C H A P T E R  T E N

OK, it was 1992 and the WASTED record was scheduled to come out, first in Europe, then in the U.S.A. as I said before, the first single was to be " HAPPY HOUR". we didn't want that, but the label insisted. we were beginning to feel the power from above tightening their leash on us. we shot the video for HAPPY HOUR  at Al's Bar in L.A. and I could tell that it was not gonna fly. it was too weird, there was no groove...but what are you gonna do.. then the label bounced back by getting us the OZZY  tour in Europe . again, new places to go, Italy , Spain , Paris again.

Ozzy by this time was sober, which sort of disappointed me. I was a drunk, and I wanted to party with THE KING. we weren't  allowed to drink on the premises or  even in our own dressing room; no alcohol on the entire premises, Ozzy must be kept clean.

Skid had not given up the idea of making his movie. he met secretly with our manager, him and his Boy M. xxxx, the Drunk, in Red Beret and Sunglasses, and introduced xxxx as a "budding filmmaker". xxxx would do the European tour with us as Skid's Bass tech and he would film as we traveled. we had no idea what was going on, none of us, we had no idea what was to come. we just thought xxxxx would be on the crew, humping gear. we get to Europe , two days into the tour and xxxx is relieved of all crew duties save being Skid's "cinematographer" . our tour manager comes to us in a quandary and asks if it's true that we've all OK'd  this move. the rest of the band freaked out, we had been bamboozled, we'd just paid for this fucking drunken bootlick to tour Europe on OUR  ticket, we were paying him $500.00 dollars a week to film the Louvre. we didn't even like him...

then things got surreal. every night we drove on the tour Skid and this guy xxxx would stay up all night drinking. I'd go downstairs in the middle of the night to take a piss and ask  them what they were doing. " WORKING " was the drunken response. they were writing the "screenplay " . Joey and I confronted him and asked him " what screenplay?" "what script?" it was always booze, always booze.... then Skid gets the idea that this movie could be about a "serial killer " musician, and guess who he had  in mind for the star. I would be the "killer " and  xxxx would play a "private Detective" , Nick Danger. Skid would film him peering around corners in a trenchcoat; it was laughable. our whole production was laughing at us. then my turn came. Skid asked me if I would do a scene where I "kill" somebody and after a show I had to film this scene, over and over, Skid, wasted, telling me that I'm not being "realistic" enough as I bruise and scratch this poor girl up. thankfully, this was my one and only scene as a "serial Killer" and I left the room, freaked out, I didn't sign on for this, what's this got to do with music or Love/Hate or ANYTHING.

I remember meeting Ozzy coming up the stairs at our first gig. he looked so normal, so clean-cut, which he was. he would ride his exer-cycle every day in his dressing room and do sit-ups. I was MAD,  I wanted the OLD OZZY, the Madman. not that he could have taught me anything, I was getting fucked up every night just fine, no problems there.

we became friends with Zakk Wylde, Ozzy's guitar player. he was the coolest of the bunch, we really got along. even HE couldn't drink in the arena so we'd sneak off to his bus before the show and chug-a-lug. he was a big dude, completely buff, all he did was lift weights. I had an interest in Martial arts at the time, still do I guess, and Zakk gets it into his head that we should do some " sparring", you know, boxing and such. yeah, sure thing , I'm thinking---that's a really GOOD  idea.

one night in Milan , Italy we were all drinking and I don't know I must have said something or did something to provoke him 'cause the next thing I knew  he stood up and clocked me, rite in the stomach. as I'm light and fairly aero-dynamic I flew about 10 feet , landing on this table full of food and drinks. I got my bell rung, GOOD-- the Maitre 'd and all the waiters and all the busboys rushed over to break it up and Zakk's telling them " Don't worry about it, we're just friends " . I get up , brushed off what was left of my dignity and said-" THAT'S RIGHT, WE'RE JUST FRIENDS"  and I hauled off and PUNCHED AS HARD AS I COULD, I mean as HARD AS I COULD and he just LOOKED AT ME---HE DIDN'T EVEN FLINCH. and that LOOK  he gave me....once again I was airborne , heading due west into another bunch of patrons. Zakk started breaking bottles on the edge of the table, Wild-West style and I'm STARTING TO GET REALLY SCARED---thank God it got sorted out, not half an hour later him and I were dancing cheek to cheek on the dance floor and all of Italy thinks we're nuts. it even made the papers....booze, booze. 

we went to England to finish up the rest of the tour by ourselves. I lost my voice partying in London and we had to cancel a couple of shows and it fucked with my head. all these hate-letters from fans....we did a video for the song "Wasted in America " but I doubt anyone really saw it. then Skid dis-located his shoulder stage-diving and it was time to go home.

when I got home I found out that Motley Crue wanted to audition me for the singer spot and my manager never even told me at all. probably a good thing anyway...