Well, this may have been my longest hiatus from blogging yet, and I apologize. But it's not my fault!!! As you may note from the picture below, I was abducted by a runaway herd of black sheep for months and months and was forced into many wrongdoings…..(story of my life)....
Umm.....okay, not really.......I have no valid excuse for my laziness, so I must now promptly blame it on the evils (and addictive ease) of the ever-trendy Facebook...a modern day, wasteful, mind-numbing, time-sucking DEVIL!!!! Oh snap! Hang on a sec, someone just made a comment on my FB status...gotta check it.....BRB…
Okay! I’m back. So I thought a good return to this blog would be to recap my comical year of 2008 for you….I know it’s almost February 2009, but what else would you expect from me but a significantly overdue diatribe of the touring industry accompanied by a highlight reel of my ridiculous escapades.
So let’s see…After a gracious 36 hours at home for Christmas 2007, I returned to the 8th ring of hell to finish the R. Kelly tour.
Just to recap..........
Just to reiterate...
booty booty booty booty booty booty booty.....
Luckily enough, I would only have to bite the bullet for 2 more weeks of this slum circus! And so on New Year’s Eve 2008, after another electrifying, sold-out show in Miami, (um, not really) I was in the midst of pondering the past two months and what the next several months' adventure would bring once I made my break from the ghetto - when, after a 1 a.m. load-out, my crew yelled at me to “Hurry up – shower and change! – The bus drivers are going to wait on US for once!!” (we had to wait on them frequently as they refused to take us to the next city several times until they had received some sort of a paycheck or cash from R. Kelly’s production team – nice). So I zipped into my finest bus p.j.’s and followed my crew with reckless abandon! After fighting long line after long line on this notoriously crazy holiday night, we finally found someplace with very little wait, and after paying a $20 cover charge in a dark, seedy entrance hallway, we were ushered in to "Celebrate the New Year!!"…….....IN.........A....... strip club! $10 beers and boobs.....Just the way to embark on a new year of promise and 'CHANGE' ("Can I get 15 ones and a five to tip please?"). How do I get roped into this shit? Aha! The black sheep herder! That's how!
Well, we clearly got the job done in a very short time as Rob demonstrates in this charming 4 a.m. “slumber” in the front lounge (you may not notice the drool coming from his mouth, but please appreciate the festive, decorative toilet paper I added!). “Happy New Year!”
Well, at the end of the tour, as a result of my “good attitude,” (bitchiness) my "great leadership," (bitchiness), and being the only girl (bitch), I was awarded the “Crew Chief 'HBIC' (head bitch in charge) Trophy.” Those boys are so cute when they finally realize their place.
Ahhh…R. Kelley tour…..2 months of my life I will never forget (as much as I drink), and 2 months of my life I will never get back (as many therapy sessions as I complete).
Right back atcha, Kells.....It is because of who YOU are, that I am the cynical, disillusioned bitch that I am today.
With the promise of Bruce Springsteen and humane treatment just around the corner, I returned to Arizona to celebrate laughter with my dear friends,
climb a mountain with Dr. Drunk Ash Alicia,
and work towards a healthier life in 2008 (still trying to find that in 2009)
with an anonymous person who works for, but happens to be the antithesis of this company!!!
Little did I know my long, arduous journey towards the Springsteen camp would again suffer another hurdle…
A hurdle of monumental size…an insurmountable feat… an obstacle of epic proportions…a ginormous pain in the ass SOOO large, it could only be attested to……
Heartburn?
Indigestion?
Or...could it be???
The 2008 Spice Girls Reunion Tour. Are you f#@!ing kidding me?
After the company I used to work for respectfully handed me my own ass for taking another tour (Springsteen) with a competing company (long story) they conveniently begged me to ‘squeeze in’ one month of the hellish ‘Spice’ pandemonium before the promise of greener pastures in the utopia known as the Bruce Springseen camp.
So reluctantly, out of guilt, and not wanting to burn the bridge that was being held together merely by a string, I agreed. Doh!
24 semi-trucks of shit crammed into arenas that usually can only take up to 18. More video gear than I've ever seen in one place. 20 sold-out shows (in 30 days) of garishly dressed gay men, 30-something has-beens, shrill-screaming pre-teens and their rich, drunk, cougar moms (and I'm just talking about the people ON the stage - you should see the people in the audience!!).
I liken the show to this recipe…
Tear two pixie-sticks open and pour them into the right side of your cheek. Take two more pixie-sticks and pour them into the left side of your cheek. Finally, insert a giant wad of cotton candy starting at the back of your throat, filling any remaining space in your mouth until you almost feel the effects of suffocation…..Allow teeth to ache severely before vomiting. And that, my friends, is the recipe for working on/watching the Spice Girls Reunion show. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.....argh...if only I knew how to accompany them with a gagging sound byte........
