I once had break up sex with the ex-girlfriend of the bassist in Jane’s Addiction. I was not prepared for what transpired.

I smoked a joint with Carlos Santana after a show. Bob Marley opened. We didn’t know who Bob was then. After the show my friend and I were backstage by the parking lot. Carlos came out to get into his Limo. We asked him to join us and he did. Carlos was cool.

I know a guy who did a salvage dive in a marina to recover a Rolex for Les Claypool.

I just read a great DLR quote.
“(we’re) not the way we are because we’re in a rock n roll band; we had to get into a band because we are this way..”-David Lee Roth

my old rock band played a college show, and our drummer was handing out “happy cookies” which of course were filled with green goodness . . . he didn’t exactly tell people what they were getting, the show rocked but chaos ensued. . . we were in the “crime beat” of the campus newspaper the following week.

My mom took mescaline with Stephen Stills in a Rocky Mountain cabin in the 70’s…

jethro tull . . . live in budapest . . . ‘92. need I say more?

I was about 13-14 years old when I was in the search for something special or something bigger than what my friends were listening to. You might say I was in the search of finding myself and a music style that would fit with the new me. And I bumped into Elvis!

Ok i got one. After our last set at a regular gig in Ventura, CA this really hot brunette follows me from the stage to our dressing room ready to party. My guitarist is already stark naked and kinda coked out doing 69 with this chick on the couch. It was one of those nights. I’m making out with the hot brunette and get under her shirt. I get some mouth on nipple action real quick and this is where the unexpected happened. She didn’t mention in the heat of the moment that she had a baby 6 weeks earlier. I got a mouth full of human milk… and frankly… it was pretty good. I feel weird about it now… but if i relived the moment… it’d all go down just the same.

I just saw Van-Halen (4)… 8th Row… On the left side… the good one… Dave and Eddie’s favorite… Wolfie was on the other side. They rocked!

I bought my guitar for $60 at a garage sale from a guy who claims it was given to him by Sammy Hagar at a party. The headstock was smashed and badly repaired and some suspicious liquid (Cabo Wabo Reposado?) has eaten the paint.

My friend toured as a roadie for Fleetwood Mac in the late 70’s. At the time they were HUGE. Stevie was concerned about hurting her voice… so, “Rumor” is, she used to have her assistants blow coke up her ass with a straw. For real.

I had sex in the pool of Bruce Springsteen’s drummer!… with the pool service girl… not the apparatus.

I know of a guy who had to end his relationship because his lady slept with Sebastian Bach… Does that count?

OK… sometimes the real stories are better than any satellite efforts. Here’s a little excerpt from the eternally, amazing Vince Neil of Motley Cue from an interview with Hustler Magazine… It’s just to good to not reprint…

HUSTLER: Do you have any other good drug stories?

NEIL: We had a doctor in Denver that—

HUSTLER: The Elvis doctor?

NEIL: Yeah. He gave us every fucking pill you ever wanted. I took like six Halcyon one night and, I think, a Placidyl. I was fucking wasted. I remember getting into a Suburban limo, and they had this TV screen that had those loops of the fireplace. And I just remember sitting by the TV, trying to get warm. Here’s another story; Mortoni’s is a really nice restaurant in the Hard Rock Casino in Vegas, and I was really out of it, and we’re sitting there with a bunch of people. Everybody’s all dressed up, and I had to go to the bathroom. I got up, I took about two steps to this tree, and I just started pissing in the middle of the restaurant. Everybody in the whole place was watching me. They were a little upset with me.

In the early 90s I had a really long goatee. My roadie hated it because whenever we’d eat fast food after the show my goatee would collect food. He had a great VHS porn tape of Amber Lynn I wanted to ‘borrow’ so he said he’d let me borrow it if I shaved off the goatee to which I said “no deal”.
One night in a very short-term relationship I was about to give a chick oral and was making my way down her naked body. The goatee was sort of ahead of me like one of those curb scrapers on an old Buick. Unfortunately my curb scraping goatee didn’t prepare me for the smell that was unleashing in her private regions. By the time my oral senses reached her funkiness it was too late for the goatee - it had dipped into her cheesy funky stew down below.
Cut to an outdoor gig we did at UC Irvine on a really hot spring day the very next afternoon. The thorough shower I took that morning didn’t keep the funk from reappearing when sweat during our outdoor show reached my goatee. That very night I met up with my roadie with my entire goatee in a zip lock bag and we did the exchange. I never returned the Amber Lynn porn which still sits in a box in my garage.

When I was 19, I accidentally wound up in a rock video for the hair band, Dorian Grey…
It turned out to be a way of life.

I ended up living in Hollywood and fell into a string of videos. “Fire Woman” by The Cult… The director was weak… too many takes… Ian was pissed.

I met a rock and roll lawyer named Fig… in a silver space suit with a cat on his shoulder… He owned a club on Sunset and pulled me into another video shoot… this time for Smashing Pumpkins. I guess I had the look… long blond hair, polka dotted-spiked boots, danced on the railing… My girlfriend wore a short black wig… She lost it in the mosh pit… we spent the end of the gig fishing that wig out of the pit.

