My mate Julie and I bought tickets to go see Liverpool play Hertha here in Berlin at the Olympia Stadium. Last time I was there was a couple summers ago to see the Stones. I actually saw Liverpool FC play there before, think it was August 1993. So fun to watch them play. They are amazing. AND The Beatles come from Liverpool, so naturally I am going to support them. Their color is RED, so my gal pal and I wore red.
Tickets were only 25 euros ($35?), which is pretty fair. This was just a "friendly" match, nothing big at risk. Everyone was super relaxed (read:drunk) and having a great time.
Olympia Stadium, Berlin (not taken day of game fyi)
Our seats weren't that great, or even next to each other, but we managed to find an easy going security guard who went against the strict German rules and let us in a section that wasn't *gasp* the one on our ticket. We wanted to sit with Liverpool supporters (where the most red shirts were). As I said in my video, above, we soon found out, that just because they were wearing red and supporting Liverpool, doesn't mean they are FROM Liverpool, or even the UK. There were all East Germans, yes, I know, there is no more "East or West" officially, but mentally, it's still here. The "Ossi's hate the Wessi's" etc.. Anyways, the East Germans HATE Hertha (Berlin's Football club) so much because they are "West" that they would rather support the "Inselaffen" as they call the Brits (the Island Apes, because the UK is an island, blah blah).
Lots of players falling down and lots of "ecken" (corners?) wtf does that mean? I admit, I don't know all the football lingo and all, but it's even worse trying to figure out the football lingo in another language. I can speak and read (and write) German, but these sport terms had me confused.
We did the wave a few times. I love that. We all sang the football songs, and Julie told me as I walked up to have a slash (piss) the guys were singing "Get your tits out" but I didn't even notice because I thought it was just another football chant and blocked it out. ha ha.
These lads sat two rows in front of us and asked us to pose for pictures like 10 times. They are from East Germany too.
Julies perky tits are a bit hidden here… I guess I squashed them. Sorry Julie. Word: Underwire Bra.
A sporty sausage fest.
Julie and I were asked by at least 50 guys to pose with them for a picture. So, why not ask them to take one of us? Julie was like "wot the FUCK Dot? Why are all these people asking us for pictures??". A couple of the German guys asked me if I was 'Dr. Dot' and one said he saw me on TV, one on Big Brother (I was in the BIg Brother container for one whole day a few years ago massaging all the peeps. You can see pics at www.puredrdot.com click on LINKS and see Big Brother banner). It was actually getting embarrassing as people were trying to watch the game and there was this massive hoopla around us, omfg. I am UNDER exaggerating. Seriously. Wish Julie would put her two cents it. She is a writer too, so perhaps she will blog too. The girls seated a few rows up from us were shooting daggers at us with there eyes. Hey, get yourself a red dress. Red is THE color apparently.
Julie and I took a taxi to the game to save time, but decided to take the S-Bahn (over ground train) towards home. It was so fucking packed outside the Olympia Stadium anyways, that no taxi would ever get through. So we plowed along with the hordes of football fans (some hooligans too) and squeezed onto the train. I usually never take public transport here (used to years ago) because you can basically walk anywhere in Berlin (keeps legs slim), rollerblade or walk. PLUS, Germans fucking STARE. I mean they REALLY do not know the difference between an innocent glance and an outright 5 minute long stare. No one has ever taught them that it's kinda rude. lol. I remember dating a massive brick layer from London named Kevin years ago, like hmmm, 1993, here in Berlin. He was a weight lifter and built like a brick shit house (normally not my type, but he loved Elvis, so that won him brownie points). Anyways, I remember my fling with Kevin didn't last long because every time we went somewhere in public, like a pub or the underground train, Germans would stare at us (I was doing Madonna dopple-gaenger shows (impersonations) for money because I could not speak German yet and so I had a short white wavy bob (like her Blonde Ambition tour cut) and super thin eyebrows and he looked like a fucking wrestler. Anyways, they would stare and he was so aggressive (he told me he took steroids to get bigger muscles ) he would SCREAM at all the Germans who looked at us, which of course, brought more attention to us, and then more aggression from him towards them. Omfg. Nightmare. Anyways, Germans stare and I was dressed in red, as you can see, and had the cleavage on at full force (hey, we only live once, let them breath. Someday they will shrivel up and rot, so for now, they are out).
