Jacksonville Tour Tomfoolery

A 12 hour tour bus trip for work to the Florida Country Superfest meant only one thing this past weekend….endless shenanigans for this Nashville chick.

Me and my one adoring fan.

After prepping my ride for the weekend with an overabundance of booze, low-class snacks and booze, we were ready to roll.

My chariot.

Being that this bus was full of party animals, surprisingly there was only one rule to follow the entire trip…

The lone bus rule located in the bathroom.

As we pulled out of Nashville, I assumed my assigned position of tending bar.

One Skinny Pirate and glass of vodka coming right up!

After an hour (or three) of cocktailing, hoisting my ample ass up to the top bunk was no easy feat.

This is the face after a self-inflicted concussion.

No worries about the wound, as I did what you’re supposed to do after all head injuries. I slept it off.

After what felt like 32 minutes of sleep, we’d arrived in Jacksonville and I couldn’t get out of my own personal coffin fast enough.

Trying to bust a move off the bus gracefully.

I high-tailed it off of the bus and followed the signs to my fave place in any venue.

The stage.

Sprinting to the stage almost cost me two sprained ankles.

Florida was underwhelmed with all of my non-showered, greasy glory.

Naturally it’s not easy taking selfies while staying out of the crew’s way, busting their asses in preparation for the evening show, so I didn’t stay around long enough for them to ask me to help with sound check.

Check 1. Check 2. Check yourself off of the stage.

Escorting myself out of the high traffic staging area, I decided to take my talents back stage and offer assistance near the tour trucks.

Please. We all know I sat on my ass and watched others work as my nails are “jewels, not tools.”

In dire need of a shower, I settled for a semi-clean bathroom vanity to gussy my raggedy ass up.

Touring at its finest.

It was then time to head for concert where I was treated to a warm up show by a lady who gave me a run for my trashtacular money.

Who needs a pole when you have a chair?

Not wanting to be out classed by the chair dancer, I managed to spill an entire Skinny Pirate on my pal Rocky as I was prepping for a pic of us.

Swimming in a Skinny Pirate and he still smiles. Sign of a good friend!

Speaking of friends, what about me getting to hang with my Florida bestie, who I had no clue would be in attendance at the festival?

Surprise reunion!

Think she looks familiar?

Well, she does. Not only has she joined me in being a Holly Jolly Drunk girl this past Christmas, she also took part in one of my very best photo-bombing events.

Which one of these is not like the other?

But I digress.

Of course Holly Jolly Drunk Girl and I consumed cocktails while catching up.

She talked. I guzzled.

While us gals were gabbing, nature started to call upon my over flowing bladder, so I went to wait in a line that was roughly 5,312 ladies long. After 20 hellish minutes I realized that an emergency was about to take place, so I sought other means of relief.

Yep. I did.

I sprinted into the men’s room with my hands cupping my eyes while yelling, “I’m not looking! I can’t see you! I’m about to piss my pants!”

A very kind, extremely inebriated cowboy with his pants unbuttoned turned around from his urinal and tried to escort me toward the first open stall. While trying to avoid his germ filled grip, I slammed the door behind me and was greeted to this lovely sight.

Only the classiest will do for this fancy chick.

While I’d never shared a toiled with a Gatorade bottle, a beer can and someone’s regurgitated lunch it was well worth the sacrifice because I would have missed Florida Georgia Line waiting to use the ladies room.

I mean seriously. The sacrifices I make.

Singing along with the likes of Little Big Town, Eric Church and Jason Aldean for the rest of the evening didn’t suck either.

While bleary eyed and not at all bushy-tailed the next morning, I was greeted to a scantily clad Luke Bryan outside the bus window.

Our fingers were crossed his ball would break a bus window.

Collecting myself for yet another jammed packed day, I met my buddy Aha! who is on tour with Easton Corbin.

Buddies so old we used to be in a band together.

While perusing the other buses backstage, my eye caught a very sore sight. It was a plane with an advertisement that was obviously never double checked, as it read:

“$250 for AIDS and hearing test”

Only at a country music festival…

Popping back up on stage, I earned a new side gig acting as a guitar tech for Easton Corbin. My big moment came when I ushered a guitar out on stage and whispered in a semi-shout, “Turn this thing on!”

