The Poison Tour Diary via Metal Sludge
 July 18, 2001 / 185 reads / No comments yet


"Vanilla Earth and the 5 Star Degenerates"

I can't EVEN feel like I'm home and relaxed on this little break that Poison is taking. I know I'm going back out on the road in a matter of days, so mentally I just can't get out of the on-the-road groove. I don't have time to get into any real projects. I'm not in good enough shape right now to compete in the "Invitational of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu" tournament this weekend. I don't have enough time to do any real recording, do websites, fix things, etcetera, etcetera, but I do seem to have enough time to get myself into trouble. Case in point, I decide I should take a quick road trip to San Diego where my nephew Marc now resides. Marc does tattoos and plays rhythm guitar in a punk band called, "5 Star Degenerate". These guys are probably the next Blink 182, so I may as well enjoy my nephew while I can. He'll soon be a bigger star than me.

Marc likes to party a little bit and the rest of the band is even worse. San Diego can be a pretty cool town, but there are a lot of beer-aggro people hangin' around downtown on the weekends. With this concern in mind, I realize that if I get too fucked up, I won't be able to defend myself if I get some anti-Poison/anti-80's meat-head wanting to fuck with me.

After a long-assed/traffic ridden trek to S.D., Marc and friends greet me and without delay, we are all quickly off to the downtown gas lamp district. We park my truck and start our couple of blocks walk to some club that they know a doorman at. On the way, some chick with a big nose sitting with two friends at an outside table shouts in my direction, Geez, I didn't know the Goo-Goo-Dolls were in town. She's obviously being sarcastic with her biting vocal tone. I go, "Yeah, and your nose has the wrong part number on it, bitch!" Now realize, I rarely ever say mean things to people unless they draw first blood and even then I would usually rather let it go. I also don't make a habit of pointing out people's flaws, either. I certainly have many of my own, but I have been up since 6:00 am because my donkey got loose and was eating the fence, plus I have driven for four hours in traffic with a sore back and no decent C.D.'s in the truck.

Many of the new generation of punk bands grew up listening to Poison and feel a kind of kinship with Poison. "5 Star D" is no exception and so the boys start toying with the idea of ordering beer and pouring it over the three chicks heads for the stupid comment that the one rendered. I cabosh the idea telling them that we all have better things to do and itıs not worth it. "Save your money for beer that you're actually gonna drink", I sez. They decide to listen to me. Hey, good sense is good sense! So we get to this club, show I.D.'s and all that shit and we all finally settle into a few drinks. Everyone has their chicks with them and I'm now fully realizing that I am the odd man out. No biggie, "I don't need anyone!" I was thinking. I am obviously still in a shit mood from the earlier entrapments. I do, however, notice this one blond chick from across the room who is sitting at one of the tables. She's looking like she should actually be at a drum circle somewhere in Alaska. She has more than that look going on though. Yeah, she has a neo-hippie vibe, but I can tell she's not originally from that culture. She's just too clean and put-together. Plus, she's downright hot!

We make eye contact again and she decides to walk over towards me. As she gets closer, I realize that she's even prettier than I first thought. Her blonde hair cascades around her face like someone drew it on her from a comic book action hero, yet it looks like she didn't at all try. I get the idea that her natural beauty enables her to probably wake up looking like that.

She smiles at me with the kind of dimples that make ya wanna do lines of coke out of them and then extends her hand out to me. "I'm Vanilla", she says. "Paulette, but everyone calls me Vanilla Ocause of my hair." "Who are you?" "I'm Rikki" I'm now gently grasping her hand back, "Richard, but everyone calls me Rikki because... weıll, I guess it's better than Dick!" My line back to her seems stupid because it actually is. "Your aura is..." she sez. "What?" I say. She closes her eyes and continues to hold my hand. "Your aura...is... red! "Red?" I ask. "What does that mean?" "You are yearning for spiritual rebirth." She says with those dimples on ten and green eyes sparkling. "Is that good?" I ask. "It can be. It's up to you." She responds. People, what I'm really yearning for is a chance to kiss those damn dimples and squeeze those ample breasts of hers, but that response verbalized would about kill any chance of doing either of those things with her. I'm clueless on how to proceed with this conversation. I know it and with how much of grumpy wreck I was, I decided that before I lose my ability to carry on this crystal-dangler conversation, I best figure a way out. "It was nice meeting you." I say. She walks slowly backwards holding my hand until she's too far away to hold it anymore. All the while she's smiling like sheıs trying to figure me out. She blows a quick kiss and walks away.

