The Poison Tour Diary via Metal Sludge
 July 26, 2001 / 171 reads / No comments yet


"Bianca and The Crown Royal Incident"

I smoke too much, and I know, I shouldn't smoke at all. But, after all the years of clubs and fat rock shows it's one of the lesser evils that I have acquired I suppose. What do you do if your girlfriend starts smoking? Slow down and lubricate!

Much has happened since the break. Going from ten days off to four in a row is rough stuff. No pity party here, but it does take a toll when the after show is longer than the onstage show. So, I miss a night in Pittsburgh. Now I'm the asshole of the moment! Rock Commandment number #4. Thou shall not miss meet n greet without having the wrath of many. "Everybody wants some", sayeth David Lee Roth. The trials of life crept up on me, so I took a break. I lit a candle in the dressing room, made a bed from a nasty tour bus blanket and made believe I was having sex with a 22 year old virgin who saved it all for me. Reality bites!

Toronto, Canada is always refreshing. However, having every single person from the tour getting their names run through the F.B.I. for several hours at the border sucked a donkey ass. I went shopping with the guys from "Brave
words and bloody knuckles" magazine. Nice fellas. We bitched about traffic, dumb drivers, how most bands hate Poison and just how cool that is. We also commented on the upper class chicks in divine business wear. There is always the occasional street people asking for change. "Change comes from within, man!" I thought I was going to get the chance to go to the world's foremost authority on shrunken heads house, but that didn't work out. I'm an outsider and that is touchy business. Why would I want to go? Because I have severe mental problems. Besides, C.C. was wanting to go down a hat size or two. I wanted to have the technology. A shrunken head is no small favor!

Any show in Ohio is always a treat. People are just plain fun and nice to hang with. The shows are always good as far as the response from the crowd and the after shows leave you invigorated. Hell, we even went to Revolution.
Billy from Warrant runs the club. Billy is a pretty neat guy. I like 'em. Plus, he has totally 70's hair which means he could get a gig with Angel if they ever lost their guy. P.S. I heard Rudy Sarzo did an Angel tour back in the day. I shall corner him about that one!

C.C. and I jammed quite a long time at Revolution and I ended up fucking Fuckazo over by never giving him a chance to jam. Iım sorry dude. I didn't realize how late it was. God, there was some nice filth hanging around in
the back room. It was hotter than a grasshopper on a hot skiddle and so Fuckazo and I offered our "cool down services" to a few ladies. (See my digital scrapbook/Page #4)

Cincinnati offered a rather strange downtown. As Fuckazo, Spooky Stephanie, Smoothie, Kevin The Blue Flamer, The Pres. Of the Fat Bitch Mafia (Winkie) and I strolled merrily along the streets, we encountered an absence of solid culture. On one hand there were college people, rock shops and veggie restaurants mixed with jewelry dealers specializing in gold teeth. Crack dealers were out in droves soliciting the folks there to see King Crimson at a theater. I made friends with tattoo and piercing people and watched Winkie look in revolt at certain things. I kept telling her that I wanna cum in her dimples. They are just so cute! Anyway, I left with Kev and went back to the
hotel to hang out with Princess Tee, The Hooters Girl.

I was told I missed out on the Goth club that they all went to. I do like Goth Cookies sometimes and some of these Dracula Biscuit morsels came to the show the next night. The one morsel, Sara The Glitter Goth Cookie, is the
prettiest thing. Too bad, she has a boyfriend. Damn! Anyway, I was informed that some drunk guy in a leather dress at the club the previous night tried to kiss Fuckazo and ended up licking his face all to the amusement of
onlookers Winkie and Spooky. God, what I would have done to get a pic of that! Paul, my drum tech, ended up hooking up with some first rate filth at the King Crimson show. That Paul is like a pussy vacuum this tour. Paulie,
just be careful...

Gosh darn! The last few shows have been hotter than a L.A. crack pipe on pay day!

In other news...
Ricky Parent did bad things the other night with a certain someone. Just ask the Fat Bitch Mafia. They are watching you, Thumper...

Vanilla Earth called me last night and left the wierdest message. "Hi baby. Iım feeling rather Vanilla this evening. Call me and tell me what is afoot these days. Ha, ha!" Click!

Speaking of feet... I am looking forward to the quickly upcoming White Trash Dream Date excursion. Tina, you will be hailed as the Poison Princess. Tina, now don't go getting cold feet about this date. Besides, I have a foot thing
now, so clean up your tootsies and prepare for me to attack them!

The Incident...

