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The Poison Tour Diary via Metal Sludge

Date June 26, 2001 / 301 reads / No comments yet



"Hot Lips, Tank Girl & The Down Side Of Colon Cleansing"

Day 1 (The recap)

Dear Sludge Diary,

Here we go again with another long 800 some odd mile trek across these United States. This is touring! Big Ray made the coffee this morning. This is a feat of unprecedented proportions since Big Ray is usually M.I.A. till we hit the hotel parking lot. Yep, strong stuff Ray makes, it'll bring ya down from any high and up from any drunk.
Earlier in the week in Green Bay...
Odd, odd gig. Great gig, but odd. Here we are on Indian territory with everything under the sun comped and right next to a casino on a day off with limo transportation and that spells nothin' but trouble for me. Indians people are some of the most receptive people on the planet but they can get crazy at times and that's why I love 'em! After a fine dining experience, most of us did pretty well in the casino. $110 bucks is a $110 bucks and I was proud of my self after an hour or so on the dollar slots. Bobby and Bret choose blackjack, C.C. made a brief appearance and Smoothie just lost everything. Sorry bro, it happens to the best of us. We made a few friends and after the ride from hell, I was very tired and went to bed. An actual bed rather than a bunk. It was quite nice. Various members of the road crew hooked up with chicks but as for me, I was alone. Go figure.
Well, the next day, the gig itself, in spite of being a small stage, was a fuckin' rippin' show. The people that were there were 100% out of their minds. It was oversold and I thought that with the small barricade that we were going to get rushed and loose everything. Some how by the grace of the great spirits, all went well. All in all, this Poison only show was way better than I had imagined. We would gladly play this place again.

Let's now trek on to Fargo...

Semi long run up there only to find ourselves in a race track. Good stage and lighting rig, but basically trailers and tents for dressing rooms and catering. I like trailers. I used to have one. I do miss it and besides, I am a Trailer Park Casanova at heart. No Warrant, no Quiet Riot and no Enuff Z Nuff. Just Poison... again.

Robo and I decided to walk over to the fairgrounds and take a look at the 150 foot bungie-strap-your ass into a flying fuckin chair-ride. 0 to 70 in one second at 3 G's! Fuckin'-A folks, ya gotta do this one if you ever get a chance. I had no choice once I was there. There were like 300 people hanging around with cameras and shit and you just can't puss out at a time like this. Well, dick wad me, had to be the asshole of the moment and put my hands behind my head to try and be cool which makes the descent flip you backwards. Descending from 150 feet plus feet at 200 miles an hour is more than a rush, it's downright venomous to the little bit of brain that I have left! I staggered off the chair and ended up taking pics with fans who were laughing at me looking like I was a drunk. I fuddled back to my rock n roll trailer to shit, shower and shave before the show. (I have included a self portrait pic of me in my trailer haven for your viewing displeasure.)
Now this show looked like a real old school rock show and the 10,000 plus in attendance were happy as all hell. I saw a Dr. Rockett sign and it made me feel right at home. I got the party in charge of that sign a pass, but after show guests got fucked by a few local security people and the powers that be. I guess Poison had violated the code of conduct here in Fargo and the powers that be were none too happy with us with our overcrowded backstage free for all. We did manage to have some friends from Hooters make it back, about 12 of 'em. I wonıt even make a long story short. I just won't tell the story at all, lest I get some of 'em in trouble. It was almost all good though, but I will say this, my evening ended with me as a puke target. Fuckazo, I now know how ya feel bro!
Speaking of Fuckazo, I got "Stepped into" the Vint Drum Mafia officially in Duluth, MN. yesterday. I was awarded a 1970's Ludwig snare drum and a new name. I am herby now known as Rocko. Although I can never get officially "made" because I lack Italian blood, I am family now. I am low on the totem poll and I have been asked already to do some Vint Drum Hits for the collector fellas on the West Coast. Kinda cute, huh?
Duluth... During the day, a few of us staggered into the gun show next door. A few of us purchased high powered full auto BB guns. A few of us have severe black and blue marks. Good news is, we all have kept our eyes intact. Bad news is, our production manager took all of our high tech toys away. Boo hoo!!!
As for the Duluth show, it was like the glory days. Sold out to the hilt! Not one ass could find one open seat. I'm not used to in-door gigs anymore and this one was a really nice change. Minnesota loves it's rock n roll and that is fuckin' that! I partied on the Enuff 'Z' Nuff's bus for a while after and I flirted with some girls that had no interest in me whatsoever. Funny what a little contact high can do for your inhibitions. I made the mistake of using Fuckazo's pick-up line on one. "Hey, it ain't gonna suck itself!" Boy, that one works well. Not! I did manage to finagle a massage out of one chick though. Ricky Parent was jealous. Ever see Ricky's thumbs? They are alien like. I guess that's why he's good at massage. Big assed thumpin' fuckers his thumbs are. Now I know where he gets the name thumper. Geez, I thought there was better story than that!