Whew! I'm either getting too old or too jaded, but certain encounters are just seeming like they are too much work for me these days. Besides, all I wanted to do really was hang out with my nephew. Meanwhile, nephew has his tongue so far down his chick's throat that I swear it was starting to inflate her lungs. I glance over at the drummer and he's got his mini-skirt wearin' chick mounted on his lap at the bar and she's tuggin' his tongue piercing with her lips. He may as well just fucked her there. I probably would have if I was him.

Tim from 5 Star goes, "Let's split. We'll all party at the singer's house. This place sucks!" We all agree. As we are all ascending the stairs, little Vanilla scurries up from behind, pinches my butt and asks me, "So where do YOU think you are going?" "Over to a party. Wanna come?" I boldly ask. "Yeah. Well, maybe. Can you give me a ride to L.A. later?" She laughs out loud. "Actually, I'm going back there tomorrow." I say. "Hmmm..." She bites her finger. "Well, my friends are acting like I'm a pain anyway. O.K. But are you cool?" "What do you mean, cool?" I ask. "You know. You won't get weird or anything with me will ya?" She asks. "Me? No way." I respond. "O.K., let me get my backpack." She smiles and sez. "I'll meet ya outside here."

It doesn't take long to get a party started with 5 Star Degenerate. Within a fifteen minute period, pot has been smoked, beer bongs have been utilized, and couples have spent way too much time in the bathroom together. I don't party as much these days, but when I start saying things like, "Whoever has the bong, has my lighter too." I know this isn't going to be one of those kicked back nights.

I study Vanilla as she sits quietly on the end of the couch when I realize just how much I really do want to get to know this chick. Not to sound like a weirdo or anything, but she's leaning back with her shoes off revealing the cutest little pair of feet I have ever seen. Now, don't get the idea that I'm some funky, foot fetish perv, but I am seeing a woman's foot in a whole new way right about now. Blame it on the various beverages, my lack of sleep or maybe just the sexy tone of her skin, but I actually felt like kissing them! ³Sexy, aren't they?" Vanilla has obviously caught me looking at them. "Yeah." I answer in an embarrass tone. "Actually they are sexy." I say. "You like feet?² She asks in a sexy, confident tone. ³Well, I donıt dislike them." I answer. "Not to sound conceited, but I know that mine are exceptional." She reassures her confidence in answering. "I used to model and I did lotıs of moisturizer ads and shit. The kind where they show legs and feet. I am quite blessed." She goes on, "Those ads paid for college."After about a half hour of mild conversation, I realize that it's not only late, but early, depending on how you look at it. I have made no sleeping arrangements prior and I refuse to drive back to L.A. at 3:45 in the morning. Everyone is quite "Lit" by now, so we take a few pics and decide to take off.

"Where are you taking me?" Vanilla asks as we drive lost on some freeway. "We need to find some lodging, donıt cha think?" I ask. "Fine with me!" she smiles. I think to myself, "Good! Judging by that answer, I'm in big time!"15 hotels later I realize that this fuckinı town has not one vacancy. To make a long story short, we get halfway to L.A. before we find anything available. To make a long story even longer, we check in, turn on a few lights and stare at each other for a minute. Vanilla excuses herself into the bathroom and emerges wrapped only in a towel. "I'm going to tell you right now, cowboy.", She says. "I don't like sex. My father abused me and I don't do well with it." Just about now I'm wishing I would have brought a sleeping bag and crashed on Marc's floor. I can't even fathom the idea of trying to talk to this chick about this shit, especially at 5:00 in the morning. "It's o.k." I say. "Don't worry about it." We climb into bed and even though I didn't think I'd sleep well with someone I'd just met, I swear I was unconscious in two seconds flat.

