Crutching Around On Life's Great Rollercoaster
The past few weeks have had both highs and lows. Well right now I'm on a low. Last night while trying to improve my health (yes, I am still running on a regular basis and consider the noise made by punching my thigh now---a sound well deserved) by playing tennis, I fell to the ground while going for one of those devilish backhands. After the cursing and as I continued to lay on the ground moaning in pain, my partner realized this was no joke. The tears came, shortly after I got the shoe off and saw how my normally delicate ankle had magically transformed into the size of a tennis ball. But this wasn't what made me cry. Oh no. It was realizing that as a result of my ankle being the size of a tennis ball I would have to go to the hospital to see just what damage I had done WITH NO HEALTH INSURANCE. As this thought crossed my mind, I began whaling and proceeded to go into hysterics over this minute detail.

Of course, the male nurse would just so happen to be an exquisite piece of man (with a wedding band, damnit) and try to make me laugh in my state of shock of the realization of huge bills I would have to face in my jobless state. I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, especially when he asked when my last period was, my reply being current, and he laughs and says, "I was waiting for that. Full moon, drags it out of everyone." Life is sweet, isn't it? Nothing like crying in front of a hot male nurse, telling him about my period, and then for him to joke about it.

But the evening got better when I was informed that it was just a sprain. Overall this was better though I then was mad that I had wasted my tears and money on a pointless hospital visit.

This sprain brings me to the topic of my unpaid internship job-thingy. Obviously, I won't be at work for a week as I can't drive. Normally, I would enjoy time off, but not when I can't move around or even stand up for a shower. Work has brought the excitement in my life up a few notches though on the weekends because of the events that I have worked.

On September 11th, I got to work the Foo Fighters/Weezer show that had about 11,000 in attendance. My job was to direct media/press to the press box or photographers to the pit (in front of the stage between stage and first row) for shots. I not only direct them there, but make sure they only shoot during the songs they are approved for-with Foo/Weezer, this was the first three songs of each of their sets. When I am not doing this, I'm allowed to watch the show. After all media was gone after first few songs of Foo Fighters, I was allowed to relax and watch from backstage on the side of the stage (where they switch out guitars and such).

I ended up talking to these two guys who had backstage passes on and were rockin out to the show. They ended up being Dave Grohl's best friends that grew up with him and were just traveling, enjoying the beginning of the tour. Not so bad right? Then they asked me to go back to the dressing room after the show to party a bit and hang out. The next thing I know, I am walking past Dave Grohl with his jeans leg rolled up wearing some great red high-top cons, getting his leg checked out for an injury from the night before while performing. Clearly it is safe bet to say this is a step up from the GROPER and Bricktown 54. Beer with hot best friend (Craig) of Dave Grohl while Foo Fighters are all hanging out around us. Yes. I'll give it three notches up at least.

I was hanging out with Craig, as I mentioned, very hot, very successful (civil engineer), very down-to-earth and lives in Florida. One of the other guys, Dale, was hysterically funny and drunk. After smacking a drunk 21-year-old-ass and looking at her underwear he proceeded to ask about mine. When I told him he couldn't look at it, he laughed, stepped back, and called me the nice girl, the marrying type. Craig then laughed, and said, "Now watch him walk away." As Dale backed away, Craig went into the details of how Dale's nickname Swoop (which was tatooed on his upper thigh, he so gladly dropped his pants to show me) came to be. Had something to do with Dale "swoopin" in on the ladies. After hanging out a bit more, security gave us the boot and said it was time to move along to the busses.

I ended up walking out with Dale, Tim (Dave's Cousin), Craig and Dave Grohl. Dale looked over at me as we were walking and said, "Well, look who ended up on the top shelf-the nice girl. I like you." Then Craig proceeded to ask me to come with them to Houston, where the next show was, on the busses. Of course I would do the responsible thing and say no-I had no clothes with me, tooth brush, money, and more importantly, no way back to St. Petersburg from Houston. Craig said Tim didn't have a way back either but I couldn't take the chance. So Craig got my number and I went home with a little star buzz.


The following week, I got to sing Hey Jude with Paul McCartney...along with 18,000 other people in the crowd. The show (I caught about half of it after my media directing was over) was sick awesome. The man can perform and really feeds off of his audience. After over 40 years of it, I would feel bad for the person that couldn't.

Yes, Sir Paul is no longer the young chap that won the hearts of millions of young girls that watched the Beatles debut on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, over four decades ago. He is now wrinkled, such a strict vegetarian that his crew can't even eat meat or they will be fired and dies his hair brown. Though he may be large enough to get away with all of these unattractive attributes, those who have to work backstage when he is in the area get looks of disgust as they know they will have to cater to his everyday rich, famous, outragous needs. Oh well, at least he still does many of the old songs and not all new stuff that no one knows or cares about that much. This makes it tolerable (and most people don't know he's an asshole behind the scenes.) All you need is love right? Hah, even Paul isn't living in the sixties anymore and his dressing room needs prove it.

So work may be boring, secretarial nastiness that I don't get paid for, but it does clearly have its perks. If nothing else comes out of my Florida experience, I can at least say that I partied with Rock Stars and sang with Paul McCartney.

On an ending note, I wanted to let everyone know who I share an office with, which makes for a loud and eventful day usually. Filled with MTV, bad music for the most part and calls being taken on speaker phone everytime. Hey, what else could I expect for sharing an office with the Stanley Cup Champions Mascot, Thunderbug??? He is an awesome guy though and makes the day fun at least. I had my first Hooters experience with him the other day for lunch. And as he is incharge of the cheerleader-style lightning girls for the team, he knew all of the girls that worked there!

Also, this is my future husband, not to mention one of the best damn players in the NHL right now and a Stanley Cup Champion. Straight out of Quebec, French speaking and all--Vinny Lecavalier, #4. Next week Lighting Hockey practice comes to the Forum so I have to be recovered in order to be in the building to meet the future father of my children. See, he likes kids! Wish me luck ;)