DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #20 - waiting room

⚠️ mentions of sex, drugs, drug use, and low-key bad taste jokes. No offence policy ... 'twas the 90s ⚠️

I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait
my time is like water down a drain
everybody's moving, everybody's moving
please DO leave me to remain
in the waiting room.
فيكتوريا

It's Fugazi's world I'm living in, not Phellus in Chains and not Ozzy's. I'm living the Waiting Room experience, even if it feels more like the exclusive Backstage rest-Room experience ... and I'm not digging it particularly. But being locked in here is indeed much better than being groped by a Michael and being call all shots on by another Michael. When I don't fancy either one of the two, to even begin with.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, as I smear a thick layer of cherry red lipstick over my lips. I've spent the last... maybe twenty minutes in this restroom, and this is so far the third time I've refreshed my appearance. More like, the third time I've tried to refresh my appearance, 'cause all 'em attempts later, I still look like a Circus Cherry.
First it was dampening my hair so that it'd look less helmet-messy. Then it was curling my lashes, so that my eyes will look more seductive if I stumble across my beloved ... and he gives me the little, sarcastic happy to see me kinda look. Last but not least in importance, now it's coating my lips in butter-texture, bright red paint. Gotta make sure my pout look kissable enough, in case my mr. Honda Four and Kawasaki EL wants to lay his lips over mine as soon as we catch up. Which I sincerely hope, cause I need one of his kisses like I need out of here...

Sean. I don't know where he is, and frankly? I don't even know where my friends are, to begin with. I am in voluntary isolation, and for as far as everyone knows, I've got diarrhoea and a fetish for men called Mike right now. I don't have any bowel issues. Not even a Mike calling kink. Word on my momma. I'm just done with bullshit. I just want to enjoy tonight without having to worry about someone thinking that I belong to them, or someone I don't wanna fuck trying to get into my leopard print panties. I just want... Sean. I just want him, a joint and a bunch of good laughs. Is this too much to ask? Yes, because he's being all elusive. And yes, part two, because I'm doing the elusive too, tonight.

It's just me, Cock Soup and a bunch of scantily clad chicks in this restroom. All very dolled up and ready to wink at a music man. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I belong to their same breed, for once in my life. I'm doing the elusive, picky as hell, freaked out groupie. While these girls don't have a fucking care... as long as someone fucks them, they're gonna be happy. And I ain't saying that because I'm judgmental, but because I might've overheard their conversation while I was fixing my makeup, two minutes ago. One of them said she wants horny guy Mike. One of them said she wants the singer of the very depressed Sepultura. One of them said that she wants Zakk the blondie. But if their plans backfire, they're gonna take anyone else. I just want... my mr. Honda Four. I don't give a single shit if he's a dirty Seattle music guy. I want him for what he is behind face value. I couldn't care any less about the fact that he plays in a rock band. Doesn't add anything to his charm, to me. I must. Not. Be. A groupie. Right?

But I am. I've ridden 800 miles to fucking see a man. I'm in this restroom for the same reason as these girls. Sleeping with a musician later tonight. Reasonably enough, now, if we're all here for the same reason ... can I stand a chance against these heavenly beauties? No. I ain't the prettiest one of them all. Not even the runner up. Not even the second runner up. If I were a man ... I'd look at them, not at this girl with cherry red coils, a fucking ugly, freckled, pierced nose and Asian eyes. Like Cuntrell would say with horniness in his eyes.
As a bisexual woman, and if I wasn't thinking about Sean... the blondie who's stuffing her bra with air right now would be sat on the sink, legs wide spread, and I'd be eating her out much better than any man has ever. Yum.