Aha! aiding me in my new career.

Being that I was embarking on a new profession called for a celebration with the crew.

Four cheers for my abilities to guitar tech volunteer!

Many celebratory cocktails later, we were crooning along to our fave country tunes with our closest 75,000 friends.

Luke Bryan looking good in the fabulously lit hood.

When it was all said and done, we headed back to our home on wheels that looked like it’d been through a 21 day excursion, instead of our 48 hour trip.

Anyone see the Captain?

Of course I was still enamoured with the mirrored ceiling that provided yours truly with endless entertainment.

Mirror mirror on the ceiling, I still find this overly appealing.

Returning home, the only thing I could do Monday night was sift through the weekend aftermath in my purse.

Remnants of a fun-filled two days.

In case you were wondering, this photo is a direct reflection of how my liver is still feeling.

Until the next tour…

CBXB

 

 

 

 

Anthony Kiedis Ate Me Like a Grape

Yep. The Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Hello Red Hot Chili Peppers. I’ll be your Iowa City tour guide whether you like it or not.

While attending the University of Iowa, I joined a student group (SCOPE Productions) that was in charge of bringing music acts to our campus venues.  Not only did we book shows, we handled all aspects of the production, marketing, finance and hospitality.

Greeting the 18 wheelers at 8am for a load-in, setting up dressing rooms (meeting requests like making sure there was a pack of open cigarettes within reach of any seat in the room), dropping off tour staff laundry (NEVER look inside the bag, FYI) at the local Fluff ‘n’ Fold, restocking tour bus groceries, escorting talent wherever they wanted to go, fulfilling dietary needs of demanding artists, scheduling a masseuse, being at the ready during concerts for any during-the-show needs (I had to run a joint up to the stage once) and being a stage hand once the concert was over, assisting in the load-out of semis that would depart around 6am the following morning.

I loved it.

Mostly we’d handled semi-national acts, so it was a huge deal when SCOPE Productions landed the Red Hot Chili Peppers tour.  I was familiar with the rock group (mostly because of their socks over genitals shenanigans) and beyond excited I’d get a first hand glimpse at how true rock stars lived on the road.

Photo from thechilisource.com

This particular concert, I was assigned to the artists and dressing room set-up.  Upon completion of loading the dressing rooms with black shag rugs, endless cartons of cigarettes and what seemed like 4,000 cases of water, I came around the corner where I was greeted by Chad Smith (the RHCP drummer who has a striking resemblance to Will Ferrell) in his birthday suit who’d just been depantsed by Anthony Kiedis.

Wishing I had my sexy eye mask at this particular moment in time.

Act cool I kept telling myself as my mouth hung open to my knees.

Trying to tear my eyes away from a rock star with his pants around his ankles, I heard a soothing voice behind me say, “Welcome to the circus, Sweetie.” It was the RHCP’s personal chef, whom I would be assisting for the remainder of the day. His name was Jaime Laurita and he was big time in the celebrity catering world (he had published a cookbook, Plenty, with Sarah McLachlan I later found out) and he needed to get to a Whole Foods fast, as the Peppers were now eating organic (I had no clue WTF that meant).

At the time, I knew nothing beyond preparing ramen noodles in my hot-pot and opening a bag of Cheetos (little did I know the nearest Whole Foods was four hours away in Chicago), so I offered information that a Wal-Mart was three miles over yonder.

Idiot college kid at your disposal. Lucky Jaime.

My statement was met with a blank stare. (I wasn’t sure if it was because I suggested the worst place in America to buy groceries or because I’d used the phrase ‘over yonder’.)  I was quickly schooled by my adviser that Iowa City had a food co-op (again, WTF?!) and I took Jaime there to load up on tofu (seriously, WTF?), fresh produce and cooking oils before heading back to prepare lunch for the band.

As soon as the aroma of tofu filled the air, the RHCP dudes came calling. Trying to act like I assisted a celebrity chef in preparing food for rock stars on a daily basis (while dying inside like a 13 year-old-girl), I almost squealed out loud when Anthony Kiedis came over to ask us a question.  As I turned toward the lead singer, he stopped and s-l-o-w-l-y looked me up from the tip-top of my head down to my Dr. Martens adorned feet and back up again.

