California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – The Night We Opened For Y & T

Clothes start coming off, and it is a glorious tangle of sex and desire.

Warning! This post is not safe for work! NSFW!

This hot waitress Melanie comes up to me at the kitchen at Merlin McFlys in Santa Monica. I’m working as a cook, while trying to make it as a metal god in L.A. I’m a total loser and struggling, but loving life because I’m surrounded by moist women and nothing else but California sunshine.

Merlin McFly’s was a cool place to work. The people who owned them had a chain of them and each one had a different theme. The great part about this one is it was all about magic. (See: California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Merlin McFly’s)

It was a crazy time but when I look back on it an incredibly eye-opening and exhilarating.

This cute waifish blonde waitress Melanie approached me one night. I was balls deep in chicken fingers and zucchini sticks .

“Hey, I like your band and you like my band Glider, right?”

“Oh course. You guys are so good.” ( A bold faced lie) I fucking hated her Blondie rip off piece of shit band. I love her, because she is a buttery sweet blonde, and I hate her boyfriend because I made $500 putting a floor into a furniture store in Hollywood with this prick and he’s a beat up call.

But it was extra money so I did it but he’s an asshole and I’m sure he’s a bully to this sweetie.

“We have a chance to open for Y&T at the Troubadour on Friday but we need a little harder band to go on after us to open for them.

“Mel… is that my band? Because if that’s true I’m rock hard right mow.”

“Yea. That’s the gig despite your hard on.”

“Stop it. we’re in.”

I go home that night and tell the band. They’re ecstatic. It seems like the rest of the week takes forever but Friday finally arrives and we’re ready to do load in.

The band gets there and I’m a little nervous.

Frank: “How are you feeling there, Chaz?”

Me: “I’m a little scared.”

Frank: “I’d rather be scared, than bored…. Let’s go.”

And off we went. We played the Troubadour. Glyder came out and they did their sweet Blondie set. Who cares. We came out and killed it in a club that John Lennon was thrown out of for heckling the Smothers Brothers.

We crushed our set and Y&T comes out and is so much louder and more powerful than our little band. I feel that. I feel that what we did was solid and the audience liked it but we’re no one. They’re here to see Y&T. I don’t even give a shit who these fuckers are other that my friend Melanie got us here and we’re nobody.

The people are here to see Y&T play Lipstick and Leather.

I’m hanging at the bar getting free 151 and cokes with Frank and the boys and this girl walks up to me.

She’s wearing a beautiful white dress. She looks like Christie Brinkley with a voice like Marilyn Monroe. WTF?

This is a mixed crowd but mostly hair metal. It’s 1983 and we are in full swing. This little girl seems out of place. She comes up to me and immediately starts hitting on me. That was a luxury back then. It was easy when you were a musician in L.A. and pretty.

“Hey. I’m Chaz what’s your deal?”

“I’m Patty. I just wanted to meet you. I work at a restaurant and I came with some co-workers. One of the busboys likes me and I’m not into him. I’m into you.”

I’m taken by this pure beauty. Oh, the ease of the power of rock back then…

“You’re a lovely girl, Patty.”

“Come home with me, Chaz.”

It was that easy. I had gone from a pimple faced loser in middle school with braces and glasses to a guy that just had to show up and the ladies flocked. I still didn’t know who the hell I was or what I was doing but loved the attention.

I talked to my buddy Tim who came with us to the show without his wife Donna. (See: California Dreamin’ – Tim’s Wife Donna) He said we should pull a train on her but I told her it wasn’t like that this time and I wanted to be with this sweet baby alone.

We got back to her apartment in West Hollywood and we fall to the floor through the transom. Her record collection comes out and it’s scattered across the floor. We’re on the floor amidst her records rolling around and making out.

Clothes start coming off, and it’s a glorious tangle of sex and desire.

We end up in her bedroom, and she starts asking me about a girlfriend and/or a wife. I tell her I have neither. In this moment I’m telling the truth.