I awake at 11:00 a.m., knowing that check out is at 12:00. I cherish the last few remaining minutes of rest before attempting a shower. "Vanilla? Where is Vanilla", I ask myself. Hmmm, maybe she doesn't really exist. Maybe it was all a dream? I enter the shower, half unconscious and still wondering. I emerge from the bathroom to find Vanilla sitting on the bed, wearing a swimsuit. "Where were you? Where did you get a bathingsuit from?" I ask pathetically. "I bought it at the little gift shop in the lobby." She answers. "I wanted to lay out by the pool. Like it?" Any normal girl would look kinda plain in this plaid looking thing she had on. Not Vanilla, she could make a burlap bag look good. "Yeah, it's not bad at all." I respond. Vanilla's legs are glistening from suntan oil, her breasts rounding out her bathing suit top and her lips are sparkling from some glossy vaseline type stuff. The thought of her lips down where the sun donıt shine makes my main vein start to give the thumbs up.

"You look cute in a towel." She says. "Maybe you should wear one all the time." She jokes. She now slides forward on the bed and moves my towel to the side with her foot. She forces her toes apart and starts rubbing my cock with both feet. There it is... The hippie girl with the golden feet is caressing my hog with her million dollar dogs. I'm certainly suffering from lack of sleep, but certainly I'm no longer suffering from any alcohol intake. The oil that she rubbed on herself is now all over my weenie making it glisten. "Damn! This feels good!" I'm thinkin'. She now pulls herself even closer. Her legs are bent and I can see that this position allows her to really get going. Nurse Dynamite told me about this kind of thing, but I figured it was all about someone else. Not normal Ool me. Yet, here I find myself on the verge of a climax while this rather odd but clearly sexy specimen tosses me off with her ad campaign worthy feet.

Vanilla decides to up the ante. She undoes her top and allows her pert breasts to pop out proudly in the curtain dimmed room. I reach for one.. "Stop! Just look." she quips at me. I decide, why ruin what she is willing to do with what I wanna do. She starts caressing her breasts paying special attention to her hard nipples. This is a bit of a new experience for me, but I'm kind of liking it. I can now feel that my cock wants to erupt. "She can't possibly want me to hold out too long with this kind of act. Why not let it fly? I figure. I feel my cum ebb up my urethra. Vanilla is stroking me faster now obviously tuned into my heavier breaths. "Oh, fuck!" I say, as I shoot a wad worthy of a porno flick "money shot". I can actually hear it land on her. "Nice..." she sez.

Vanilla and I didn't talk much on the way home. Between static and bad dance songs on the radio, Vanilla did manage to inform me that she grew up on a commune in Florida at an early age. Her parents had legally changed their last name to Earth. "Vanilla Earth", I repeated the name to myself. "How fuckin' funny!" If we got married it would be Vanilla Rockett. That seemed even fuckin' funnier! Here I am thinkin', "I have this little oddball with the funky name who is into jacking off guys with her feet. Now, here I am with a funky name allowing her to have done it! And I liked it too! This could be bad. What if I want this action again? Oh, no. I'm turnin' into a fucked up, perverted rock slag! I guess wisdom can come at a hell of an hour. Naw, I can't be fucked up. What I did really want to do, she wouldn't allow me to do. Besides, why feel weird about something I enjoyed?

We pull up to her apartment building. Vanilla reaches in her backpack and scribbles down her number, then hands it to me. "I like you." She says in a serious tone. "I really do. Use this number sometime, although you probably won't." I couldn't even begin to formulate a response right then. It must have bothered her as she gets out and walks away without saying another word. Her pretty ass dances as she walks toward her apartment door. She doesn't even turn to look back at me. I drive away...

--Rikki

"Fill what's empty, empty what's full, and scratch where it itches." - the Duchess of Windsor (when asked what is the secret of a long and happy life.)

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