Sorry these pics are only of the massive video walls during video play back, but I could not take pictures during the show as I was huddled behind this camera (notice the bags under my eyes as a direct result of this death march),
placed strategically in the middle of the screaming audience, and being constantly yelled at by a drill sergeant director to "Get the girl singing! Posh (the skinny bitch who looks like an alien), wait! No-It's Sporty (the one with the fake hair and freaky stage smile)! Fuck! Who is singing? Scary! Get Scary (the dominatrix bitch)! Jesus, it's Baby (the whiney bitch who can't sing for shit)! Ginger! Wait!! - Fuuuck!"
What can you say about Ginger....a lot. But most of it can be summed up by her solo number, "It's Raining Men," where she dry-humped 30 gay guys all over the stage in an outfit that was actually taken from a Rollerskate Barbie box at Target and shrunk down to look a bit sexier.
I will say, my favorite part of the show (mostly because I got a 5 minute break from shooting) was Victoria 'Posh' Beckham's giant solo march down the catwalk/runway....
Notice the "paparazzi" in front of the stage - which is jut some of the dancers with fake flash cameras to enhance the Hollywood hullabaloo of this fashion sensation......hmm......kinda reminds me of R. Kelly's fake security guards enhancing his need for protection from the haytas. Man, I'm really starting to think showbiz might be just one big sham......hmmmm......
And wouldn't you know it - after all the shit I went through - that her hot ass husband David Beckham was never there for even one show so I could ogle him?!?! Dirtball!
Here's a few more shots...
And at the end of tour party.......my dear friend "Tiny Dancer" couldn't have expressed it any better.....
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. (SPICE me the F#@! outta here!)
But wait!!! The end of tour bonus??? A picture, $500, and an autographed thank you note from "the girls," which I have been adamantly trying to sell on EBay ever since....anyone?
(click on photo for an enlarged picture of saran-wrapped enlarged breasts)
So NOOOOOW can I go to Bruce? Pleeeeease?!............
TO BE CONTINUED......
'2008 Part II' coming after some sleep and a few more beers......
Umm.....okay, not really.......I have no valid excuse for my laziness, so I must now promptly blame it on the evils (and addictive ease) of the ever-trendy Facebook...a modern day, wasteful, mind-numbing, time-sucking DEVIL!!!! Oh snap! Hang on a sec, someone just made a comment on my FB status...gotta check it.....BRB…
Okay! I’m back. So I thought a good return to this blog would be to recap my comical year of 2008 for you….I know it’s almost February 2009, but what else would you expect from me but a significantly overdue diatribe of the touring industry accompanied by a highlight reel of my ridiculous escapades.
So let’s see…After a gracious 36 hours at home for Christmas 2007, I returned to the 8th ring of hell to finish the R. Kelly tour.
Just to recap..........
Just to reiterate...
booty booty booty booty booty booty booty.....
Luckily enough, I would only have to bite the bullet for 2 more weeks of this slum circus! And so on New Year’s Eve 2008, after another electrifying, sold-out show in Miami, (um, not really) I was in the midst of pondering the past two months and what the next several months' adventure would bring once I made my break from the ghetto - when, after a 1 a.m. load-out, my crew yelled at me to “Hurry up – shower and change! – The bus drivers are going to wait on US for once!!” (we had to wait on them frequently as they refused to take us to the next city several times until they had received some sort of a paycheck or cash from R. Kelly’s production team – nice). So I zipped into my finest bus p.j.’s and followed my crew with reckless abandon! After fighting long line after long line on this notoriously crazy holiday night, we finally found someplace with very little wait, and after paying a $20 cover charge in a dark, seedy entrance hallway, we were ushered in to "Celebrate the New Year!!"…….....IN.........A....... strip club! $10 beers and boobs.....Just the way to embark on a new year of promise and 'CHANGE' ("Can I get 15 ones and a five to tip please?"). How do I get roped into this shit? Aha! The black sheep herder! That's how!
Well, we clearly got the job done in a very short time as Rob demonstrates in this charming 4 a.m. “slumber” in the front lounge (you may not notice the drool coming from his mouth, but please appreciate the festive, decorative toilet paper I added!). “Happy New Year!”
Well, at the end of the tour, as a result of my “good attitude,” (bitchiness) my "great leadership," (bitchiness), and being the only girl (bitch), I was awarded the “Crew Chief 'HBIC' (head bitch in charge) Trophy.” Those boys are so cute when they finally realize their place.