She lets it go. We’re getting into it and we’re both pretty drunk. I don’t know why I used to drink 151 and cokes back then. But like any stupid kid I guess you just want what’s strong and fast.

I almost don’t know how to describe what happens next with out being too graphic. It was over 35 years ago so just know that it was a one time thing. Even as jaded as I had become being in a band and living in L.A., this blew my mind.

She asks me to get her started with my digits. Okay, seems a little juvenile but I’ll do whatever she wants at this point. One, two, then three… then four. That seems a bit much and I’m surprised about this. I ask her if she’s okay and she says she loves it. She tell me to keep going.

Okay at this point I remember removing my fingers from her and then and taking off my  LED watch and dropping it into my shoe so I wouldn’t lose it or forget it.

Patty tells me to go in with my whole hand. I’m super turned on at this point because I’ve never experienced anything like this and didn’t know a woman could accommodate this sort of thing.

But she did. I was wrist deep in this girl. She was in her twenties. How was she able to do this? She liked it. I’m a little freaked out but in my drunken mind I can handle it.

This is called fisting. I never thought I’d ever be engaged in this sort of situation. As crazy as our adventures have been out here this seems over the top. I actually thought child birth for this woman may not even hurt. But it was still bizarre.

If someone told me my night after opening for Y&T would end like this. I would have just looked at them in mute protest.

Then she asks me to open the top drawer of her dresser. I do as I’m told and that’s when I see the biggest dildo I’ve ever seen on Earth. I’m still a little wet behind the ears and it’s all a new world to me.

She asks me to give it to her with this monster dildo. At this point I’m having a little fuselage envy. How can my little band go on after Fist and Hammer of the Gods? If I have intercourse with her after this episode, it’ll be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway, right?

But Patty’s loving it and is happy she’s opened toyland to me. I never expected this.

After the crazy monster insertion play she wants me to go on stage. Surprisingly it went well. I always carried condoms with me in those days because I was deathly afraid of catching an STD. Like… terrified. Scared of drugs and venereal disease.

We get it on and it’s fire. She was so beautiful I would never have known she was such a sexual dynamo when I met this waitress.

I tell her I’m going home and she gets back on the, “You’ve got a girlfriend or a wife.” I tell her no but she doesn’t believe me.

I walk out onto Hollywood Boulevard. I don’t even know what time it is. I hail a taxi and he takes me back to Santa Monica. At the time I think it was expensive. Funny how it was only $11 and a tip.

I’m happy to be back to the apartment and in my own bed.

She calls me the next day and tells me she wants to have a threesome with me and her girlfriend.

I tell her I’ll think about it.

 

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California Dreaming – 1982 to 1984 – Alika – Hot Girl, Heroin, Beverly Hills, and Reggie the Cat Converge

This is one of my all time favorite stories!

I met an incredibly hot Armenian airhead named Alika. She came into the bar where my band was playing with some of her other hot girlfriends, and we chatted after our set. There were warning signs that she was a tad bit shallow, not going to lie. This girl’s credit card was platinum, and she drove a convertible Maserati and lived in her parent’s Beverly Hills mansion.

She was completely vapid but oh, so hot. We dated for a few months and everything’s fine. I just did my best to ignore/overlook when she did things I didn’t like… specifically talking.

The holidays came and went. We had a few very fun sleepover parties while her parents were out of town. I’d never met them. Alika was like a tiger in the sack. I felt like a burnt matchstick after a few of our sessions together.

Alika gets the bright idea to invite me over and meet her parents who were hosting a New Years party. Normally I’d skip that but I was curious about trying to see what kind of parents produce a vapidly oblivious, self obsessed, airhead with the common sense of a squirrel crossing a highway. Besides I’d drunk enough of their booze and eaten enough of their caviar and I’d banged their daughter for 3 months or so at this point, so I thought why not? I was a nineteen year old guitarist from Philly. So have at it!