In what felt like four hours of a stare down (mostly all of 92 seconds), I remember thinking I wished I’d had a cuter outfit on. And while I can’t quite remember exactly what I was wearing, I’m sure it was something along the lines of…

Read it and weep Anthony Kiedis. Too hot for you.

Chef Jaime turned around as Anthony sauntered away and said, “Girl. He just ate you like a gah-rape.”

Years later can you imagine what I was thinking about as the Red Hot Chili Peppers head banged around at the halftime show of the Super Bowl?

Here’s a clue…it wasn’t grapes.

CBXB

How to Get a Kiss From a New Kid on the Block

I kissed a New Kid and I liked it…

New Kids on the Block made the Earth go ’round when I was a kid in the early ’90s.  So finding out a tour would be stopping in Nashville, how could I say no to a concert with Boyz II Men (who were utterly fantastic), 98 Degrees (eh, mid-tempo sucky songs but featured a very hot Nick Lachey) and NKOTB?

OMG! OMG! OMG! I think I see Joey!

In order to stand out (or in my case, make a complete asshole of myself), dig your old concert t-shirt out and wear it proudly to the show (I can only wear t-shirts I did as a kid because I was a fat kid – that and my chest size has remained the same…lucky me!).

Bringing it back with vintage, baby.

Once arriving to the arena, just scream your brains out while waiting for the dream boats to take the stage.

I couldn’t stop shrieking to pose for a pic.

Then the lights go down, the moment arrives and you act like you’re seeing The Beatles’ American debut.

Fab Five! OMG!

Holy shit! They’re here!

Because I have sharp joints, I was able to elbow my way up to the walkway and oogle over my new favorite New Kid (Joey – now with a grown up name of Joe has always been my favorite, as we were going to get married, live in Boston, have three kids and five dogs but for some reason, I’m falling a little short of that dream as I’m currently not married to him and the love of my life is a cat…hmm…) Donnie Wahlberg.

Donnie and his sparkly skull belt = my match made in heaven.

And then, it was further confirmed that we were destined to be together once I saw his abs.

So as I jostled my way up to the barrier where NKOTB walked from the main stage to a stage in the middle of the crowd, I immediately hatched a plan to be a stand-out in a sea of 14,994 ladies (there were about 6 dudes in attendance that I could see).

What NKOTB member wouldn’t appreciate a fuchsia lip?

After you gussy yourself up, put on your nonchalant, I am not a super huge fan (although I’m currently wearing your face at 18 years of age on my t-shirt) face and wait for your selected NKOTB member to fall in love with you in one fateful glance.

Primped and ready to go! Oh Donnie!!!

And then, something truly amazing happened. As the New Kids were running through and slapping hands at the end of the show, I was patiently waiting for Donnie to look my way when, out of nowhere Jonathan Knight stopped right in front of me, put his hand behind my head, pulled me in and kissed me on the lips. Like kiss kissed (that is until my two girlfriends (Bitches! Stealing my moment!) cock blocked me and yanked him their way, which forced a security guard to pull my new love away from me).

This is what happened when his lips hit mine. Wasn’t it sweet he arranged confetti to drop at the exact moment we were having our ‘moment’?

As I watched my new-found love being whisked away, I demanded to stay until he came back out and asked me to join him on the tour bus. But security got to my group first and pushed us out of the arena. F’ing guards doing their jobs. Ugh.

Being that I was on cloud nine (and still am calling and texting my friends daily to remind them of my encounter) all I could do while walking to the car was celebrate.

I KISSED JONATHAN!

Then it dawned on me…I was just open mouth kissed by a man I can never have. No, not because I’m a bad kisser – because Jonathan is the gay man of the group. F! But wait, what woman doesn’t want a gorgeous gay man by her side, telling her how pretty she looks, what shoes go best with skinny jeans and a constant guide in the area of whether I need the push up bra or not.  I’m going to ask this man to marry me.

I think I went wrong in using the fuchsia lipstick to attract Donnie, as only a gay man can truly, truly appreciate the color. But it was fate.

Hey, did I tell you that I kissed Jonathan Knight from New Kids on the Block?

I’ll be sure to remind you of it again tomorrow.

CBXB