One time I was walking down Sunset in this faux leopard fur jacket… And Ron Helford from Judas Priest started to follow us… he just wanted to pet my jacket. It was a sweet jacket. =)

Years later I lived in this crazy apartment on Wilcox & Hollywood, The Peach Palace. The weirdest people showed up for parties there. Lime jello shots… Pro Athletes… Sam Kinison… Weird Al Yakovic. My dog bit Al in the nose. The city ended up putting cameras in that ally behind the Peach Palace.

I used to go to the Rainbow Club… it’s famous, look it up. Everyone went to the Rainbow. One night I met David Lee Roth and I accidentally exposed his receding hairline. He had the wicked comb over. I didn’t mean to. And he wasn’t happy about it. =(

Years later I found myself at a party in honor of Randy Rhodes… in a hot tub with Kevin Dubro, lead singer of Quiet Riot… and we had this incredibly, intense conversation about his hair plugs. RIP Kevin.

There’s more… but it’ll have to wait for another Van-Holiday…

Today I celebrated by again referring to everyone as “My Groupies”. I woke up… took 2 of My Groupies for a walk… Then fed the kids…. Made sweet love to my lady… Went outside… danced on a table…. mooned the neighbors… then poured some out for my homies… right then, someone on a boat blew their fog horn. Long live Van-Holiday!

Let’s celebrate Van-Holiday everyday!

When I was in college I was the president of a student organization. I was able to arrange a boondoggle with a friend to a conference in LA where other students from around the country were meeting. After we landed, we rented a massive dark-blue 4-door Buick pimp-mobile (PM) with just 7 miles on the odometer. We immediately proceeded to test it by spinning out in every parking lot and dirt field we could find. It was a sweet-ass ride. After the conference we offered a ride to one of the conference Hotties who was also taking a few days R&R in Manhattan Beach. Since we were all getting along (with increasing probability of a Hottie get-down) we organized a dinner party at her friend’s beach house, including her friend’s boyfriend and a friend of his. We got blurry-eyed wasted during dinner, then piled into the PM and another car to drink at a local bar (this was back in the days you could drink and drive without hell to pay).

By this time my friend had perfected standing neutral-drops to light up the PM’s tires. At a stop sign, while he was revving for his next neutral-drop-o-fire, I decided to help by jamming the accelerator to the floorboard as he dropped into gear. This was just too much for the PM. Instead of powering the car forward, the transmission now made noises like a group of Maraca and Güiro playing Cubans moved under the hood. Not to have our rock-and-roll evening ruined (or my getting laid), we looked at each other saying “Ruh-roh,” pushed the rental into the parking lot at a small park, and piled into the other car to party-on.

Later we went back to the beach house. My friend took a seat at the piano and I grabbed a guitar for an improv jam. After a while I noticed the Hottie was absent as was the friend of her friend’s boyfriend (he was kind of a scrawny annoyance who buzzed around all night for attention from the Hottie). I went upstairs to take a piss and found, lo and behold, she was in bed with the scrawny winged-insect sitting next to her. I was shocked and couldn’t reconcile this during my piss. Obviously we were hot for each other. There was even mashing and light groping at the bar. No way had I miscalculated I thought, but there she was. I went downstairs and told my friend I had to go right away (it was like 3AM and we were stupid at that point). Our hostess was more confused than my friend by our hasty departure. Outside I recounted the scenario. He blew up, telling me this was total bullshit and I couldn’t just leave without reconciliation. It was clear the insect moved on my girl, and that just wasn’t right. After he fired me up like an over zealous pop-warner football coach-dad, I agreed. When our hostess answered the door, my friend unleashed unprovoked verbal assaults while I quickly passed upstairs. By now the guy had his shirt off and was cuddling the Hottie. Through my severe impairment I realized the Hottie was passed-out, and the insect was getting ready to ride the dead horse. This snapped me. I grabbed the insect by his hair, lifted him off the bed, and released a snappy right to his nose. He tumbled to the floor crying “What’d you do that for?” while bleeding profusely on the white shag. I jumped on top of him, but he didn’t resist or give any fight (being a scrawny insect and all I suppose). Realizing the scene was beat, I jumped up and ran downstairs and to the beach with my friend. With no car or hope of a taxi, we jogged the beach to Hermosa where we were staying, filled with the sweet moral righteousness of victory.

After waking in the afternoon we went to survey damage to the PM. We discovered each window, including the windshield, shattered into small pieces (insecta revenga). Seeing the empty trunk, we realized we left our suitcases inside the beach house. The girls agreed to meet us with our bags only at the Redondo police station. Both were extremely pissed-off and wary, not understanding that punching the insect was the only response appropriate to dead-horse jockeying. Later while we watched the windowless, transmissionless PM get winched onto a flatbed, we became sickened with our certain expulsion from school, having used University funds to destroy a brand new Buick on this barely appropriate boondoggle. Expecting our demise to begin with the inquisition at the Budget return desk, we rehearsed endlessly while riding the bus to the airport, trying to run every possible outcome; how the car was vandalized, how the transmission was making noises before it dropped out, etc. For no explainable reason other than VAN HOLIDAY, the rental car clerk apologized for our inconvenience and gave us drink coupons to enjoy on our return flight home. Slack-jawed, we somehow skirted all responsibility for a reckless rock star partying binge.

VIVA EL VAN HOLIDAY!

Rock on, Chroma…. Rock on.

[...] of us to have our chance too. Visit the Van-Holiday website to share your Van-Holiday photos and stories! And remember the wise words of David Lee Roth, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, [...]