I've never had many encounters with celebrities
but two do spring to mind.

It was around 1983 or so, and I was working in one of the few clubs in Rochester NY. I was kitchen and support staff- basically, if it was too shit a task for anyone else to do, it was up to me.

One night we had an up and coming type act playing, some odd-looking little redhead with a huge voice who came in during the afternoon to do a sound test dressed in jeans and an old flannel shirt. The place was packed to the gills that night as she was bouncing and warbling and making odd sounds. We stayed quite busy, and I was rushing about all evening. I got home in the wee hours and crashed hard.

The next morning I had to help open, and was rather bleary as I got there and started the coffee. I had just started getting the kitchen ready when the boss popped out of his office. "Hey, that chick left a mess in the dressing room last night. Go clean it out, will ya?"

Well, they had tried to clean it up, but apparently she had had a bad gastrointestinal experience, because there were barf stains all around. I grumbled but scrubbed it out anyway.

Then during the lunch rush someone reported that there was something on the rug back by the ladies' room. I was sent to deal with it- and found a crusty pile of vomit that had gone undetected until that point. I used a dustpan as a shovel, trying not to add to it.

And that, my friends, was my only contact with Cyndi Lauper.

(My other experience was when Joan Jett and the Blackhearts performed. After the show she went through the kitchen to exit and passed by about two feet from me. Even in a restaurant kitchen the stench of her unwashed body was enough to make me step back fast. I wouldn't fuck her with Maggie Thatcher's dick.)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 2:27, 1 reply)

To coin a phrase ...
"I wouldn't fuck her with Maggie Thatcher's dick."

Genius!
(Biff..., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:32, closed)