Ya know, I can chalk many things up to experience. Believe me or not, I was actually an E.M.T. back in the day. I was volunteer for Harrisburgıs Ambulance service. Although my certification has long ago run out, Smoothie keeps me up updated on the new techniques that he teaches to the good fellas over in Greenacres, Florida.
Ya see, Bianca works a waitress job at a local restaurant. Saves most of her money for concerts but blows about $200 of her $680 dollars a week on booze. She dresses vintage 70's and always has as far as I can remember.
Low-cut flares that exposes a thin tummy more from lack of eating than any work out plan. The tummy is usually graced with some sort of belly chain. She over draws her lips with a brown pencil, but for some reason it works on
her. We met at a club on a day off in Ohio six years ago. "Have any Crown Royal?" Bianca asks me over my cell phone. "No, I'm sorry, just some beer. We donıt have hard alcohol on the rider this year." I reply. "O.K., I'll pick something up on the way over. See ya in about an hour.": Bianca hangs up the phone. A bundle of clacking makes it sound like she had trouble finding the phone cradle.

Bianca knocks. I know it's her because I could hear her walking up the hallway half drunk and stumbling. "Baby, it's me!" I hear her say through the wooden hotel door. I open the door and there she stands, not very erect, but standing. Bianca has a Marlboro light hanging from her mouth that desperately needs ashed. The remnants of the last application of lipstick making a pink mark around the filter. She is carrying a little blue velvet bag that has a crown royal label on it. "I like the hair, baby". comes the typical Bianca drunk mumble from her lips. "The red is cool" She bumps me as she walks past and into the hotel room. She is wearing the kind of prairie dress that went out of style several years ago, but on her, it seems classic. She has a on pair of dull red Doc Martins that have to be at least ten years old and a rubber, recycled purse with bottle caps on the front. She looks tan.

"Can I have a fuckin' hug and kiss for criss' sakes?" God, I haven't seen ya in forever!" She demands, outstretching her arms and dropping the bottle. Some how, the bottle doesnıt break. I can feel her hard fake breasts push against my chest. I smell alcohol on her breath. I'm not suprized in the least. We don't kiss.

Bianca used to be a Russian model back in the days when Muriel Hemminway was starting to go out of style. She got a boob job, did some "B" movies, made bad deals and signed bad contracts, did some soft core porn and eventually through her perils became an alcoholic. Bianca got sober about ten times and is obviously back on the juice at this time. I have seen her both ways. She is bitter when she is sober, so her attitude being drunk is a relief.
However, I fear that one day she just wonıt be around anymore. I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix it all for her, but then I wouldn't be in a rock band.

"Look at my new tattoo!" She pulls up her dress and points to a Scorpio tat just above her pubic region. The tat sucks but I canıt tell her that. In spite of all her tribulations in life, she still has maintained a killer bod at 37 years old. Her body is living on borrowed time with her habits and I doubt that the next time I see her she'll look as good. I find myself mixed with sexual excitement and feeling bad for her. But that's the way I have always felt about her. I can't fix her, she needs help but I really don't know if I can overlook her pathetic state this time around and just try andbang her.

"Whats with you?" Bianca asks me in a puzzled voice. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just worried about you." Bianca acts like she doesn't even hear what I said. "You wanna get something to eat? Or, do you wanna wait till afterward?" She asks me in a quite voice as she picks up the bottle of Crown royal. "After what?" I ask. "After I suck your cock. I'm on the rag this week." She responds as if it were the same thing as asking me if she could
borrow a glass. Which the glass, by the way, she simply grabs on her own and pours herself a stiff one. Bianca is acting weird and I donıt like it. Sure, she is the kind of woman that men still hit on constantly. She does and
always has oozed sexuality in a sexual free bird kind of way. "Come on! Drop your drawers, then I'm yours!" She throws out the words like sheı' trying to be funny. It sounds pathetic and drunk. "Did you go fag on me?" Now shes
getting testy. "Bianca, I haven't even kissed you yet." O.K., here's a kiss." She grabs my hair and lunges towards my lips. Incoming crown royal breath notwithstanding, permeates my fly-by zone.

Bianca collapses into my arms. I hold her until I can put her limp body on the bed. She throws up. Once, twice, now three times. I fear that she might stop breathing. She convulses several times. I use a hair brush as a bite stick and with my left hand, I call a cab. I walk her to the elevator. She upchucks again, the vomit now cascading off her dress and into the crevasses of the elevator flooring. I drag her into the lobby and out the door while a dozen people who are "checking in" watch this mess. The hospital staff pumps her stomach as I watch the life come back into her. Valiums, Crown Royal and a life of let downs come streaming out the vacuum tube.

"She'll be o.k. this time." Sez a very concerned nurse. "But you really need to get your girlfriend into a rehab a.s.a.p. Now go up to the front desk and take care of the bill, please. You should be a little more responsible with
those that you love." The nurse says as she turns away.

I drain the last of my one credit card and leave for sound check...

--Rikki

Graceless lady you know who I am.
You know I can't let you, slide through my hands.
- Wild Horses / The Rolling Stones

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