Have no worries. I should try to stop myself from approaching the computer until I have been awake for at least an hour. Over in England, there are many women who go into becoming 'exotic dance assistants', as one is forced to call them nowadays. Many people enter into this degrading trade because the money is better than elsewhere. Some go into it because they are too ?'intellectually challenged' to do anything else. In either case, it's a manifestation of a sense of 'objectification' of women, be it in the concious of going into trades which capitalize on one's natural assets, or tarting oneself up for a 'better chance.' I dislike it all.
Somehow, I guessed that Grundy would be like the way in which you described it, although I've never been to Virginia State.. it seems like the places in which we were booked to play, before we voted out the worrying JH described above. It's so desolate and claustrophobic, sad and... weird.
It sounds terrible, although I'm sure your experiences would make a good book. Was that the worst place to which you went, or was there somewhere even worse? Did you make it in time? Did anyone actually turn up? We had an awful agent for the first few months, until we sacked him and replaced him with... me
! We used to call him 'The Clanger', because he warbled on and on incomprehensibly like a Clanger (an old, old cartoon.) He also had the imprudence of taking advantage of some stoners, whom we liked. He always demanded his own room, whereas the three of us had to sleep in one room, two on the floor. In Cardiff, on the night that we decided to dump him, we caught him ogling someone in the DREADFUL hotel lounge disco. We took polaroids, showed them to his love interest in Warwick, and took advantage of their anguish for a few weeks.
Heh-heh, that sounds like my kind of revenge...