The guys on the train heard Julie and I talking in English (we can both speak fluent German) so the lads didn't know we could understand them at all. The train was PACKED and they were making LOUD, obnoxious comments about her skirt, her tits, my tits, my dress, etc. We just smile to each other and kept on talking. After a few stops, some seats became available and she and I sat across from one another and the hooligans sat next to us (there were loads of them). The train got a bit quiet when they sat down next to us and they kept on talking about how they would LOVE to do this and that to us. They suddenly I turned to the loudest one and in perfect German, loud enough for everyone to hear, I asked "So what was that you said awhile ago about my tits?". His jaw hit the floor. They all turned bright red (guessing they were around 20 years old). The whole train, apart from them, was laughing their asses off. Snap.
I wasn't offended or pissed, I mean, if you dress that way, you have to expect some flack (got it every day in High School when I was dating Joey Ramone, but instead of Red, I was wearing PINK every day (hate pink now, would never wear it again). Most of the time, I wear sporty clothes, but sometimes I like to vamp it up. SO bring it on, I have a massive sense of humor and a sharp tongue. What was that one of my friends called me the other night "Tornado Tongue." hmmmm. heh heh.
Well, neither Julie nor I are BVG (Berliner public transportation) savvy, so we got off at the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and were both so famished we would have eating the South end of a North bound skunk at that point. We scarfed down some amazing German bread (Germans make the BEST fucking bread I have ever had) and then headed over to Murry's Irish Pub (used to be the Emerald Isle). My mate Steve is the cook there (he is from Dublin and is engaged to a German lady). A lot of the English speaking community of Berlin hangs here at Murry's. Hey, if you feel like just speaking English, you hang out with fellow English speakers. So we do.
Great BOWIE shirt, no?
Sid and Nancy in Berlin? ^
This is "Beano" and he is from Ireland and reminds me of Sid Vicious . He sings with a punk band too. The blond girl (Anne) is his German pal. All of us English mother tongue folk all see each other about town, drink at the same places and basically all know each other. Most of us all get along.
Two English regulars (guy at far left if Graham) and Steve (did his hair blond recently) and Julie. Dam I wish I could remember everyone's names. Why can't people wear name tags? heh.
Steve and I ^ My neck looks like one of the Olsen twins in this pic. sigh.
Another blog, another morning that I am STILL up at 9am. Seriously thinking of going to Thailand for Christmas and New Years. Just a random thought. I need something new; always going to the same places. Just a tad afraid of the mosquitos(sp?), American haters (will I get kid naped and decapitated live on TV? Will a hurricane wash me away? What a pussy I am turning into lately.). If you have been to Thailand, tpell me, where did you go? Where is the best place to go? Not into lady boys and shopping. Clean beaches, good hotels and mostly, where one can feel safe. Yawn, off to bed.
Jet Li is in Berlin and called for a massage. I was so EXCITED… until he said it has to be a male. Sigh. So I send my assistant, Jonas (who massages me every week, so I KNOW Jet is in GREAT hands. I will be adding Jet to our list of “satisfied clients”. Yay!! I guess he feels only a man can give him super deep tissue. Ahem, he has never met me. Hands of steel that heal.
Last night I visited my friend Ron, an American cult figure here in Berlin. He is a karaoke whore to the extreme. He went so far as to open his own karaoke club (Moster Ronson’s Karaoke bar ). They have karaoke 7 nights a week (he said he LOATHES Bachelorette groups/parties with a passion fyi- they show up already pissed out of their heads (drunk) and don’t buy any drinks at all and hog the mic). Ron’s place is very bizarre. Some men wearing dresses, women wearing motorcycle gear, people arriving at 5am- I guess it never closes. Drinks are dirt cheap and finally, it’s finally smoke free, HUGE song list, I mean EVERYTHING and it’s free to get in and sing. No tourist there at all. Just freaky Berliners. Is it just me or does that guy above resemble Barney? ^
Another cool thing about Ron’s karaoke place, is you just NEVER know what’s gonna go down. Ron announced that this guy, above, in dread locks, will take off his clothes AND swing round the stripper pole for TEN EUROS. He started a collection, asking the crowd to donate, to raise the 10 Euros to have this guy get good and naked and give us a show. Naturally, the Berliners held tight to their pennies. Fuck that. I just gave him 10 Euro. Get yer kit off, I need entertainment dammit.
