5:05 pm
Venue
Oh Jesus. Here we go again.
Can't we ever have a NORMAL fucking soundcheck on this Goddamned Tour That Won't End???
First fucking Groucho glasses and silly hats, now I show up and there's an entire fucking POLKA BAND on my stage. Wearing lederhosen and the little green Peter Pan hats and the whole deal. There are like 15 people in this band, with tubas and clarinets and trombones. And 3 guys with accordions. It's like a fucking squeezebox convention up there.
And right in the middle, wearing his own goofy-ass hat with a feather in it, is that motherfucker Bryan. Grinning ear to fucking ear and playing the Chicken Dance on his Roland.
I swear, he will go to the ends of the earth to Punk me.
Oh great, and there goes the Other One. Mookie just strapped on a Squeezebox.
And now it's Roll Out the Barrel. Christ.
I'm going to find something to eat.
7:25 pm
Dressing Room
Alright, Cookie. Let's see what you got for me tonight.
I feel kinda dirty. I'm in here all alone, just me and my Cookie. It's like I'm doing something naughty. An illicit rendezvous of sorts.
Talk dirty to me, Cookie. Heh heh.
"That shirt is very becoming on you. If I were on you I'd be coming too."
Holy Shit! That IS dirty!!!
Christ, what am I gonna tell Dawn when she asks what it says? I can't say THAT to her!
FUCK.
And now I can't even eat the cookie, after it said that to me. I'm not sure I can even look at the damned thing.
Shit. How am I supposed to get my head in the show NOW?