... Damn, these long runs suck ass!...
We are now on our way to the fine state of Kansas. Bret and I have been discussing a line of Poison dildos that we have underway. The multi colored "Nothin' but a good time", The talking "Talk dirty to me" and of course the extra thick "Unskinny Bop" models will be the first in the series. I think we'll skip the "Poor boy blues" model, though. However, some fake fur lined handcuffs called "The cat dragged in" model might fair well too. The remote controlled wiggling "Your mamma don't dance" , the pump up version "Ride the wind" and the french tickler version called the "Every rose" will be released second in the line.

Day 2 (The arrival)
I am fuckin' tired! I tied one on last night. I'm serious when I say that I don't drink much anymore. So, when I do, I really feel it these days. Well, it all started with me wanting to soak up a little local color here in Wichita, Kansas. Smoothie and I ended up at a local pub with four girls who gave us a ride from the local mall. Hot Lips was my escort and between her and Tank Girl, I was forced to drink... alot. Since rule number one with me is : "Thou shall not Sludge the innocent" I shant. Hot Lips was about as nice as nice can be and I just won't go there. O.K., she was a bit evil, but nice. Ya know, a "bad kitty" and thatıs good!
Anyway, I had a few drinks in me and with a bit of a haze now shrouding my abilities to act cool, I was getting cross eyed starring at Hot Lip's mouth.
O.K... Smash cut to when I got turned on earlier in the week to the notion that one must cleanse thy colon. It's supposed to be simple, just take these caplets with lots of water and in about a day you will cleanse. If it doesnıt work, take some more. Well, I did. Why? Well, nothing happened.
O.K., back to the pub... So, I'm, starring at her and she's starring at me. This is electric, I'm thinking. Yeah, maybe she is drunk and the fact is, if one does drink enough, I can look pretty damn dapper in a low light situation. She no longer was wearing her glasses, she's now about drunk and so I'm actually pretty cute to her at this moment. I don't know if it was the last shot or what, but suddenly I can audibly hear a gurgling in my stomach. Hot Lips thinks Iım purring and gives me that, "You bad boy" smile. I decide that a trip to the boys room might be a good idea
I stagger to the back of the pub where the bathroom is only to discover that there is a line of five people. No problem, I'll wait. Gurgle number 2 kicks in with the force of a Kansas tornado. O.K., that's it! I have to go and I have to go now! Getting ready to give birth can't feel much different than this feeling. Well, that is if you gave birth out your ass. You know what I mean. I guess I was turning Poison green because some dude looks at me and goes, "Bro, you O.K.?" I go, "Not really, I think Iım gonna be sick." He goes, "Come on guys let the man go first!" Now, in this guys brain, I'll stumble into the can, puke and get the fuck out. No biggie. It happens all the time. Not so simple. I do in fact stagger in, but that is where that guys' perception ends. Here I am in this rancid fuckin bathroom and I donıt even take the 2 seconds to put down an ass gasket. I plop right down on the fucker and start to blow the fuckin' shit blizzard from hell! It feels like my entire ass is caving in! There is shit and water kickin' back up on my ass like it was attached to five thousand little bungie cords!
Finally, when the dust settles, so to speak, I find myself in the most difficult situation in recent memory. There is approximately 2 toilet paper panels left on the roll. Their is an old saying, "Life is like a roll of toilet paper, it goes faster towards the end". Well, in this case, I'm near death. Now envision this people, five guys in line, I just shit a masterpiece of epic proportions complete with surround sound and effects, and there is hardly enough T.P. for an action figure. Ahh, hah! Ass gasket? Maybe that will work as makeshift T.P. Oh, shit! That's empty too. O.K., I'm fucked. Come on Rikki, you can rig just about anything, how can you fail in such a simple task as to find an alternative to standard T.P.? Bam, bam, knock, knock. Now the natives are restless and demanding relief for themselves for all the big buds they have consumed. I hate this idea, but maybe I can use my underwear! Yeah, I'll wipe my ass with underwear! What can else can I possibly do? Well, maybe socks. Actually, this job will probably require the use of my socks and underwear. Dammit, my favorite Calvins too! In the end, no pun intended, this was gross. In fact, there needs to be a new word for gross.
So, here I come forth from the bathroom of despair, sockless, underwear less and sweating bullets from the torrid spell. I say in no particular direction as I emerge, "Damn, I don't know who was in there last, but fuckin' A!" I can hear some guy who is just entering the shit prison commenting, "Jeezus fuckin' christ! What fuckin' died in here?!" Some other guy is goin', "The drummer for Poison was in there. Fuckin' gross dude!" I ignore the latter comment.
Hot Lips? Where did Hot Lips go? Folks, do I even need to finish this story? Is there a worse embarrassment on the planet than loosing a potential angelic encounter to a horrid shit blizzard? I'm drunk at some fuckin' place with a sore ass, sockless, underwear less and no ride. That's right! By now, the few road crew entourage that once graced this place have all gone back to the hotel, except for my trusty security guy, Smoothie. Hot Lips is nowhere in sight and even Tank Girl who always stays till last call high tailed it out of there. Yeah, and even Warrant's tour manager, (who by the way I finally bought him a drink) had taken off. Some guy that looked like Timothy Leary with a twitch was still there, but he wasn't about to even make eye contact with me. I find myself having a new found respect for how the Hunch Back of Notre Dame must have felt. I was... well... just have some sympathy for me, O.K.!
I hate cabs. My mother broke water in my Dad's cab when she was expecting me and I must have a thing for them now. I got even sicker as the cab drove me back to the hotel. I survived to write this entry and I survive in spite of Hot Lips abandoning me at the bar. But guess what? When I arrived back at the hotel, Hot Lips was there. She was concerned about me, felt guilty and went to the hotel to see if I was O.K. I told ya she was cool. If she wasn't, her name and address would be in this diary! I shall say no more of this experience as my stomach is gurgling as I write. Hot Lips sez she'll be at the show tonight. Unless she hears of this escapade, I might be able to continue where I left off with her... just maybe.

