On Sunday, I was at Blossom for FIFTEEN HOURS. Guarding the dressing room. A very unprofessional move on my part, but here is a photo one of the crew let me take:
But that’s not even the cool part.
Gene Simmons totally sat on me.
Clocked in at 9:30. Got home at 1 a.m. Fell asleep at 2 a.m. Woke up at 5 a.m. Unloaded a truck at Macy’s at 6 a.m. Class. Kung fu. Came home and crashed, completely missing Lana’s 21st birthday. Woke up at 5 a.m. today. Macy’s. Class. Have to do it again tomorrow. My body is in shock from minimal sleep and nourishment. My parents want to kick out my brother. Romance? I’ve forgotten what that is.
But…I felt Gene Simmons’ balls on my lap through the spandex of his getup.
My life is worth something.
Advertisement
OMG. Gene fucking Simmons. There was nothing exciting about my birthday. I somehow ended up out the night before and puked a whole lot. I didn’t even drink last night. I felt crappy all day yesterday and a good portion of today. I now have a swollen lymph node. It hurts to tilt my head up.
Whats Napoleon syndrome?