Something me told me this guy has done this before (his female friend sang the Kiss tune “I was made for loving you baby” during the strip. Gene would have vomited.
My friend “M” ^ and I posing for Monster Ron.
M sang some Rocky Horror Picture show (and Pulp and Bowie) tunes which drove the crowd MAD. I sang some Led Zepp, Rod Stewart and Janis (‘Cry Baby’).
Every 2nd Friday they have karaoke at Oscar Wilde’s Irish Pub on Friedrich strasse and their sound is THE BEST. Another bonus, NO SMOKING. So your hair and clothes won’t smell disgusting when you get home. HUGE song list, great sound, but LONG WAIT.
Berlin is bursting with anticipation today. You can almost hear the people holding their breath whilst awaiting the big football match tomorrow. I will certainly be watching the show, but not on fan-mile, as it's too crowded and unpredictable, as in, you don't know if you're going to get smashed in the face or not.
Thursday MORNING my phone rang at 10 am. Normally I don't hear it as I turn it on silent, but because the night before was a bit wild (that was the night Germany beat Turkey and the wild Exberliner party night) and even though I ONLY drink two glasses of wine when I go out (any more and I end up blowing chunks) I still felt tired as fuck due to all the cig smoke in the air at Kaffee Burger. ANYWAYS, when I come home from a night out, I stay up even later than normal, catching up on the 300+ emails I receive whilst out.
So I had only been sleeping two hours, and they weren't even a good two hours as the construction workers seemed to be tearing down every building within a mile radius of my flat, the concierge of the Adlon hotel called and said the President of Georgia wanted another massage from me RIGHT NOW before his flight at noon. Um, sorry, can't do it.
I am not lazy by no means, but it's easier for me to do a massage at 4 am than at 10 am. 4 am is NO problem, I am still wide awake, full of energy, but 10 am for me is like 3 am for most normal people, who sleep from 10 pm to 6 am. I had to decline and the Pres will either be (1) angry and never talk to me again or (2) take that as a challenge and REALLY invite me to Georgia as he promised to finally get round two of "the best massage" he has ever had in his life. We shall see. I think this was the first time I said "no" to a hotel here in Berlin, but after two hours of extremely interrupted sleep, the massage would have been half-assed anyways and I would rather to NO massage than a shitty massage.
Irish gals out on the piss ^
Was out last night for a bit of karaoke at Oscar Wilde again. Can you believe the two dark haired girls at the top of this ^ picture are 17 years old (left side) and 15 years old (right side)? Well, I also didn't look 15 when I was 15, but it's funny seeing 15 year olds drink beer, as you know in Yank land you have to be 21 to even get into a bar. Berlin is so liberal. I sang 'River Deep Mountain High', 'Stay with me' < Rod Stewart, and 'D'yer Maker' < Led Zepp.. I love to sing but HATE being around drunk people who keep repeating themselves over and over again and there is one guy that is there every time I go there who SWEARS to GOD he is Smokey Robinson. Everyone believes him too- except me.
I'm like, fuck right off, if you were Smokey (didn't he die?) then why the fuck are you singing the same two songs every time karaoke is on? He sings "simply the best" by Tina Turner and "kiss" by Prince. Again, I love to sing, but karaoke is a freak magnet. Not sure how much more of it I will take. Ugh. Thing is, I don't like to just go out and drink as I don't drink much, so I have to have something to do, as in table soccer or karaoke, or I get bored. Hanging around in a bar just doesn't appeal to me. Watching a football match is good fun though but still, drunks irk me to no end.
Tough for me as I LOVE Rock and Roll but most of the guys who LOVE rock and roll are into drugs, drinking, lying around doing nothing. I love rock and roll, but work out, eat healthy as fuck and don't smoke and barely drink and I am as ambitious as Donald Trump (not as rich, just as ambitious) ha! Boo fucking hoo, I don't fit in. ha ha. Gotta run, it's gorgeous out
^ "fan mile" (in background you can see the Adlon Hotel where Michael Jackson dangled the baby out the window AND where I massaged the President the other night).
I am sure you heard it already, but last night Germany won over Turkey in football (soccer to the yanks) 3-2. It was a close game the whole time, super exciting!!!
