Okay, this is a little long, but I promise the story is not predictable. So don’t speed read through!
Gibson has hooked me up. So, I go to their amazing headquarters, first thing you see when you walk in is a giant picture of Les Paul. Then I got the grand tour, got to go into their candy store, and pick out a guitar to use for the shoot. Pretty awesome. Met a few celeb’s hangin’ on their campus. I’m the freshman.
The guitar I pick for the shoot turns out to be a lefty guitar. Jim, my new bud at Gibson says, “that’s a lefty!” I said, “It’s just for the shoot, what’s the difference? Besides, I’m politically left!” He laughed, but said, “it might come back to bite you!” But I liked the color, it matches my earrings!
Then Scott and I drop off the guitar at Associated Press building, along with my clothes for the shoot. I didn’t want to lug the guitar around, or my stuff. The shoot was not for another 90 minutes.
This woman with the personality of a tree stump applied the lashes. I was telling her about the shoot, and was going to give her my CD for helping me. I asked her what kind of music she listened to, she said, “Britney Spears“. I said,” I don’t think you are gonna like my music, then….do you like Sheryl Crow?” She said, “No.” So I didn’t bother giving her “Emotional Jukebox”.
Then I went to the lingerie department to get “chicken cutlets”. You guys ready for this one? I learned this when I was getting fitted for the dress. Ya know how some women look so hot on the Red Carpet? Chicken Cutlets.
It’s like these rubber things that you actually stick onto your boobs. You clip them together, and it pushes your boobies up, to make it look like you actually have some, if you don’t. That would be me. $65 bucks! I will keep them, even if I lose! (Plus, I don’t think you can return them.)
Hubby was driving Miss Crazy today. I told him I would call him when I was done, and he could do a drive by, and dump me, my false eye-lashes and chicken cutlets at the photo shoot.
So, as I am taking the escalator up to the 6th floor, to lingerie, I go fishing around my coat to try and find my cell phone. No sign. My eye-pencil, that is shoved in my pocket, with my lipstick, falls out, get’s caught in the escalator, and as I try to retrieve it, it snaps, and just misses my eye as it flings out of control like a javelin. (Another 25 bucks out the window.)
The ladies were way nicer in the lingerie department! So, I finish getting my boob job, and asked to borrow a phone to call hubby, from a kind lady, who didn’t need any cutlets. She had nice giant meatballs.
Hub didn’t answer. (Probably didn’t recognize the number). I tell his voicemail to meet me at the Northeast corner of 7th Avenue, and 34th Street. Hey! I’m the second miracle on 34th street, now that I miraculously have boobs!
So, I go outside, and he is pulled over on the Southeast corner of 34th street. I have 10 minutes to get to 33rd and 10th.
But the car is pointing East, and you can’t turn right until fucking 5th Avenue!
I’m stressing. Can’t find my phone. Don’t even have the number to call, if we would be late. It’s in the phone. We turn right on 33rd, have to cross town. We get to Broadway, and you can’t go through. So we had to go South another 2 blocks before we can head West again.
We get to 31st Street, bang a right. Traffic is backed up. We cross 7th. Between 7th and 8th, we are just sitting there. I, once again, look through my coat, to try and find my phone; and look under the seat.
Tap, Tap, on the window. Cop. Pull over. I don’t have my fucking seat belt on, because I took it off, to look for the phone. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! You’ve got to be kidding!? I tell him, please officer, I just lost my phone, I have a really important photo shoot, here’s the pass for AP, I just got nominated for a Grammy, I’m going to be late! I’m not a big star! I’m just an Indie, and 51!
Yeah, just give me your license and wait in the car. He didn’t give a crap. So we waited….and waited…I’m officially late. I’m pissed off! I want to cry, but I don’t want my make-up to run!
Ten minutes later, he gives me a ticket for 130 bucks. (That’s 4 chicken cutlets!) I thought having my new big boobs would have gotten me out of the ticket.
Now I have to shake this off, and show up ready to look my best! Oh boy.
I’m in a shit mood. Still swearing. (If you can imagine me doing that.) Ya know, before being nominated, I would have written down what I was calling that cop to myself in the car, but now I’m in the public eye, and can’t say cock sucker.
So I am waiting for an escort to the studio, and CNN is on. I see blood. I see civilians in Syria shot, and being dragged away. I felt awful for them. Then I think my day isn’t so bad.
I find my phone. I had left it with the lefty guitar.
Afterwards, I got a text from Jim, asking how the shoot went with the lefty guitar. I said, I stood on my head and played it, so it all worked out. Then he texted me back, “You are crazy!”
Yup, and I have huge knockers now, too!