Saturday, June 18

1:50 am
Suite

Fuck me.  I'm too fucking old for this shit.

Knee went to shit again, right in the middle of the show.  I gutted it out but it's fucking KILLING me now.  Good thing my pants were tight because that was the only damned thing that kept it from ballooning up.  I made it offstage by myself but have never been so fucking happy to see a chair in my entire fucking life as I was to see the one at the bottom of those stairs.  Had to sit for a few minutes before I could grit my teeth and walk to the cars.

PK and Matty wanted to carry me to the car.  I said no fucking way.  It's open-air, not underground like at Giants.  Ain't nobody gonna see this old man being carried off the stage.  I may limp off, but nobody's fucking touching me.

The second I got in the backseat and the door closed I damned near passed out.

PK had a doc already waiting back at the hotel.  We went in the back way, the guys went up to their rooms and I went straight to another room for a quick once-over by Dean and the Doc before PK hustled me out another door and into a van for a trip to the ER.

Another pair of stage jeans, ripped to shit.  Dawn will be thrilled, ha ha.  At least I was wearing underwear this time.

X-rays negative, just a bad sprain.  But my knee looks like somebody took a sledgehammer to it.  I've been alternating ice and heat the last hour, it's still throbbing like a Bitch.

Dean said he's sleeping in here tonight to keep an eye on the swelling, help me with ice, etc.  I didn't get to cool down so he's concerned about my back, too.  I told him I'll be fine; I won't be sleeping much.  He laughed and said "Hell you won't, the Vicodin's gonna knock you on your ass in about half an hour."

I think he may be right.  I'm starting to get a little woozy already.

Cate knew before I got off the stage; thanks to Twitter-world she saw the frantic eyewitness reports of my new "horrible injury."  She texted me and told me to call when I can.  Then she texted Matt; he told her the deal and that I'm being my usual stubborn-ass self, refusing to take it easy or cut the show short.

I called her from the car on the way to the ER.  She was in a meeting but broke out long enough to talk to me for a few minutes.  Told me to keep her posted; she'll call when she can.  And she said something else that took a load off my mind -- she's taking an earlier flight out of wherever-the-hell-she is, leaving tonight.  So she'll be home and safe by tomorrow morning.

Thank God.  I don't need to worry about her too, while I'm hobbling around on the fucking crutches they're making me use until I go onstage tomorrow.

And I WILL go onstage tomorrow.  My voice still works, I ain't completely broke.

If I can just survive 18 more shows.... then I can break down.  Be a Broke Down Piece of Man, ha ha.

Man I am getting woozy....


3:50 pm
Suite

Stuck in my fucking gilded cage.

Everybody's being so fucking nice to the decrepit old handicapped Rock Star.  Driving me batshit crazy.  Had to tell Dean and PK to get the fuck out of my room, leave me alone.  Need some Goddamned peace and quiet.

So everybody else went out shopping and shit.  Still trying to decide whether we're flying to Denmark tonight or not.  I've had Doc poking and prodding at my knee every couple hours since practically first fucking light.  And guess what?  It's STILL injured.  DUH.

He's a nice guy, the Doc.  A Brit, with that very proper Brit bedside manner.  So he apologized quite properly when he shoved a fucking three-inch needle in my football-sized knee and sucked out a big tube of fluid a couple hours ago.

That fucking sucked.  Then he gave me a cortisone shot, which sucked even more.  Now I'm sitting here with my bag of ice and my heating pad while Matt's sitting in the other room, probably with his fucking ear up against the door listening to be sure I'm not trying to walk around.

Little fucking pain-in-my-ass Bro.  Probably fucking narced me out to Mom, too.  She tried to call a couple times; I ignored her.  Don't feel like dealing with her right now.

I gotta get out of this damned room.  Even if it is to get on a plane to another hotel room.  Goddammit.

I can't get in touch with Cate either.  She texted me and said her plans changed too, now she has to stay an extra day wherever the fuck she is because some meeting had to be postponed to today or some shit.  I really need to know she's out of that damned place and home safe.  Or at least talk to her to know she's okay.