Tank Girl talked me into her letting her cut and color my hair. You just don't fuck with Tank Girl when she gets an idea in her head so I let her do her thing. People say they like the way it came out. I've had so many colors over my life time that I'm almost indifferent anymore. Highlights of this experience include Tank Girls boobs in my face during the "rinse phase" and drinking beer in the cutting chair. Doesn't take much to entertain me these days!

The Wichita Show...
Awesome! Fuckin' awesome! The monitor mix sucked, but the band performed well and the crowd was top notch. I think I have a genuine love for this town. Hot Lips never did show. I guess I left her a little dry the night before. Tank Girl and her crew showed up and they are all hell raisers. God love 'em!
I hung out with Dr. Mark and his beautiful wife along with some new and old friends after. I'll just make a brief mention about a sweet blonde princess who wants me to marry her. She cleans teeth very well. Well, that was the brief mention! Not that she doesn't deserve more, but certainly not in this cheesy piece of word gluttony.
Kansas City...
I find myself in the back seat of a car driving to a music store with Fuckazo at my side sometime in the mid afternoon. After all, I am now a full fledged member of the Vint Drum Mafia and I have to do my duty for the Fuckazo Drum Crime Family. Nothing much at Mars music as far as vint drums, but the folks there are hell fuckin' nice. During our Mars drive-by, The Family gets a tip that there is a vint store about 20 miles out from where we are. Working from this tip, we figure we'll do another quick drive-by and see what the delio is. Well, two and half hours later The Family emerges with a 1970 Rogers drum kit and a 70's Ludwig snare! Not a bad day! The only thing that was bad is that our car driver, "Steeler Jeff", is lost. Very Lost! Johnny Smooth couldn't figure the map either. Yep, Fuckazo, Rocko, Steeler Jeff and Smoothie are all but a feather in the dusty Kansas wind.
Well, we finally arrive back at the home base gig and the radio meet 'n' greet that I was supposed to attend was way over. Sorry people, I wasn't the one driving! The Show... I find myself elated to discover that the Kansas City fans are all dressed up and ready to rock 'n' fuckinı roll! What a bitchin' show! I never wanna miss this town on a tour! Thanks to the local dry cleaners, Bret's wooly mammoth jacket was fresh and clean too!
After show was crowded but fun. I received a twin set of plastic fetus dolls from my old female aquaintences that were highlighted in last years diary as the girls from Manscreamhole. Thank you ladies! But please, get over the obnoxious punk thing already. I never did 'get' it in the first place.
Last year keeps following me as I notice that Starlett The Vargas Girl has returned to the scene. (see last years diary) I was quite glad to see her again. She now has moved on in her adept Vargas era to a new and refined Bridget Bardot look. This suits her well too. Bardot was my first silver screen crush besides Marcia Brady being my TV crush. Starlett is the bomb. I love ya sweetie!
I think the worst thing I did here was to teach Tank Girl how to do a "rear naked choke" Jiu-Jitsu style. She was choking more and more people out the drunker she got. She bites hard as hell and the crotch grab she slammed on me kinda hurt too. But damn, she really is a cutie. I'll miss all of you as we move down this rock 'n' roll road. Yeah, even you, Cash.
Well, now it's off to Bottineau, N.D. Other than another long bus ride from hell, (yeah, I'm winging and whineing) this should be another neato experience in the long run.

--Rikki
Producer of the hit video, "When good colon cleansing goes bad."

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