream of mine was a flop. I was still very much determined, but Amber told me that she was pretty sure the midget girl could kick my ass if I approached her again. I knew by the end of the night, the "Bride of Chucky" would change her mind. Everyone likes me. It was my goal of that night to find her again.


So, after the topic of the little person was finally dropped, Amber and I headed off to meet up with a band that hooked us up with the passes. This band is pretty well known in the rock world. You've probably heard their music played on the jukebox by some burly looking biker who has a mom tattoo on his chest. I dug their music and was pretty pumped to party it up with them.

On the way to their tourbus, I saw a man riding a bicycle. I took a double take, hoping and praying it was Pee-Wee Herman. (I'm determined to meet him once in my life. I'll explain that reasoning over lunch as well.) As he got closer to us I realized it was a guy who is often on the cover of guitar magazines at the grocery store. I didn't say anything to him though. I'm kind of weird when it comes to stuff like that. I hardly ever ask for photos from famous people I'm around, never ask for their autographs, and don't approach them if they're doing something else. Honestly, I think that's why Amber and I get asked back to hang with so many different bands. We treat them like, well, normal people. But, these normal people just happen to be known by more people, have twelve cars, and can buy an island if they wanted to.


So, I glanced at him and continued on walking to our destination. He pedaled faster towards us and gave us an exaggerated nod.


Now, you may wonder why he was on a bicycle. I've often wondered that, too. Surprisingly he's not the first rock star who has done this. I've come across four other rockers who pedal around the back of the venue. Drinking and cycling is cooler than drinking and driving...Yeah, you can quote me on that. :-)


We finally found the bus we were looking for and there was tons of people already partying it up. The bus had a strong smell of alcohol, weed, and some really weird fishy smell. Hello, Sea World.


I looked at Amber after we gave hugs and kisses to all the guys from the band and asked her "WTF is that smell?" She told me to be quiet and it was probably my upper lip. Did I ever tell you that Amber is a smartass?


After a while of talking small talk with some of the guys, Amber went off with the drummer to go and watch another band perform from the backstage area. So, I stayed on the bus.


One thing about Amber and me is we're never stuck to the hip when we do our "groupie" thing. We do our own thing and usually meet up in the very end. It's nice to be able to do that and know that I don't have to worry about her and vice versa. Independent girls for the win!


So, there I am, the only chick on the bus with five other guys. I was used to this ratio. It wasn't a big deal, it just felt like I was at a truck stop and I could thankfully keep up with the best of them.


While trying to have a thumb war with the bass player, we were interrupted by the band's manager, Tom.


"Hey, Hotto. I got a text from Ralph. He said you should come visit him after you're done hanging with us."


"...So, Ralph can text and ride his bicycle? Impressive" I responded.


After the band had a roast on Ralph, telling me every reason on why he's crazy, they all agreed that I should talk with him for awhile to find out for myself.


"Be nice to him. If you are your usual sassy self, he'll want you like mad crazy" Tom said.


...Ugh. Do you know how hard fake nice is? Almost as bad as pretending to be sober when you're drunk. It's not easy. But, a lot of politicians do it. So, I figured I would take a stab at it.


The guys soon turned the conversation to what movie they wanted to watch while getting stoned. I was still occupied with the awful smell on the bus. I mean, I knew a bunch of dudes lived on there, but fish?! Something was off. So, I just asked: "Dude! Who let the animals from Sea World in here?"


The whole bus erupted with laughter.


"Oh my god! If she was on this bus, she'd kick your ass for saying that" Tom stated while holding his stomach from laughing so much.


"Ugh, you guys need to make whoever she is, have a mandatory douche session before she comes back on this bus. Gross."


My stomach couldn't take the smell anymore, so I got off the bus and decided to take a walk and explore the world of rock and roll...and there was Ralph with his bicycle waiting outside the bus for me.


"Hey, I'm Ralph."


"Hotto." I continued on walking


Ralph pedaled fast to catch up. "So, I've seen you on myspace. You've hung out with a lot of my buddies from other bands."


"Mhmm" I continued on walking.


"I was heading over to my tour bus for a drink. Would you want to give me company?"


...I was tired of walking in my 6 inch heels, so I agreed.


Before I continue, I have to explain something about Ralph. When he talks he swings his head from side to side, in a weird rhythmic matter. Like he hears music that isn't playing. And he also drags his last word out. It's really annoying. So, bear with me as I try to type like how he talks.

As we stepped on the bus, it was only him and me. My first thought was "Pee Wee junior better not try anything. I may love to party, but I have standards."

