Please to stop wiping your ass with my hair, K?

I’m having one of those days in which I am a twee bit sensitive to criticism. I’ve been busting my hump and taking a whole lot of shit, and I swear, even so much as a “did you think about …” comment is enough to make me want to *stabstabstab* the nearest possible victim.

I don’t think I’ve ever made it a secret that I work with “rock stars.” They’re at various stages in their career path. I’m sort of like the band manager — I get rid of the brown M&Ms if that’s what they want, and I give the groupies the backstage passes.

But a relative newcomer who would fall into the, ah, drummer position in my rock band, thought they deserved lead singer status and, let’s say, trashed not only the hotel room last night, but damn near burned down the entire wing.

And blamed it on me.

And admitted to it (at gunpoint) with a simple “Hehehe.”


In the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. But then I had to pay off the hotel staff to keep quiet AND hose the vodka and puke off of all of us today. And I’m a little bit crabby about it all because, even though it’s only the drummer, you can’t vote half your rhythm section off the island when the show’s gotta go on.

In a small “pity party” moment, I seriously stopped to wonder why I’ve got to deal with all these crazy folks — parking lot cunt, fuckhead Alexandria police officer, “Animal” from “The Muppets,” and a whole lot of smaller but equally annoying exchanges and actions — and have to always rise above them. It’s getting kind of old.

At some point, when everyone’s wiping their asses with your hair, you’ve got to explode. And while I stop to wonder why everyone’s dumping/blaming their shit on me, I notice that I am struggling (and oftentimes FAILING) to maintain an “inside voice.”

I mean, I finished an argument first thing in the a.m., only to roll into work early for something that instead came TWO HOURS LATE. The two-hour delay made me miss my 10 a.m. engagement. Then I had two make-up meetings to cover the ground I wasn’t there to cover in the original planning session. And anyone who approached me in the interim damn near got their heads bitten off. NOM.

I’m not snapping and have no plans to, but seriously, when all of these tests abate, I’m accepting no less than an A-plus for effort.

One Lonely Response to Please to stop wiping your ass with my hair, K?

  1. Sabre :

    Having once been married to a drummer, I do have to agree that that assessment of said wannabe rock star is spot on. Can haz death and mayhem?