From the moment I met them I got a very distinctly “chilly” reception. I usually gel pretty well with parents of girls I’ve dated. The mother who looked like a grown up version of her daughter and the father looked like he couldn’t remember his own kids names. Polite but certainly chilly.

They kept making pointed comments. Pointing out to me where the bathrooms were without being prompted. Pointing out that the floors were hardwood and that they had “many, many bathrooms.” I was confused by the fact that 1 out of 4 conversations all somehow led to me being directed to the nearest bathroom.

At the end of the night I wished them both goodnight and her mother said she was glad to see “I was still on the wagon.” I smiled through it. As soon as the door closed I had a big “WTF was that all about?!” conversation with Alika.

Long story short Alika has a 100 year old cat named Reggie. And her parents have a 100+ year old Persian rug that Reggie soiled on one of the nights I slept over. Apparently vapid girl was afraid of Reggie getting put to sleep by angry vengeful parents for ruining the rug. So Alika helpfully made up a story that I she had been helping me detox from heroin and that in a fit of withdrawal I’d soiled their prized antique Persian rug!

Mind you this was a few months back and her parents have been under the impression that I was fresh out of rehab after a horrific addiction to pills and heroin. She also told them that she had helped me through the worst of it and that I’m deep in a drug withdrawal stupor and had lost all bladder control and that I had no memory of destroying the rug.

So…rich parents…spawned a spoiled habitually lying rich girl…owned a fat tabby cat with serious digestive tract problems…the guy who’s in a band and has only smoked weed and drank beer is suddenly a horrific heroin addict who in a drug induced haze soiled an $80,000 prized family heirloom antique rug.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – She Didn’t Just Say That, Right?

We were playing a gig at Gazzari’s on the strip, I got friendly with one of the cutest girls who worked there. I was always on good terms with her, but she was one of the top ones that every guy knew of and most of us just dreamt of what it would be like to date her.

I got the courage to ask her to grab coffee one night. I went to pick her up from her house and she invited me in while she grabbed something. It was near Christmas time so I was looking around at the house that was in full holiday mode. She asked if I liked the decorations and I casually said, “Yeah! Only thing that’s missing is a mistletoe!” …Which only now as I type this out realize was way more suave than I ever realized (self reminiscing five!)

Her immediate response to this was, “Oh, do you want a kiss?!” and then kissed me right on the lips. Then asked, “ready to go?” like it’s no big deal.

Hell yeah!

We went to a local coffee shop and the conversation was already starting to get weird, but what the fuck do I care?

We grab our coffee and the conversation starts to get weirder – she goes, “What if none of this is real? What if nothing we did ever mattered?”

OK, I’m in a pretty well read guy, I can hang with this I think to myself.

Her: “You know this night is going to end eventually right? I could die right now and it wouldn’t matter. Or kill those people over there”

o_O

I make small talk like well, the people we matter to most will remember us so it matters blah blah blah I can’t even remember what came out of my mouth, because I was afraid something might set her off. We walk back to the van.

I run into a friend. He tells me he’s in Hollywood with another one of our friends and I should come out.

We start driving and she tells me stories about random guys she’s been dating and one of them who she hated, so she slept with him purposely while she was on her period and bled all over his sheets, but also hasn’t been tested for STDs in a while, but isn’t worried about it. The she starts screaming out the window at random cars while we’re on the freeway going 75mph (everyone speeds in LA, don’t judge!)

I’m gripping the steering wheel trying to remain focused and figure out wtf is going on.

She notices my biceps (Not that big) and goes, “whoa! Look at those guns! Want to see my guns?” Proceeds to lift her dress up to flash me.

She pulls her dress down, lifts it up from her knees, so she’s half naked in my car, and I’m staring in shock, while also trying not to crash.

If you’ve lost count, I’ve now just made out and seen this fantasy girl nearly naked.