After he took a few shots of Crown, he sat next to me and stared at my feet.

Silence filled the bus.

"Those are some nice shoeesssss."

"Thanks, I'm pretty sure they have a pair in your size at Macy's if you tried hard enough to find them."

...I was pissed at myself for the sassy comment and reminded myself about being nice to him.

He continued on staring at my feet. I looked up at the ceiling, then at him, then at my feet he was staring at.

Silence.
"Well, I should probably get going. I have to find this girl."

"Why do you have to go so soooooon? What girllllllll?"

"Oh, she's pretty much going to be my new best friend, she just doesn't know it yet."

He ignored my comment and continued on making sexy eyes at my feet.

"So, those are some nice shoesssssssss."

....Yeah, you said that already.

"Would you mind if I painted themmmmmmm?" he asked.

So, he thinks he's a Bob Ross? Wanting to get his fingerpaints out and paint my shoes? Umm, no. I didn't even have to think about it. No was the answer.

"Can't you find a notebook or wall to paint on? You artists usually have canvas' handy, right?"

It was silent. Again.

"I'm not talking about real paint. Just let me paint your shoes, please."

...I sat there and tried to put two and two together. Not real paint? Paint shoes? He's been giving sexy eyes to my feet since I stepped foot on the bus.

And then he started unzipping his paints.

I jumped up quicker than that guy Jack who lives in a box. "Ohhh no. You are not...doing...uh, jizzing on my shoes. Where I come from you just don't do that on purpose...maybe by accident...but...and we don't call it painting we call it...well, we call it...ya know...and we PAINT with a paintbrush here in america and colorful paints."

"Please. I'll give you a thousand dollars to do it."

...As Meatloaf once said "I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that"...Well listen to my quote of life "I'll do almost anything for money, but I won't let you paint on my heels." Yes, you can quote me on that, too.

I responded with "Gross." Sometimes I'm a woman of few words.

"Come onnnnnnnnn! Hustler will tape it and you'll be famous."

...My family would be so proud.

I simply walked off the bus and continued on my journey to find my potential mini-me...

...I lied, there's a part 3. This is only half of the story.

The Bride of Chucky & Paint on my Shoes

I try to go for "almost" everything life has to throw at me. Bungee jumping opportunity out of the blue? I did it without thinking twice. Going canoing in a swamp full of alligators? I was beaming with excitement during the whole entire trip. Very rarely do I say "no" to things. I always say "This may be the only chance I get at this. This may be a once in a lifetime thing for me. I need stories to tell my future grandchildren or my many future cats." Well, like I said, I "almost" go for everything life has to offer me. But, there's always an exception to a theory or rule of mine. Here's one:

I know I've been lucky to have some of the experiences I've had in life. I've met some amazing people who've been involved in the public eye. Like Kate Hudson said in Almost Famous - "Famous people are just more interesting to me." They have exciting stories and they usually result in interesting stories as well. No, I'm not going to name drop like some people do. But, if you twist my arm enough over a bottle of wine or several shots of Jack, I'll show pictures off my phone.

A few summers ago I was lucky enough to get backstage passes to a rather big rock show. The groups and musicians who were playing at this event I had sang along with so many times on the way to my classes, danced to their music in my undies and tank top while getting ready for a weekend gathering, or have been the soundtrack to my drinking moments with friends. I was excited to say the least. More excited than I was when I won tickets to Disney on Ice and I was pretty frickin excited for that.

Now this wasn't my first rodeo backstage at a music event. I had already had three other backstage experiences under my belt. I knew what to expect: Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll. It's not a myth on what you see in movies or TV. If anything what they show and talk about that happens behind the scenes of a rock concert is rather tamed and edited. From having a front row seat to this "behind the scenes" experience, nothing surprises me and I'm pretty sure I've seen every raunchy sexual situation you could think of. This includes a midget, but that's another story. (One of my favorite stories in the world that I have.)

So, as my friend Amber and I headed to the concert, we agreed that were weren't going to expect anything or get our hopes up. For all we knew something could have gone wrong with the passes, the guys could be really douche bag-ish, or the end of the world could have decided to happen that night and we would experience nothing but zombies. Never expect anything, and you'll always be surprised and will have no disappointments in the end. It's a big rule I try to live by. Expecting always leads to a sad face. And no one wants that, it leads to wrinkles, dontchya know?

As we arrived at the venue we get out of the car, tousled our hair a little bit, and freshened up with some gloss on our lips. We were prepared for anything and were ready to get the ball rolling.

