Friday, October 19, 2007


     I’m the bass player for one of the world’s foremost rock bands and I don’t any pussy. Hell, I started this band and I don’t even get the slightest recognition. I mean, the name "Sippy Cup" was my idea. Yet even the roadies get more play than me on tour. What is that shit? I practically sign the checks. Still, the lead singer gets more throw-away poon than I’ve had in my entire lifetime.

     I used to think the whole shying-away-from-the-spotlight thing was pretty cool. But then "Genocide Baby" hit #1 and we went global. I wrote that fucking song, yet everybody flocks around this dick like he'd found the cure for AIDS. Don’t get me wrong, I like Clyde. He’s the perfect frontman and he’s even a nice guy, but c’mon! I wrote the song that propelled us from Wisconsin dive bars to the Goddamn Budokan and what do I ask in return? A one-night stand. Singular. I’ve got the songwriting royalties, the heated driveways, the weekend flights to Amsterdam. Shit, I own an island, for Christ's sake! All I really want is to get laid on tour. Just once! I mean, all I want is for some 19 year old to throw herself at me. And not out of pity, not as a consolation prize. I want that one girl to jump on the tour bus and go, "Frank, you are the fucking heart and soul of this band and I want your penis in my vagina right now!"

     Okay, I wouldn’t want her to say it like that, exactly. That sounds kinda’ disgusting. I just want a Frank groupie, that's all. Just once.  But, you know what? Nobody wants to fuck the bass player. Except maybe that tool from Winger.



Blogger Adam said...

Frustrated and talented. Unrecognized genius is so hard to bear.

October 21, 2007 at 6:27 AM  

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