Tales Of A RATT (47 page)

But, it wasn't based in California anymore.

We set on the side of the road for three hours before someone got there to take care of us. Big 18-wheelers were flying by, freaking us out. I had barely been able to get the truck and trailer over to the shoulder, so these fucking big-rigs were flying by at 80 miles an hour less that four feet from us. Really un-nerving.

The tow truck shows up with a flatbed, and loads up the boat and trailer. Cost me seven hundred and fifty Hondo to get that done. We had to stay the night back in El Paso. I was going to stay at Bret Michaels' house when we went through Arizona. He had called and lived in Scottsdale.

By the time we got our stuff fixed, and were on the road again, plans were adjusted. We were on our way to Lake Havasu, and that was far more important than Mr. Michael's and his headband, or hairband. Whatever the hell he calls that thing.

I gotta give him shit. He's so fucking lucky. Because of that wacky assed reality show of his, he's getting $30,000 to $40,000 per night on his solo gigs when he was only getting around $10,000 before! And, in the world of living vicariously through your colorful singer, Poison's asking price just jumped from $60,000 to $100,000 per show, or so I'm told.

"Rock of Love" has struck gold for those guys. That's got to "rock his world" better than any of the pseudo-stripper chicks that compete on that damned show.

They're good guys. I just gotta give them a little shit. Lucky bastards. This year, Poison headlines the "Rock Of Love Tour!” Get your panties ready, ladies!

I'm going to do a reality show. It's going to be called "Bobby Blotzer presents: Fuck Love! Give Me A Chick With No Issues!” Every week, I'll eliminate the one who makes me the most crazy.

I got back to California on May 4, 2007. Our rehearsal schedule for the new tour was to begin on May 7, which it did. At the end of that rehearsal day, literally three minutes after we had finished, I got the call that Mum had died.

I had all my furniture in a 30-foot trailer, which was driven out here on a truck, and Jack (my dog) and Leo (my cat) were living with me in a one-room studio apartment in Woodland Hills. I was about to go out on a three and a half month tour, and I didn't want to buy a house until I got back from it. It was really shitty timing. The whole thing was very depressing, just all of us in this one little room.

It was a tough time, all the way around. I was feeling really alone. Even my friends didn't seem to be as close, and I was really let down that Misty hadn't called me after my Mum's death. Eventually, she did, but it was a couple of weeks after the fact. I'll never forget that, or forgive that. She insists that she called, and I don't know why she does that, because it never happened.

It was a very strange time for me. With Misty, I don't know what was happening. I don't know if I was just very lonely, and all I could remember were our good times together, but I started feeling that spark for her, again. I still had this love for her.

We had lived in our apartment in Encino together, then bought the house up in Canyon Country and lived there for four and a half years. But, then it just turned bad. She became a hard person to live with. High tempered, and argumentative, she would do things just to spite you. She'd cut off her toe to spite her foot.

The weird thing is that I went out with her on May 28 for dinner, in hopes that we could get back together. I was ready to sip the soured milk again. Maybe it was better, now.

She was seeing this metrosexual looking model type who had been over in Australia for two or three months. I was telling her things like, "Do you think this guy is ever going to love you like I do? Come on! You've been around enough to know who has the heart, who has the love, so do you want to make this happen? Let's go do what you always wanted to do.”

Misty always wanted me to marry her, and I wasn't going to do that. Not just with her, but with anyone. Suddenly, I was willing to do that with her, and rekindle something that had gone so wrong just two years earlier. I was willing to do it.

She said she couldn't, that she was involved.

That was well and good. I took her home, dropped her off, and went to hang out at Howl at the Moon in Universal City. My friend Jullian promotes there. That's where Ashley walked into my life.

First, let me stipulate the ages, so you can get an understanding. When I met Traci, she was 22 and I was 38; 14 year gap. Misty was 21, and I was 41; 19 year gap. She was the kind of girl who always worked, and always contributed to the house, but I had to constantly bitch, and complain before she would do it.

