Okay, Sam, fuck it. Since you're rarely in Chat, you've missed all my [zyclone][/TiC] mentions.
Off the top of my head...
-I shared a table at Spago on Sunset Bl on a Friday night with OJ Simpson, Steve Garvey and four of their hookers. Though both OJ and Garvey had clearly alloted themselves two skanks apiece, all four vampires were slobbering over OJ while completely ignoring The Garv Carve, who seemed supremely bitter. OJ's Ferrari was parked out back, sporting a personalized 'Juice 1' licence plate.
OJ offered Angelina (my first wife) a bite of his shrimp scampi.
-At another Italian place in Agoura Hills I sat one table down from Yoko and Sean Ono, who stared at their matching Chicken Caesar salads in stony silence. They didn't speak a word to each other or to anyone else the entire time they were there. Finally Yoko took Sean by the hand and led him out to a white Mercedes, and they took off.
-I accidentally jammed with Joe Walsh at a Guitar Center in Sherman Oaks. I sat down back-to-back with some guy on an opposing bench and began to play, whereupon the two of us just sort of fell into a little twelve-bar blues deal. When we were through, we both turned around.
"Sounds great, maaaaan," grinned...Joe Walsh?!
-Delaney Bramlett once offered me a gig, though he didn't know it. I was with some retard buddies who had to make a weed run to an apartment in Tujunga, and when the people let us inside there was a party going on. Sitting on a couch and flipping through some records was a totally wasted Delaney Bramlett. I had no idea who he was. My buddies knew, though, and they told me about him. They also said to him, "Dude, you two should play."
Bramlett grabbed an old beater Strat and plugged me into the stereo. Yep, the fucking stereo. "Play 'Layla,'" he said, so I did.
"Dude, weren't you just saying you needed to grab someone for your tour?" teased one of his stoner buddies.
"Yep. Hey kid, you wanna go on tour? We leave in two weeks," he wheezed to me.
"Uhhh...."
He was passed out a few minutes later. I'm sure that by the next morning he didn't recall a second of it.
-Following his Jaguar crash, I got to hang out with Yngwie at some house in Granada Hills. Again as part of a pot run, my buddies took me with them to some swanky house up in the hills, and there was Yngwie fucking Malmsteen jamming on an unplugged white Strat on a big ass green couch. The whole time we were there he just absentmindedly shredded while basically bagging on how overrated Randy Rhoads was.
-Got to hang out with Joe Satriani a couple of times, mainly because we have the same guitar tech. We also sat in a nearly empty theater with his drummer following the San Francisco premier of the
G3: Tokyo movie. Upon my prompting, Jeff Campitelli and Joe basically told Yngwie stories from the previous G3 tour, and Joe told me how they put together those tours. He said he and Vai really wanted to get Morse, DiMeola and Holdsworth, but they knew Holdsworth would probably never happen because the promoters wouldn't go for it. They eventually did end up getting Morse and DiMeola, however.
-At that same guitar tech's place, I met James Hetfield, Buckethead and Neal Schon. Neal liked my guitar, calling it "seriously beautiful."
-Met Steve Vai at the Filmore West. I was there with a buddy and his son, who's the world's biggest Vai nut. He'd won a backstage pass, and the dad and I accompanied him to the meet-and-great backstage, where the kid got his Ibanez JEM signed by Vai.
-Met Bruce Dickenson at a tiny guitar shop. I'm not exactly big, being only 5'9". I towered over that dude. Still, he picked out my very first guitar for me. I was undecided between the black one and a white one, and the store manager turned to Bruce and said, "You pick it."
"C'mon...the black one. It's gotta be the black one," he grinned, and that was that. I walked home that day with a new black POS Aria chosen for me by the singer of Iron Maiden.
-Riding my motorcycle at various times, I've pulled up alongside Chevy Chase in a badass convertible Morgan in Beverly Hills, George Lucas in a dented 740iL in NoCal, and MC Hammer in a DeLorean on I-80 East in West Sacramento.
-During a ride to Laguna Seca, Angelina and I had a nice breakfast with Neil Young at Alice's Restaurant. Bikes were all we talked about, and he complimented Angelina on her 'West Germany World Cup Champions' t-shirt.
-Sat one table over from Anthony Munoz and Roy Foster at Dr. Hoggly Woggly's Tyler Texas Barbecue restaurant in Sepulveda, Ca.
-Met a ton of old USC Trojans (Tom Seaver, Fred Lynn, Dave Kingman, etc.) at an alumni game at Dedeaux Field, where Rod Dedeaux brought a number of guys from my high school team into the dugout before the game.
-Collected past due monies from Dana Plato in her condo in Porter Ranch, probably six months before she died. She answered the door in her jammies. In that same gig I also collected from Rog and Shirley of
What's Happening, and from Adam West of
Batman fame.
-Earned a dirty look from Judd Hirsch of
Taxi fame by intoning
"Riiiieger!" in a bad Louie DiPalma impression while playing pool one table over from him at a billiards hall on Ventura Bl.
-Stood in line behind Steve Martin at the snackstand of a drive-on movie.
-
Twice had breakfast with Danny Bonaducci, separated by twenty-some years. The first time was with Angelina in the Valley, where Bonaducci was with his slutty Asian wife. The second time was a little over a year ago, up here in NoCal. He actually remembered the one from the '80s, which was damn impressive.
-Almost accidentally caused Sean Penn to get splattered by a Hummer. Walking from my car to Gladstone's in Malibu, here comes Sean fucking Penn in the opposite direction. He had his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. As we drew near to each other, he stepped onto PCH to let me by and nearly got clobbered by a honking Hummer zooming past him.
-I grew up with Chicago White Sox Cy Young award winner Jack McDowell. Played against him in Little League, and we ended up going to the same high school. I was a senior and he was only a sophomore, so were were rarely on the field together at Notre Dame.
-Played hoops with Jamie Dixon, the current basketball coach at Pitt. He also went to my high school.
-Worked out alongside Jeffrey Tambor on adjacent Stairmasters at a fitness place in Encino.
-When I was in the YMCA, I insulted former Los Angeles Rams running back Les Josephson at our annual banquet. Like a total asshole, eight-year-old me stood up at the back of the auditorium during the Q&A session following dinner to ask him, "What's it like to be the worst running back in the NFL?"
I hated the Rams. That argument didn't wash with my dad, though, who whipped my behind when we got home. He also made me write a letter of apology to Josephson, and he grounded me for a month.
I still say Josephson sucked.
-Went to the house of Michael Nesmith of The Monkees, where I watched him feed his pet snake a little white mouse. His son thought it totally cool. I was grossed out.
-At a week-long basketball camp I attended as a little kid I met Gail Goodrich, Happy Hairston and Mel Counts. Yes, Mel Counts. Beat that shit, if you can. At the end of camp Gail Goodrich awarded me with two little certificates: "Best Outlet Passer" and "Best Off-Handed Dribbler."
I probably should have told him I was left-handed.