We get to Hollywood and park, and she randomly yells at this truck that drives by, telling them to fuck off. I ask her wtf she did that for and she says “They were talking shit!”

…No…no one said anything. Keep walking and she’s looking behind her at nothing.

Since we weren’t 21 yet, we met up with my friends and went to this 18+ place. Except she doesn’t have anything with her. Bouncer says he won’t let her in without ID.

She flips and yells “DO THESE TITS NOT LOOK 18!?” and proceed to flash him and half the Hollywood strip.

I’ll never forget the look on my friend’s faces nor will I forget what the bouncer said: “Go home, apologize to your mother and your father for being so embarrassing, and don’t ever come back.”

This story keeps going, but I know phicklephilly fans aren’t ones for long ones, so I’ll conclude by saying I spoke to her sister a few months later and she informed me her sister was diagnosed with schizophrenia and been put on various medication, which she hasn’t been taking.

Another weird night.

 

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California Dreamin’ – Donna – 1982 to 1984 – This Worked Out For Everyone

I was hanging with my then girlfriend Kelly for the weekend up at my friend Tim’s place up in Topanga Canyon. He’s the one with the hot wife, Donna. (See: California Dreamin’ Tim’s Wife Donna)

 

We got up on Saturday morning and started partying early. The girls fixed up some food, blankets etc. while we iced down the beer and chilled by the pool.

It was great and secluded spot. The closest property was at least 300 yards away. About noon we got set up and in our suits and were all frolicking in the pool started partying heavy. The girls had on almost nothing for suits and looked sweet. (Kelly was a cute 20 year old blonde and we already know how Tim’s wife Donna is.) We kept saying they were almost naked and they may as well take them off and tan.

We kept on drinking and smoking and by 3:30 THE TOPS CAME OFF. We dared them if we all get naked for the rest of the day, we would do any dare they wanted the next day.

They agreed and we all stripped down. We were really getting ripped now and the girls were loving the freedom out here. They decided to walk towards the trees to take a leak. We were really proud of ourselves for getting them to loosen up.

When they got back they told us they wanted to make us do our dare tonight. We thought what the heck, let’s do it. They went over to the van and came back with some scarves. (from my mike stand) They told us we needed to lay on our backs on the blankets and allow them to tie our hands and blindfold us.

I tried to find out why, but was told its part of the dare and do it. Tim and I were now hand tied on our backs. I then felt a hand slowly running up and down my body and then a tongue. I asked what was up and was told it could be either one of them doing so but if we looked the 2 of them would both play with the other guy.

I can’t say in detail what went on for the next couple of hours.  It was so exciting not knowing who was doing what to me. After we were all exhausted we lay back still naked and enjoyed a few more beers and then headed back. I begged my girlfriend for 2 weeks to tell me if they swapped with us and she finally admitted they did.

I never told Tim or Donna that I knew.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Love Notes

My band was playing a gig at a local bar in Santa Monica. When you do some regular shows at a place you get to know the staff. This one waitress, I don’t know how old she was but she didn’t even look 18. She would always come and chat with me between sets. I think her name was Faye.

This went on whenever we got to play there. It went on for a few months. But one night she hands me a note after her shift and tells me not to read it until she was gone.

Well, I thought a note was a bit weird since that was grade school stuff but whatever. I open the note and it says things like:

“I love you. I want to be with you. You’re beautiful. We need to have children together even though I’m only 16, and it just prattled on and on. An overly attached girlfriend has nothing on this chick.

I used to get lots of phone numbers scrawled on napkins, notes and letters occasionally, but it was nothing like this. The next night, she asks sheepishly if I’ve read her note and I said yes but I wasn’t really looking for a relationship at the time. Her face lost all expression for a second and then she smiled and said something to the effect of ‘No worries, I thought I’d try’ and we continued playing there without incident.