This is the problem that sabotages my relationship with Ashley. I'm the sole proprietor in this thing, and I don't like it. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Misty2 was 34, and I was 48; another 14 year gap. Now, I've got Ashley. I'm 48 at the time, and she's 22; 26 year gap. I'm just lucky, I guess...or maybe not. You decide.

With Ashley, we hit it off so hard, and so quick. We were on the phone constantly. I fell in love with her almost overnight. She was way too young, and I knew it, but she seemed like a pretty sharp cookie, and we had so much in common, that I was willing to overlook that and pass up my better judgment.

However, my relationship guards were standing watch at their posts. I can tell you this much, it’s a horrible thing to be a man who is quick to love and be loved, yet be a bit guarded against that thing that makes him most happy. Where’s the line? Do you open up again, and risk being hurt one more time, or do you keep it all at arms length?

There’s no good answer to that, I’m sure. In the end, you make your decisions and live with them. In my case, I’d rather lose love than not love at all. Your life is better for the experiences you put it through…and I’ve got a great life.

Ashley didn't have very many world experiences, though. She'd never been intimate with a guy, never lived with one. Those were things that I just couldn't believe. This was my angel, man.

So, yeah…I loved…and lost…again.

She started coming out on the road with me. Ashley and I had a connection for one another. She's very funny and talented. We loved being around each other so much that it's like were the only ones there, even when were standing around loads of people.

Ashley was born in Torrance, California, actually at the same hospital that Michael and Marcus were born in. Then her parents moved up north to Paso Robles, California. I went up there a few times with her. It's a nice, funky, small town atmosphere. Her parents are pretty good people and we got along.

She and I had so much in common, even with our considerable age gap. Most of the time, I didn't think about it till she did some of the stuff that twenty-two year old people tend to do.

At that age, they think they know it all, almost without exception. I did it; you did it; It's all part of that fucked up transition from being a kid to being an adult.

Ashley wanted to be an actress. Unfortunately, she had no clue how to get there, and had nothing on the ball for it. Yet, she would talk about "when I'm this famous actress"? There's reality, and there's fantasy. If you plan right, the two will intersect, and you get both, but it isn't easy. You have to fight for it, and fight hard. Ashley had the fantasy part down, and I want her to realize those dreams, but I couldn't help her with it. I don't know anything about that business.

Ashley has many of the same problems that other really young women have.

She has “Princess Syndrome.” I’ll explain.

So many girls spend their entire life being told that they are “little princesses.” They’re catered and coddled to the point that they grow up feeling that the world owes them something. They feel they are a princess, and should be treated accordingly. It’s a horrible injustice that parents, particularly fathers, do to their daughters.

They wind up living in a fantasy world, and when they begin to discover that their world doesn’t really exist outside childhood, they get lost and don’t know what to do.

That’s Ashley. I love her more than I can explain, but the “Princess Syndrome” continually sabotaged the relationship. She’s smart. She’s got a lot going on upstairs. Unfortunately, there’s no life experience to back it up. It’s like learning to drive a car. You can know all the road rules, and everything about how a car works, but until you’ve actually done it, you don’t know shit.

Meanwhile, I get stuck trying to get Cinderella’s fucking shoe back on her foot! That is, unless she’s acting like an adult. She’s never been an adult, mind you, so she doesn’t have a point of reference. She’s had some jobs. She worked at Disneyland for three years, playing Snow White, and there’s been a few others sprinkled around since. Mostly, she likes to surf, boogie board, your basic California girl, and I couldn't help but be entranced by her! I proposed to her very fast.

I gave her a big ring while I was out on the road in 2007. She moved in with me, and while she worked, she never contributed anything to the household. This is our biggest source of friction. I’m not a Sugar Daddy. Never have been, and never will be. Refuse to be.

It was a struggle with her. When she was sweet, she was sweet and fine, and I loved her. However, she had a propensity to argue. Argue, hell; she was downright combative, and over anything at all. If I talk about the shape of a bottle, she will disagree with me. If I say the sky is blue, she will call it cobalt or something.