Martina, my preggy gal pal, is lovin' her extra cleavage ^ I found it hard to look in her eyes whilst talking to her with such lovely optical distractions right in front of me, now I know how it must feel to be a man
Martina (my pregnant girlfriend) and I went and watched it in Oscar Wilde Irish pub, which is normally a peaceful place, BUT last night hard core German football hooligans, all with shaved heads, Doc Martin boots and Nazi symbols filled the place. At first there were just ten of them and it was funny watching them scream and shout and carry on, but then 20 or so more piled in and it got scary. Martina is German and said the songs and chants they were belting out were old German Nazi songs. The other Germans in the place were also getting very very uncomfortable with this, but even the owner and bar tenders were petrified of them, so no one could do anything. It was even too crowded to leave at one point. The shit really hit the fan when the power went out. There was a massive storm in Basel which caused a disruption of video footage, which means, all over the world, people who were watching it live, had to watch a blank screen for a few minutes during the match, and that happened 4 times, which created even more anticipation and frenzies galore.
Every time there was a goal from either side, stools went flying, beer was tossed everywhere (Martina and I were dressed in girly dresses and little strappy sandals and got SOAKED). There is no stopping these guys. A few took off their shirts and showed they had Nazi ( swastikas ) all over them as well as this one:
Every country has it's nationalists, but this is the closest I have been to the chaos they bring. Sometimes it seems football and nationalism go hand and hand together, sigh. This one hooligan KEPT spilling beer down Martina's back (who is 7 months pregnant) and I asked him to back up and be careful and he just screamed at us and made obscene hand gestures. Scary guys.
One of the Jewish waitresses was off duty and sitting with us during the whole match, she was not amused. Anyways, not sure how the Turks dealt with losing as there were NO TURK supporters what so ever in that pub, or on the streets in that area afterwards. I am sure they are pissed off, gutted, sad. However, the Germans are in the BEST mood ever, the sun is shining and Berlin is heaven on earth at the moment (if Jasmine was here it would be even better, but she is still in Italy).
Lots of great concerts coming up again here in Berlin, Motorhead, Radio Head, etc.. I will never be able to decide between NYC and Berlin. I just can't. I love them both. So instead of me trying to decide, I decided not to decide. Less pressure. ha! Next month the official smoking ban will be enforced ( I will believe it when I see it) then Berlin would be even BETTER. The Oscar Wilde pub is smoke free; LOVES IT! But "Kaffe Burger " where we went after the match to help the Exberliner celebrate it's 6th anniversary, was smoky as fuck. Oh, it's predominantly men there, and even being 7 months pregnant< Martina & I were getting hit on non-stop. So, if you are a lady and looking for a man in Berlin, head to Kaffe Burger. jeeze!!
Working on my France and Italy blogs, I swear. It's raining and COLD here in NYC but that does NOT keep me inside. My very good friend Chrissi and I went out the other night for karaoke. I did NOT know it was her first time.
I watched her pop her karaoke cherry and didn't even know it until AFTER she brought the fucking house down doing "I'm torn". She danced all around, held the mic like she had been doing so for years. Then after the song she said "it wasn't as scary as I thought!". I was like "uh, what do you mean?" She told me it was REALLY her first time ever. I was shocked. She was a natural pro! Not a shy cell in her body. Then again, her dad is a rather famous musician so it must be in her genes.
Chrissi luckily got our of the US Army just in time as she was just about to be shipped to Iraq. Now she is back home and enjoying her favorite hobby Sky Diving on a regular basis. She is FEARLESS. I need to call Simon Cowell, this girl belongs on American Idol. She's GOT IT.
^ Taken a few hours ago in an Irish bar, midtown (pretty sure it's called PJ Clarke's), none of the staff was Irish..anyways, they claim to have one of the oldest toilets in NYC. They said they are "over 100 years old". WOAH, that's really old (not!). Baby USA lol…..
I went to PJ Clarke's after a stop in at a bar called 2A, because it's on 2nd street and avenue A. When you ask for a wine list, they roll their eyes and say "red or white, that's our list!". The snotty bartenders barely look up from their Blackberry pearls, so good luck getting their arrogant service. Two good things about the place though are (1) the music (the bitchy bartenders have great shit on their iPods) (2) It's dirt cheap. Just thought I would throw a little review in there, heh heh.