Ahhh…R. Kelley tour…..2 months of my life I will never forget (as much as I drink), and 2 months of my life I will never get back (as many therapy sessions as I complete).
Right back atcha, Kells.....It is because of who YOU are, that I am the cynical, disillusioned bitch that I am today.
With the promise of Bruce Springsteen and humane treatment just around the corner, I returned to Arizona to celebrate laughter with my dear friends,
climb a mountain with Dr. Drunk Ash Alicia,
and work towards a healthier life in 2008 (still trying to find that in 2009)
with an anonymous person who works for, but happens to be the antithesis of this company!!!
Little did I know my long, arduous journey towards the Springsteen camp would again suffer another hurdle…
A hurdle of monumental size…an insurmountable feat… an obstacle of epic proportions…a ginormous pain in the ass SOOO large, it could only be attested to……
Heartburn?
Indigestion?
Or...could it be???
The 2008 Spice Girls Reunion Tour. Are you f#@!ing kidding me?
After the company I used to work for respectfully handed me my own ass for taking another tour (Springsteen) with a competing company (long story) they conveniently begged me to ‘squeeze in’ one month of the hellish ‘Spice’ pandemonium before the promise of greener pastures in the utopia known as the Bruce Springseen camp.
So reluctantly, out of guilt, and not wanting to burn the bridge that was being held together merely by a string, I agreed. Doh!
24 semi-trucks of shit crammed into arenas that usually can only take up to 18. More video gear than I've ever seen in one place. 20 sold-out shows (in 30 days) of garishly dressed gay men, 30-something has-beens, shrill-screaming pre-teens and their rich, drunk, cougar moms (and I'm just talking about the people ON the stage - you should see the people in the audience!!).
I liken the show to this recipe…
Tear two pixie-sticks open and pour them into the right side of your cheek. Take two more pixie-sticks and pour them into the left side of your cheek. Finally, insert a giant wad of cotton candy starting at the back of your throat, filling any remaining space in your mouth until you almost feel the effects of suffocation…..Allow teeth to ache severely before vomiting. And that, my friends, is the recipe for working on/watching the Spice Girls Reunion show. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.....argh...if only I knew how to accompany them with a gagging sound byte........
Sorry these pics are only of the massive video walls during video play back, but I could not take pictures during the show as I was huddled behind this camera (notice the bags under my eyes as a direct result of this death march),
placed strategically in the middle of the screaming audience, and being constantly yelled at by a drill sergeant director to "Get the girl singing! Posh (the skinny bitch who looks like an alien), wait! No-It's Sporty (the one with the fake hair and freaky stage smile)! Fuck! Who is singing? Scary! Get Scary (the dominatrix bitch)! Jesus, it's Baby (the whiney bitch who can't sing for shit)! Ginger! Wait!! - Fuuuck!"
What can you say about Ginger....a lot. But most of it can be summed up by her solo number, "It's Raining Men," where she dry-humped 30 gay guys all over the stage in an outfit that was actually taken from a Rollerskate Barbie box at Target and shrunk down to look a bit sexier.
I will say, my favorite part of the show (mostly because I got a 5 minute break from shooting) was Victoria 'Posh' Beckham's giant solo march down the catwalk/runway....
Notice the "paparazzi" in front of the stage - which is jut some of the dancers with fake flash cameras to enhance the Hollywood hullabaloo of this fashion sensation......hmm......kinda reminds me of R. Kelly's fake security guards enhancing his need for protection from the haytas. Man, I'm really starting to think showbiz might be just one big sham......hmmmm......
And wouldn't you know it - after all the shit I went through - that her hot ass husband David Beckham was never there for even one show so I could ogle him?!?! Dirtball!
Here's a few more shots...
And at the end of tour party.......my dear friend "Tiny Dancer" couldn't have expressed it any better.....
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. (SPICE me the F#@! outta here!)
But wait!!! The end of tour bonus??? A picture, $500, and an autographed thank you note from "the girls," which I have been adamantly trying to sell on EBay ever since....anyone?
(click on photo for an enlarged picture of saran-wrapped enlarged breasts)
So NOOOOOW can I go to Bruce? Pleeeeease?!............
TO BE CONTINUED......
'2008 Part II' coming after some sleep and a few more beers......
posted by On The Road Again... at
6:50 PM
3 Comments:
Jimmy! You crack me up. Come home!!
Now you just need to come party in New Orleans. We'll keep an eye out for you. Miss you, girl!
Ah Hampton... I do love your blogs. They're better reading than the Twilight series.
Had a single crew member looked a little less tortured in that group photo, it might have helped your sales on E-Bay!
Love ya, biaatch!
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