I liken it to a kid with their parents when they are trying to buck the system. It’s not to be insulting to her, but it’s what she has to work with as far as life experience. She’s got the princess mentality, and the natural sarcasms of someone who is still a child at heart.

So, in March of 2008, she moved out for about three weeks. When she moved back home, it was simply because we missed each other horribly. However, she continued to pay rent at the place she was at, despite the fact that she didn’t live there. Instead of contributing to the household she was a part of, she ignored it.

All I want was someone who would pitch in; someone who will help out. I’m not asking for someone to cover the whole thing. I’m not even asking for someone who covers half. I just want someone who behaves like they are part of my life, and not owed a piece of it.

We went through the summer like this, and by the start of fall, it was coming to a head. She was working at an aerospace engineering company as an administrative assistant. She wasn’t making great money, certainly not by Southern California costs of living, but she was making some, yet still refused to contribute.

I pushed her about it, and in November of 2008, she moved out again. I found myself in a familiar place. I was going out, meeting some cool girls and having a good time, but I still had this love for her that I couldn’t get past. I had to give it one more go. I had to at least try to get past our issues enough that we could make this work, because I knew the love was there.

We’ve spent the last year or so in this same routine. Move in, move out, fight, make up, break up, get back together. Round and round and round and round…sounds like a song I know!

On June 25th, I woke up and felt really bummed. I have felt this way before, but this time something was really bumming me out, and I didn't know what it was. I told Ashley that every time I feel this way, something weird is going to happen or has already happen; true story. I had decided to help Ashley get a car, because the one she had always had problems and I was always the one fixing it. Her parents weren’t able or willing to help, so I was the lucky winner to replace the junker.

We went out looking for a car. We stopped at the mall, and while she was spending a gift card in Victoria Secret, I sat in a chair still feeling the strange sensation that something wasn’t right when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey dad!”

“Hey! What's up?”

“Did you hear about Michael Jackson having a heart attack?”

“WHAAAAAT? NO! When?”

“It just hit the news.”

I said, “Well I doubt there's anything to it. He's just doing something for press to hype his new shows in the UK.” This was at 1:00 PM.

We arrived at Railway Motors, a used car lot in Valencia Ca. at 2:00 PM. I asked them to turn on the TV and told them what I heard from my son. I had been listening to the radio on the way there and there were unconfirmed reports of his death. I was telling the salesman Larry there.

He was like, “NO SHIT?,”

“Yes turn it on.” And we sat there for the next two hours in disbelief, shock and sadness. I was up the whole next week glued to anything and everything Michael.

I had a strong bond to Michael. We were the same age. He was 2 months older than me. I got turned on the Jackson 5 in summer of 1970, and loved every great hit they put out. I stayed with Michael and the Jackson 5 through their careers and all the way through June 25th like it was a brother who's career I watched and supported.

Every party I've ever had, we ended up playing Michael Jackson music. On my boat when we’re at the lake, come nightfall, the girls are up dancing to Michael Jackson’s greatest hits. I promise to never let that end.

I really think he was a very special human being and a gift to the likes that we'll never see again. What do we have now to replace? Nelly? Jay Fking Z? Whom I can't stand. No one.

We'll never see the top three best ever replaced, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, and the Beatles.

Thank god I was here to have seen them while they were alive, to listen to their music on the radio and have them become a part of my core existence. As of this writing, I'm still having problems accepting this death.

The final breaking point came just recently. Ratt had booked a gig with Queensryche, Tesla and Skid Row on a pleasure cruise. It was good times to be had. Unfortunately, it was here that I learned what an actress Ashley really is.

We got into an argument that stemmed from her talking about our private issues to anyone and everyone. I had told her repeatedly, “Stop dragging our private shit out for everyone to see.” She wouldn’t listen, though. Every time I turned around, she would be talking it out with complete strangers or casual acquaintances.