As we went through all the necessary security stuff: Some guy who looked like Larry King started checking our purses and patting down our bodies because we were obviously packing a shotgun underneath our mini dresses...my vagina is impressive, but holding a shotgun up there? That's some circus shit right there.


So, after all of this, I spotted a little person way up a head of us.

I told Amber that when we headed to the backstage entrance to take a look at the little person standing around the area, she looked so cute from afar. Amber agreed, but didn't really understand why I was excited.


I didn't either honestly. Normally I'm terrified of them. I know, I know, how horrible of me to feel this way. I know they can't help it obviously. But, it's to the point that I can't even watch the Wizard of Oz. My whole body just tenses up. Kind of like the feeling you get right before you go into see the Dentist. Ugh.


Anyways, that day I was excited to see one and I finally figured out why she was an exception...I love horror movies and she looked just like the little doll from the "Bride of Chucky." She had sleeve tattoos, piercings all over, teased blonde hair, bright red lipstick, and barely any clothes on. She was a small amount of sin. And I loved it! I decided right then and there that she should would be my mini me. Lucky her!


So, Amber was looking at me like I just took a handful of bath salts, because I'm rambling on like a crazy girl on how excited I am. (I promise I wasn't drunk or high on anything. I'm one of the rare cases who just gets high on weird incidents like this.) So, from being so high on that moment, I started skipping towards her. Why? I'm not sure. I blame The Wizard of Oz and the munchkin scene.


So I skipped towards her and stopped right in front of her, smiling from ear to ear, looking like I had found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. (I could put a leprechaun joke in here, but I won't)


So, I stood there, still smiling, waiting for her to smile back and welcome me to the venue.


No smile. At all. She had a cigarette in her hand, placed it in her mouth and took a drag off of it and just looked at me like I was on crack.


It took everything in me not to take the cigarette out of her mouth, give her a mini baby Ruth and twirl her around in the air while singing a Disney song.


So, there I was still smiling. And I was not saying anything, which is quite rare. Like a unicorn rare. I always talk.


I acted more star stuck with her than I did when I met Cher. And Cher is pretty much God to me. (If you don't understand why, I can tell you over lunch.)


She finally said something: "What the fuck do you want? You can take a picture, broad."


Silly me, I thought this was an invitation to do so. So me, not thinking, I took my camera out of my purse, smiling from ear to ear, hoping she'd let me hold her while Amber took the photo or we could at least do the mini-me pose and I could be Dr. Evil! I would have even settled for a hug.


...She wasn't being serious. Little people can get very angry I found out. I thought she was going to bite my ankle.


"I was fucking joking, Blondie. Put your fucking camera away" she yelled.


Here comes the word vomit and me ignoring what she just said: "Oh, I think you're just adorable and I love your tattoos. Do you want to hang out with us later at the after party?"


She stared at me. I smiled. Amber groaned at my stupidity.


"No, I don't want to hang out later. I've got shit to do and people to see" she responded with.


Here comes some more word vomit: "Well, do you have a name? Maybe we have mutual friends on Myspace." ...Myspace was still "in" during this time.


WTF is wrong with me?!? "Do you have a name?" ...I think that is probably the stupidest thing I have ever said in my entire life. I'm pretty sure someone spiked my slushie I had earlier that day.


She stares at me. And continues to stare some more.


"Yeah I have a name it's called Candance Fuckyoubitchnowleave."


...I should have been sad at this, but I loved that she was sassy too. This should have been my cue to leave. Umm, no. I was determined to get a photo with her and I wanted to ask questions.


I wanted to ask her so many things: if she ever tried to crawl in the part of the machine where you get the toy in the claw machine, because if I was a little person I would do that. I would sit still with all the stuffed animals and then start screaming when the claw started to move. How does she press the button on an elevator? Does she have a reacher? Or does she hire someone to do that for her, because I would be great for that. I would totally apply, because I'm tall. I also wanted to ask if anyone ever sang Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" to her when she busted a move, because I knew all the words to that song and I think it would be great for a talent show act if we were back in middle school and if she didn't want to dance I could just twirl her around,because I'm sure she's not heavy. I carry a sack of potatoes from my car to the inside of my house, I can handle her weight.


...Silence was still happening. And she started to waddle away and I was desperate, I didn't want her to leave, so I yelled: "Do you want a piece of gum or a piece of candy?!"


...Once again, WTF! I should just drive a white van, change my name to Chester, and ask her if she wanted to help me find my lost dog, too.


She turned around, waved at me with her middle finger, and headed off towards a tour bus. But, that's not the last of her in this story.


The story has only begun...


(to be continued.)