These painkillers I'm on ain't exactly killing the pain, but I think they're making me see things,  ha ha.  I actually had a conversation with Russell over what movie to watch while I'm stuck here in this damned room.  He wants to watch Harry Potter and I want to watch The King's Speech.  And I have thumbs and the remote, so I win.  Ha ha.

I'm talking to an imaginary ferret.

Well, I guess I have been taking pictures of an imaginary ferret for the past week and a half.

Whatever.

Maybe ferrets are bad luck.  Maybe the Ferret Lady back in Oslo put some kind of curse on me, made all this shit happen.  Maybe I somehow pissed off the Ferret Gods and this is retaliation.  Being stuck in a cage like a weasel.

God, I gotta get some damned sleep.


11:30 pm
Suite

I feel a little better now.  This afternoon I finally took a nap, passed out, whatever you want to call it.  All I know is I was dead to the world for a few hours.

And I talked to Cate.  She's still stuck wherever the fuck she is, apparently still battling with the dickheads she's meeting with.  But she said come Hell or high water she's flying out of there tonight, back to New York. She's had enough of their fucking around.  She said she came prepared to work and they didn't so she's not cutting them anymore slack.

That's my Girl.  No tolerance for Mickey-Mouse bullshit.  When she puts that Special Agent suit on she's professional to the core.  You don't fuck with her when she's in work mode.  These idiots oughta know that.  If they didn't they sure as shit do now.

She said she probably won't call me when she gets home because she wants me to get some rest, but she'll text to say she made it home safe.  I told her I can live with that as long as I get to talk to her before the show tomorrow.

I miss her.

Anyway, knee feels a little better, swelling's down a little, probably because I've stayed off it.  But now my leg is stiff as hell from that fucking brace.  Doc wanted me to sleep in it, but the way I felt just after a 3-hour nap, no fucking way.

The Guys took pity on me tonight.  PK got with the hotel people and had them put together a little dinner for us up here on the floor.  Matt actually let me out of the cage to limp all the way down the hall on my crutches (which is only like 4 doors down) to the hospitality suite.  Fucking Prison Warden.

It was nice, the hotel did a good job and the food was great.  I didn't eat much though, not much appetite.  Guess it's because of the meds.  Then the guys and I all came back to my room and hung out for awhile, had a few drinks and shot the shit.  I had a glass of wine though I probably shouldn't have with the meds, but I don't fucking care.  If I'm stuck in my room I'm gonna at least enjoy myself a little.

Actually, I think it helped.  I was definitely in a better mood after that, ha ha.

And of course, the evening couldn't be just as simple as a bunch of guys sitting around and chewing the fat.  Nope, not with this bunch.  Around 10:00 there was a knock at the door and Matt jumped up to answer it.  I figured it was the Doc, coming back to check out my knee again.

It wasn't.  It was a nurse.  A tall blonde nurse in a garter belt and high heels.  With perfect, gorgeous tits.

Leave it to Sambora to find high-class strippers in fucking Finland.

Well, I was feeling pretty good from my glass of wine so I didn't protest too much.  Nurse Janna was very professional, made sure to give me a nice, thorough, gentle examination.  She gave the guys check-ups too, just to be sure everybody was in good health, ha ha.

Actually, she was very talented.  Graceful, beautiful, alluring -- a great dancer.  She told me she has studied ballet since she was a little girl, and she dances with a city company as a hobby.  She definitely had dancer's legs.   No fucking doubt about that.

Apparently exotic dancing pays much better than classical ballet.  Like that's a surprise, ha ha.

So anyway, Janna did her thing for her hour, Richie tipped her and thanked her and escorted her to the door, then everybody decided to call it a night.  I musta looked tired or something.  Or the guys all wanted to go back to their rooms and watch porn and spank the monkey, ha ha.

Except Richie.  Knowing him, he probably gave Janna his room number along with that tip.  I'll probably hear the headboard thumping the wall and moaning in Finnish any time now.

Well, maybe not.  This ain't exactly the Holiday Inn.

So I hobbled back into my bedroom, took off that fucking brace, and very carefully stripped down and crawled into bed.  Just gonna lay here and flip through channels until I either find something interesting or fall asleep.

Heh heh.  Naughty Nurse.

I have good friends.