It's bloody cold here in NYC. Been swamped with things to do, people to visit and packing for my journey back to Berlin in a couple days. Once I am settled in, I will spend hours uploading the many pictures I have taken over the last couple of months. I supposed on one hand it's good thing when one is too busy to blog properly, but I find it therapeutic and it helps me sleep better once I've unloaded all the shit flying around in my mind onto my blog. Sadly, I can't write everything I would like to, as certain people in my life read my blog religiously and get upset, jealous, etc.. that sucks as I wish I could just write everything I am doing, thinking, etc.. but I do try to write in a way that one can read a tad between the lines. Censorship sucks ass.
My fingers are KILLING me from doing so many massages. Fuck, my knuckles hurt so bad. I have been massaging pretty much non stop since I was 5 years old; starting on my mom and her hurtin' back and feet and it's taking a toll on my fingers as I don't just pet people, I insist on doing extreme deep tissue, which gives the patient lots of energy, but it takes mine. Guess that means at least my hands are getting old. dam!
Massage therapists are like shooting stars. They usually shine really bright for a few years, but they can't last forever. Usually people start doing massage at around 20 and throw in the towel after ten or 15 years as it is really taxing on the body (schlepping the heavy massage table up and down stairs, working odd hours usually spontaneously.. it is a difficult profession. I started WAY young and so I am feelin' it. I have met therapists that retired at age 40 already (well, they do other things for a living after; things that are not as physically taxing).
The rest of me feels great, it's just my knuckles and wrists that are aching. Tried wearing a copper bracelet for a while, I didn't notice a big difference. I wonder if that is just a scam/hoax?
It's gonna be tough leaving NYC again, this place is wild, ambitious, fast, loud, exciting, quirky, liberal, wealthy in every way and packed with talented people from all over the world, but most of all, it's FUN. Like Arnold said "I'll be back"
"A long, long time ago… I can still remember how That music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, That I could make those people dance, And maybe they'd be happy for a while. But February made me shiver, With every paper I'd deliver, Bad news on the doorstep… I couldn't take one more step. I can't remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride But something touched me deep inside, The day the music died."
It was the movie Rock ’n Roll High School
that turned me on to the Ramones. I had this burning teenage lust to meet the
singer, Joey Ramone. He looked so sexy! I’m not sure if it was how he sang “I
want you ‘round” so sensually to the girl in the movie, or how he wore his
jeans so snug on his boney hips, but I just had to meet this man.
In the movie, it’s totally impossible to even get a ticket to see the Ramones
in concert, much less to meet them in person. So I was going out of my mind
when I saw them for the first time at the Agora Ballroom in Hartford,
Connecticut, when I was 15. Before the show, I started talking to one of their
roadies, and he said he would introduce me to the band if I showed him my
tits. I was like ‘no deal’.
He let me watch the show from the soundboard anyhow, where you could see the
whole stage. The lighting person then was a guy named Arturo Vega, who
designed their logo and all of the record covers. He did sound, lights,
managed and organized the whole tour thing, and anything else the Ramones
needed at the time. Arturo was at the sound board and he asked me if I wanted
to meet the band (he kinda rescued me from the horney roadie guy who wanted to
see some TIT). So naturally I was over the moon at the offer. About twenty
minutes after the show, he took me backstage and upstairs to the dressing
The band was very sweet to me. DeeDee Ramone, the bassist, was acting all
crazy, making wild faces and smoking.
< DeeDee spitting
Johnny, the guitarist, was not at all
like I imagined. Not overly friendly, definitely not a flirt. The drummer at
the time was named Ritchie. He looked good, but he was involved with a ballet
dancer and he wasn’t very chatty to other females.
Then came the moment that I spoke to Joey. He was sitting alone in a corner.
Joey speaks very softly, and you have to listen up or you’ll miss something!
But everything the man said was funny as hell. This I found unbelievably
attractive. A man that can make a lady laugh has it all! He asked for my
number, and said they come to Connecticut often and that he would call me up
next time they were in town. I was in heaven! Joey signed my left tit, and
wrote “ To OL’ Dot, love Joey Ramone” and made the “O” in “OL’ go rite around
my nipple, I still have
Now I was even more crazy about the Ramones. At the time I was living with my
Grandfather and an Aunt in Ellington, CT. Bless their hearts, they had
absolutely no control over me at all. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I
pleased. Sure, they complained sometimes, and frowned upon certain things, but
they were too busy to actually tighten the leash.
