The Band Whore Diaries

10/22/17

Alright, motherfuckers.

I suppose I'm another one of those desperate bitches that's turned to social media to spill my woes and sorrows, hoping somebody, somewhere will give a fuck.

Unfortunately, nobody really gives a fuck about a pill-popping, kleptomaniac band whore, much like myself.

Why?

Well, for starters, I slept with just about any band you can think of to get somewhere in this industry.

Obviously, it hasn't gotten me anywhere.

Because here I still am, being a fucking problematic merch girl with nothing but a carton of cigarettes and a shitty attitude.

Speaking of which, I just so happen to be responsible for Asking Alexandria's merch sales.

Let's just say that my job is laughably easy.

Basically, I get paid to sit under a cheap tent, selling Asking Alexandria merch to rabid fans that have no idea how Danny Worsnop really is.

However, Danny is a different story.

Danny merely skims the surface of my massive list of exes, and I'm sure you can only imagine how awkward things are between us.

However, Danny is not the only member of Asking Alexandria that I've dated, so instead, I decided it would be a good idea to plow through the rest of the band.

But unfortunately, Danny is an immature man-child that holds a fucking grudge.

Speaking of immature man-children, I guess I should declare that Dahvie Vanity is my go-to fuck buddy, whenever I can't get laid by anyone else.

It's kind of like when someone takes the last slice of chocolate cake, and instead, you get a shitty cup of tapioca pudding.

Well, not really.

But you get the idea.

I keep our situation a secret, mostly because I'd be mortified if anyone found out about us, even though I'd firmly deny it anyway.

And now, it's time for the Blood Spatter and Cake Batter Tour, where the madness is bound to ensue.

If you happen to live under a rock, Blood Spatter and Cake Batter is the biggest tour of the year, and it's very difficult to get a slot in the line up.

Not only is it a big deal, but it's widely acclaimed for the unlimited drugs and liquor that are freely available anywhere and everywhere.

This mass gathering is held in an empty field in the middle of nowhere, where the attendees camp onsite.

It's pretty much like one big, never-ending party, and nobody really goes home.

So, if you can't handle the intensity of underage drinkers, hardcore drug addicts, or careless savages, then this isn't the place for you.

Considering this tour is nothing more than a glorified clusterfuck, it's ironically quite organized.

Everyone's split up into five different sections; North, South, East, West, and Main Field.

Normally, there's about four bands assigned to each section, and Main Field is home to the attendees, and also to Merch Alley.

Fortunately, I was able to snag an empty spot in East Field, thanks to some mediocre band that cancelled at the last minute.

This year, I'm more than glad that I was spared from staying in Main Field with everyone else.

After a few rounds of shots, these kids like to start setting shit on fire, and I do not need to be in that situation again.