That night, when I left the venue there were about 10 notes taped to my VW mini bus. Long notes too! I have no clue how she wrote this much in a day. The notes said things like ‘I hate you, you’re a fucking asshole, I hope you die’ and other notes said things like ‘I’m sorry for writing that note that called you an asshole. I really like you and want to be with you ❤ ❤ <3’

She would then try luring me with innuendos. When she was on her break she would do things like bring these long cucumbers out from the kitchen, come up and say things like ‘Do you think this pickle is for lunch or personal pleasure?’

She would also still put notes all over my van.

Eventually, after a few months she completely lost interest in me and started chasing a guitarist in another band that would play there on occasion.

Oh, my broken heart!

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – I Can Deal With This

I was in a bar down in Venice Beach, having a beer and this girl starts talking to me. She seems OK, but the bar is dark. Band on stage is loud. Hard to tell.

She asks me if I want to go out to her truck and smoke a joint.

“Yes, please.”

When we wander out of the bar, the bright lights outside illuminate her face in a disturbing way. I ignore what I am seeing. Not that hot.

“So where is your car?”

“I thought we were going to your truck.”

“No, we are going to your car.”

OK. I can deal with this.

We get to my VW minibus, and she says “Where is the joint?”

“I thought you had a joint.”

“No. Take me home.”

OK. I can deal with this.

So, I start driving her home. As I am driving, she starts rambling.

“You can fuck me. You can screw me. You can do anything you want to me.”

OK. Maybe I can deal with this.

As we approach her apartment she says: “I sure hope my boyfriend isn’t home.”

Oh, fuck. Can I deal with this?

She points to a convenience store and says “Pull in there, and go buy me a 12 pack of beer.”

“I’m not buying you a 12 pack.”

So she gets out of the car to buy beer. I definitely cannot deal with this.  I shift my van  into reverse, and race off into the night.

I didn’t go back to that bar for a year.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – The Blue Lagoon

It was New Year’s eve and I’d bought new clothes, so I thought I was cutting quite a dashing figure, but the reality was I’d drunk four 151 rum and cokes and was shouting the word “dickhead” at my friend Frank for reasons I can’t remember. That was the taxi. Then I was in a kitchen (can’t remember whose) holding a big bottle of prosecco (not mine) and I was sharing it with a girl named Jennifer. She was telling me she was a freshman at Santa Monica College, and I was doing that glazed eyes listening but not really listening thing, so I asked Jennifer if she wanted to go upstairs.

She did.

We went up, and I was holding orange juice now as well and Jennifer was saying something about the actor from The Blue Lagoon, Christopher Atkins. In someone’s parents’ room and Jennifer was now on top of me and pressing her (large) breasts into my face. Hard. Really hard. So hard I had a nosebleed. All over her breasts, all over the (inevitably) cream carpet. That was when the owners of the house came back. I recall them screaming the words “what”, “the”, “fuck”, “are”, “you”, “doing”, “in” “here” at me and Jennifer quite a few times. As I left I kicked the orange juice (probably an accident) all over the carpet, which now resembled some kind of crime scene.

Smash cut to March, I haven’t seen or spoken to Jennifer since NYE. I’m wandering around a club after a show looking for a bottle of Jack Daniels and then Jennifer is in front of me and my inner monologue is like, “How is this happening?” But you know what? Jennifer was pretty cool about the nosebleed.

Jennifer and I had sort of OK sex back at her place. We lay there in that blue grey not quite morning light and we talked. Jennifer said she thought I looked like Christopher Atkins (which is generous). And the blue grey light changed and soon the rest of the room was visible, the clothes on the floor, the photos of Jennifer and her friends on the walls, the pictures of Christopher Atkins on the wall, the many pictures of Christopher Atkins… the SHRINE devoted to Christopher on the wall. I felt like a voodoo doll. I was some kind of fuck your favorite actor fantasy boy. I was creeped out then and I’m creeped out now. My skin didn’t crawl, it ran. I left and on the way back to my apartment it rained. I didn’t have a coat.

 

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