Anyway, Gramps can be very grumpy, especially if woken up in the middle of the
night. Joey would usually call late at night, after the gig. I was thrilled,
but sometimes Gramps would answer the phone beside his bed before I could get
to the one in the kitchen. He would scream down the hallway, “Dot!!!
Joey is on the phone, and it’s two o’clock in the God Damned
morning!” But I would still get on the phone every time. I’d have to sit on
the stairs that went from the kitchen to the basement and talk to him very
quietly. It was so great to hear from Joey, my „first love” – like a dream
He would tell me where he was and what they were doing, and ask when I could
come to the next show. Joey lived in Manhattan, and most of the shows would
happen on Fridays. So from then on, after school on Thursdays, I was finished
with school until Monday. I was almost never in school on Fridays in the 11th
and 12th grades, all because of those concerts.
Uh, by the way, I had told Joey that I was 19 years old. I know, I know,
that’s lying, but I knew if he knew how old I really was, he would never have
been interested. My breasts surely looked 19 years old, so the tiny white lie
went over without a doubt.Most young girls make themself older and as we all
know, most older women make them self younger. *sigh* -women!
I went everywhere to see the Ramones. Any show in Connecticut, Rhode Island,
New York, all over New England – and I was there. I even flew to Virginia for
a concert once!
^ Me and Vera (Dee Dee’s first wife) at a Ramones show in Virginia Beach. I know,I know my HAIR!
Joey and I were an item, and I always got taken care of. After the shows I got
to ride in the minibus back to the hotel or to the next gig, sitting right
next to Joey. I always massaged his feet and hands in the mini van, and later
on I would massage his back in the hotel room. (Joey had a really bad back,
totally out of line.)
DeeDee always had the back seat and he would toke on a joint and tell the
weirdest jokes and stories. We never needed a radio! Arturo sat in the
passenger seat, and Monty, the Ramones’ tour manager, drove. Monty never cut
loose and partied; he was serious about his job. Once and a while I got him to
soften up and smile, to relax. Sometimes a little shoulder massage while he
was driving helped.
Sometimes I would be so damn tired that I would put my head in Joey’s lap and
he would play with my hair for hours. It was heaven. Joey was actually very
shy and withdrawn. He wasn’t a loudmouth; he was very smart, funny and gentle.
He didn’t talk much, but when he did speak, it was always wise, sarcastic, or
hilarious. When he kissed me, he would put me on his lap and hold me, and the
kisses seemed to last forever. He had the softest lips oh GOD how lovely they
^ Joey and I (that is a fake fur I am wearing so calm the fuck down)
After a while, I became a part of the Ramones scene. I even helped out a bit.
Before every show, Joey had a routine. He put on his fingerless leather gloves
and his stage clothes – which varied from time to time, but it was usually
very tight dark jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Then he would find an empty
room and do these very loud vocal exercises, clearing his sinuses with very
loud honking noises. No one was allowed to watch, but I was always waiting for
him outside the door, so I heard it all. I just thought it was great to be
able to witness all these pre-concert preparations. I still enjoy seeing what
all the stars do before shows. Some pray, some meditate. A lot of them do
vocal exercises. I have always found every aspect of backstage prep just as
exciting as the show., and sometimes even better!
Sometimes I would help Joey off the stage. Normally this was Monty’s job, but
I did it whenever I was around. Joey wore very dark tinted glasses, and it
would be so dark when the lights were off at the end of the show – and he was
so damn tall – he needed someone to hang onto, to help him see to get down the
ramp or the stairs.
Then there were the favors I did for DeeDee. At the time, DeeDee was married
to a gorgeous woman named Vera, but he also enjoyed nice scenery backstage. A
„looking at the menu, but not ordering” kind of attitude. DeeDee would have me
go out into the audience before and after the show to „find a cute chick.” So,
with my good eye for beauty, I would scout around and find the cutest looking
girl. I’d tell her DeeDee wanted to meet her, or ask her if she would like to
I would bring her backstage and introduce her to the gang. DeeDee would have
his very dark Sun Glasses on, so you couldn’t even see his eyes. He would just
casually say ‘Hi,” and stay sitting where he was, usually in a corner, and
hardly talk to the girl! Talking to her was my job. I would just chat with her
and try to make her feel comfortable. It was actually very difficult, because
they never knew what was going on (no one did).
