I've done some crazy stuff in my life. I'm no daredevil, but I've certainly done some things in my life that I'm not so proud of. I've had friends whom I had no business being friends with, I've had more than a few poor business investments, I obsessively TiVo every episode of Jon and Kate Plus 8, and I never finished high school.
But this one has got to take the cake.
Hey, could you turn me up a little? Check, one, two, three. Little more. Check, one, two. Perfect.
I think it's safe to say that agreeing to be the drummer for this Poison tribute band is easily one of the worst life decisions I've ever made.
I mean, is this really what my life has come to? Playing hair metal covers to a bunch of drunken 43-year-olds in a dive bar in Davenport, Iowa on a Saturday night?
No guys, I think we should leave "Talk Dirty to Me" until towards the end of the set. Crowds dig it and that way we're guaranteed to go out on fire.
"RAPE ME! RAPE ME, AGAIN. I'M NOT THE ONLY– wait, what do you mean, ‘wrong band'?"Oh my God, how did my life end up here? Am I really sitting in a tiny bar, wearing a ratty wig and a stupid looking hat? Tribute band, my ass. I bet Rikki Rockett never had to wear a dumb-looking hat like this. And he was in the REAL Poison.
Tim's fur coat is so distracting. Does he really think that Bret Michaels wore the same stupid jacket every single night? It wouldn't kill him to change it up once in a while.
I mean, I'm not saying that we have to leave it for the encore, but maybe get a little deeper into the other stuff first. Sound good, Bre– Tim?
God, I keep almost calling Tim, "Bret." I guess it means he's doing a convincing portrayal but, still, it makes me look like a dick.
"Talk Dirty" already? No guys, not yet. Look at this crowd. You can tell they want something a little softer. Let's give it to ‘em. Maybe throw "Fallin' Angel" at them?
I wonder how long it took Tim to learn all of the words to every single Poison song. How can he look himself in the mirror and see a man? It's almost 2009 and he knows the word to every Poison song. I'd kill myself. I would, I really would.
Okay, "Talk Dirty to Me" on three. And one and two…
The guys don't even know I've never been in a band before. How pathetic is that? Just because you can spin a drumstick around in one hand doesn't mean you have extensive drumming experience. God, they are so naïve.
And what excuse does this crowd have? The only thing worse I can think of than playing in a Poison tribute band is paying a $10 cover to see a Poison tribute band. These people are sick.
Timmy, can you tell the bar to send another Coors Light back here?
Why did I even answer that listing in the classifieds? I should have bolted as soon as I realized they were serious about a tribute band, much less a Poison tribute band. I didn't even want to be a drummer. I thought this would pass some time until something else opened up.
Okay, can we at least NOT do "Every Rose" for the final song? I just really feel it's too predictable. What if we switched it up, just for tonight? That blonde lady in the corner already said she'd flash us if we did "Look What the Cat Dragged In." I mean, might as well, right?
I should have gone to college. I could have gone into business administration like my dad wanted me to. I promised I'd never admit this, but he was right. My dad was right. Wow, it almost feels good to say it. But I'll only be 29 this year. That's plenty of time to change things around, right?
Tim, how about that Coors? They can't hear me from way back here and you got the microphone, man.
This isn't how life should be spent. It isn't. Tim must be really grasping in life if this is enjoyable for him. How can wearing a cowboy hat and jumping around on stage, pointing at the females in the crowd be pleasant for anyone?
Jesus, my favorite part of the night: the encore. Finally.
Okay guys, let's go out with a bang. "Every Rose" on four. One, two, three, and four…