That gig we did together last year
So, I treated myself to a ticket to the taping of Livewire tonight because Storm and the Balls were one of the musical guests. I figured it was a good cheap way to see Storm, which I've been wanting to do, without committing to a whole show which, frankly, I'm not sure would be my kind of music for a whole night. But after meeting her a year ago when she opened for Dirty Martini's holiday show (in which I was briefly featured and so got to hang out backstage all night), I was helplessly sucked in to the travesty that was Rockstar Supernova this summer because of her.
From my brief time with her backstage, I grocked that underneath that sexy, sulty, slutty, foulmouthed outer shell, was a soft gooey and really sweet center. Maybe it was the way she mothered me all night and kept telling me to drink water for my headache and called me a little whore (but with so much love!) at the same time. Of course I was happy for her getting her 15 minutes (which will no doubt be longer, since as Courtenay pointed out, no one else from Rockstar--including the winner--got a song in the top 5 on the Billboard charts) and have been wanting to see her since she escaped the rabbit hole.
As a bonus, there was the rest of Livewire, which was entertaining and twisted as always. As a double bonus, I got my Haiku picked for the audience Haiku segment and it will probably get on the air except everyone will think I'm lying that it was mine since Ralph DIDN'T FUCKING GIVE ME CREDIT when he read it. But I know the truth. And I still get my schwag, which is a gift certificate to Powells, books. Go me, it's my birthday.
I especially loved when Courtenay mentioned Storm's engagement to Balls base player Davey Nipples and asked if she was going to change her name to Storm Large Nipples. (The answer-- Storm Large *hyphen* Nipples).
As a triple overtime bonus, I got to hear Linda Hornbuckle et al sing a new Christmas song that Jim Brunberg of Mississippi Studios recorded as a benefit for Henderson House domestic violence shelter. I don't get to hear Linda sing nearly enough anymore.
Unfortunately, by the time the show was over, I had to pee something awful and immediately ran upstairs to the bathroom. By the time I got back downstairs, pushed my way against the crowd to get back to the auditorium, gave Ralph shit for not crediting my Haiku, gave my info to get my schwag, said hi to Allison from Oregon Considered and made my way backstage---Storm had left. Damn! Ok yes, I admit it, I was hoping to say hello and perhaps get another one of those hugs where my head disappears completely into her fake, but ample bosom. Ah well, next time.
I did see Wendy, the publicist for Dirty Martini and Livewire, backstage talking to the aforementioned Mr Nipples, (isn't that just fun to say?) and Trish, one of the actors from the show who was lucky enough to get her boob signed by Storm on stage, in front of God, the Devil and everyone, and who picked my Haiku for Ralph to read. Wendy made introductions and everyone was appropriately appalled that Ralph forgot to say my name (no, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?). I'm not going to share it here, you'll just have to listen to the show or the podcast after it airs.
So, after we were done expressing our outrage, I turn to Davey and say, "And you must be Davey," since we hadn't gotten that far with official intros and I didn't want to be rude.
And Davey says, "Oh yeah, I know who you are, we did that gig with you last year."
"Yes," I said, "the Dirty Martini holiday show."
"Right!'
Now, I don't want a medal for this or anything, but I just would like to note that I did NOT turn to Wendy or Trish and say the words, "Yeah, we did a gig together last year," even though my inner dork (yes, I said *inner*, you want to make somethin' of it?) was jumping up and down as if I had been admitted to the inner sanctum of cool musician-hood. Oh yeah, I did a gig with Davey and Storm before they hit it big--that was right before I appeared on the Stolen Sweets' latest album.
Davey assured me that Storm knew who I was, and he'd give her my love.
And with that (and free books!), I called it a night.
From my brief time with her backstage, I grocked that underneath that sexy, sulty, slutty, foulmouthed outer shell, was a soft gooey and really sweet center. Maybe it was the way she mothered me all night and kept telling me to drink water for my headache and called me a little whore (but with so much love!) at the same time. Of course I was happy for her getting her 15 minutes (which will no doubt be longer, since as Courtenay pointed out, no one else from Rockstar--including the winner--got a song in the top 5 on the Billboard charts) and have been wanting to see her since she escaped the rabbit hole.
As a bonus, there was the rest of Livewire, which was entertaining and twisted as always. As a double bonus, I got my Haiku picked for the audience Haiku segment and it will probably get on the air except everyone will think I'm lying that it was mine since Ralph DIDN'T FUCKING GIVE ME CREDIT when he read it. But I know the truth. And I still get my schwag, which is a gift certificate to Powells, books. Go me, it's my birthday.
I especially loved when Courtenay mentioned Storm's engagement to Balls base player Davey Nipples and asked if she was going to change her name to Storm Large Nipples. (The answer-- Storm Large *hyphen* Nipples).
As a triple overtime bonus, I got to hear Linda Hornbuckle et al sing a new Christmas song that Jim Brunberg of Mississippi Studios recorded as a benefit for Henderson House domestic violence shelter. I don't get to hear Linda sing nearly enough anymore.
Unfortunately, by the time the show was over, I had to pee something awful and immediately ran upstairs to the bathroom. By the time I got back downstairs, pushed my way against the crowd to get back to the auditorium, gave Ralph shit for not crediting my Haiku, gave my info to get my schwag, said hi to Allison from Oregon Considered and made my way backstage---Storm had left. Damn! Ok yes, I admit it, I was hoping to say hello and perhaps get another one of those hugs where my head disappears completely into her fake, but ample bosom. Ah well, next time.
I did see Wendy, the publicist for Dirty Martini and Livewire, backstage talking to the aforementioned Mr Nipples, (isn't that just fun to say?) and Trish, one of the actors from the show who was lucky enough to get her boob signed by Storm on stage, in front of God, the Devil and everyone, and who picked my Haiku for Ralph to read. Wendy made introductions and everyone was appropriately appalled that Ralph forgot to say my name (no, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?). I'm not going to share it here, you'll just have to listen to the show or the podcast after it airs.
So, after we were done expressing our outrage, I turn to Davey and say, "And you must be Davey," since we hadn't gotten that far with official intros and I didn't want to be rude.
And Davey says, "Oh yeah, I know who you are, we did that gig with you last year."
"Yes," I said, "the Dirty Martini holiday show."
"Right!'
Now, I don't want a medal for this or anything, but I just would like to note that I did NOT turn to Wendy or Trish and say the words, "Yeah, we did a gig together last year," even though my inner dork (yes, I said *inner*, you want to make somethin' of it?) was jumping up and down as if I had been admitted to the inner sanctum of cool musician-hood. Oh yeah, I did a gig with Davey and Storm before they hit it big--that was right before I appeared on the Stolen Sweets' latest album.
Davey assured me that Storm knew who I was, and he'd give her my love.
And with that (and free books!), I called it a night.