23 July 2011

Mr. Beer N. Hockey Meets Gene Simmons

The fucking racetrack scheduled another 3:20 start on Friday. They are making money selling beer to people on their way to the Lions' evening game at the stadium next door, hoping they will remember how good a time they had and return to drink beer and play the horses in the future. Lions fans can sure put back the beer and they are going to have to put back even more of it than usual to drown their football blues if the home team does not pick it up soon.

I had to tell my fucking foreman I had to go see my doctor again. My foreman is starting to get concerned about my health. "Everything ok with you Beer?" he asked me when I told him I would have to leave early. Like he gives a shit. I have got the rockin' pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu.

Fact is I would not have skipped work and gone to the track at all except Gene Simmons and his family were going to be there for a meet and greet. I got to the track early enough to get in the front of the line with a bunch of good looking young women who wanted to do things with Gene's boy. The language young women use these days! Do not think the good looking young women factored in the possibility of having to spend over an hour in line with a dirty old KISS fan like me before they met their young idol.

While we were waiting, local sportscaster's Squire Barnes' two year old filly won at first asking. Before the race began I saw some of Squire's fellow brodcasters dressed up in their finest so I knew they were fully expecting to get their photo taken in the winner's circle and bet accordingly: like there was no fucking way the horse was going to lose. It won easily, paid $4.20, not bad for a dead cert. Gene Simmons and his family joined the photo.

It was like I was in motherfucking Hollywood.

Soon enough the meet and greet got underway. I got to smash knuckles with the bass player from KISS and thank him for putting on such a great show the previous month. He seemed pleased. Somebody took our photo. That was about it.

It was fucking cool.

Later I was talking to one of the small time trainers who had also stood in line to meet Gene. She was gushing about the whole Simmons family when Shannon Tweed, Gene's old lady, was ushered by security to the washroom. Sensing her chance, she said, "I have to go to!" and hurried off in the same direction Ms. Tweed was being taken.

People act funny as fuck when they are around people they see on television.

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