As in fiddy.
Just the thought of spending 50 days in a van with four other dudes for 23 hours a day — just so you can jump out and spend an hour on stage — made me feel gross.
They looked kinda gross, too.
But that’s the price to pay to be in a band.
I asked them, “you guys hate each other yet?” To my surprise, they all said no.
My little bro introduced me to The Lead Singer; he knew The Lead Singer from the indie music scene around my old Arizona neighborhood. We approached him a while back to write a song for No Way Am I Gay. Then he approached me to make their first music video.
“What show was best so far?” I asked The Singer.
“Brooklyn,” he said. “Cause I got drunk and laid.”
I asked, “Did you catch his name?”
We all laughed. And it might have been The Guitarist — or maybe The Drummer — who said, “tell him about The Blumkin.”
Maybe The Bass Player said it. I don’t recall. But The Singer told me he was pooping after a gig and there were people in the bathroom and The Guitarist blew him mid-turd as the crowd watched in disbelief.
I think that’s how the story went.
Of course I screamed, “No way!”
There were laughing hard. I said, “That’s a joke, right?’
I don’t think it was.
They were in LA for three or four days. “I hope you guys don’t mind sleeping on porno furniture. I mean my PA cleans it, and I generally don’t have the guys pop on the furniture. It’s always on the girls, and it’s always when they’re on their knees, over here,” and I pointed to the middle of the floor. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…if I were you, I wouldn’t sleep on the floor. There’s a whole lotta dried-up DNA on that floor.”
One of them said, “We don’t mind.”
For the next few days I went about my business — making smut.
The Band hung out and watched The Smut Show. That’s when I started thinking about how I could hire The Band, cause indie bands making the rounds are always hurting for money. They told me they played one night for $8 — after their bar tab was paid. Since there’s 4 of them and a tour manager, they pocketed a whopping $1.60 for the night.
I had a way for them to pocket a little cash; they were down.
While she sat in make-up I dreamnt up another cheezy porno scenario…one which would put The Band in a little more than beer money.
That’s when I do it, by the way. Dream up cheezy porno scenarios. How fucking funny is it that people write porno scripts and spend money and time and effort dreaming up shit people are going to ignore? Oh sure, there’s a few twisted fucks who will follow a porno story line…but come on.
I like to massage the Porno Princess’s shoulders when they’re in the make-up chair. It’s also when I spring my pervy, creepy, wholly inappropriate porno scenarios on them. “So here’s what I’m thinking,” I told Jessi. “You’re at a small party. It’s you and the band. Let’s have The Guitarist be your boyfriend. Act bored the whole time. And you’ve invited 2 of your new friends to join this small party — Hooks and Skeeter. You spring this on them right as the black guys walk in. Oh, and when they walk in, act like it’s Christmas Morning. After you introduce everyone, tell Hooks and Skeeter you’re bored, and this is a boring party, cause you’re with boring guys, and you want to take them a big party. Everyone stands up to go to this big party, but you tell the white boys they’re not invited to a big party…cause they’re small. Then, you go to the next room and fuck so the small party can hear what’s going on in the big party. At the end of your big party, come back to the small party and give your boyfriend a kiss for letting you go to the big party.”
And so it came to be.
Oh…and I’d like to add that the finale of Jessi’s Big Party was as big and messy as any party I’ve ever caught on camera. And while I’m talking about finales, Jessi is no longer in the Porno Game. Dr. Phil rescued her from our Evil World with a 4 year scholarship to college.
I’m fucking serious.