Girls would wonder why they were brought backstage, and the only real reason
was to light up the room, to give the band some eye candy. Even though it was
DeeDee’s idea, he would just smoke his joint and stare, or even pick his nose
in front of the girl. He didn’t care. This behavior usually scared the shit
out of the girl, and she would ask to excuse herself and quickly disappear.
Once I asked DeeDee why he picked his nose when the girls were around, and he
said, ‘Well, I don’t want them to fall for me. I just like to look at them!’
It was hilarious.
THE RAMONES II, from Dot’s diary:
The absolute highlight of my whole time with
the Ramones was the concert they played in my „home town,” Ellington, CT. It
was summer 1984, and I was begging Joey to come play in my tiny little town.
„But there isn’t even a concert hall there,” he argued. So I told him about a
restaurant in Ellington called the Country Squire. I told him the Country
Squire had a little stage, and they sometimes had country acts there. And
besides, the bartender, Kenny, was the biggest Ramones fan in the world.
So, after a lot of pleading and foot massages, Joey agreed. I can still
remember doing sit-ups in my grandfather’s living room, watching MTV, and
seeing the VJ’s face when she read off the Ramones’ tour dates. When she got
to Connecticut, it sounded like she was asking a question: „The Country
Squire? Ellington, Connecticut?” (the Country Squire is now called
Cippinno’s ). All my friends from school called me in
disbelief. They all knew I was hanging out with Joey, but still no one
believed they would come to Ellington. It’s in the middle of nowhere! It’s a
Of course, most of my high school showed up for the gig. An hour and a half
after the show was scheduled to start, there was still no sign of the band,
and I was sweating bullets. Everybody was teasing me, saying the Ramones
weren’t coming, that it was all a joke. Then the mini van finally pulled up in
the gravel parking lot. I was practically crying for joy.
The guys jumped out and started explaining why they were late. Just up the
road by our local 7-11, the cops had pulled them over, apparently for
speeding. One look at the Ramones, though, in all their black leather, and the
cops had a field day. They searched the whole van for clues of a rock band’s
party materials – but they found nothing. The police tried to keep them there
as long as possible anyhow. It was probably the most exciting thing that had
ever happened to them. I mean, how exciting could it be to work as a cop in a
town like Ellington?
Finally, the concert began. I remember Joey hitting his head on the ceiling
during the show, because he is so frickin tall. He cut his head – it was even
bleeding a little. But they kept on playing.
During the break, the band and I went out back to get some air. The guys were
like, „Dot, there are cows surrounding us, and there’s corn everywhere. What
the fuck is this place?” I was so happy, I just wanted to marry Joey and live
happily ever after. And all my friends were totally flipping that the Ramones
were playing in our town. It was Ellington being put on the map.
Joey wanted to stay with me so he and DeeDee came over to my grandparents’
house. Gramps, who even Joey called „Grumpy Gramps,” made them both sleep in
the living room. The next morning, I remember bringing them to Vernon, the
next town over. They wanted to ride the go-carts. It was quite a sight, as
Joey’s legs were a frickin mile long, so it was hell for him to squeeze into
the tiny go-cart seats. This is why I loved Joey. He was so fun, drinking
chocolate milk, riding go-carts, making me laugh. He was like a big kid.
As always, it was really fun hanging out with Joey. He didn’t talk much, but
everything he did say had me in stitches. He didn’t flirt with anyone or even
talk to other girls. He made me feel like the only girl on earth. I remember a
lot of other details from that time.
Joey, Arturo and I often went out to eat
Indian food when I was in town. It was like a ritual. I remember Joey had a
cat named „Mouse.” Joey loved having his feet rubbed more than anything, and
he would massage my back. This was way before I became a professional
masseuse. He was so generous and caring, so romantic. I remember he would hold
me in his arms and kind of rock me, and he would pet my hair. Unlike most
boys, who would go right for the naughty parts, he always wanted to make me
feel comfortable. He was an awesome boyfriend, and I couldn’t get enough of
^ Richie (was the Ramones drummer for a while)
* I remember the Ramones played a place in New Haven CT called Toads place.
You absolutely had to be 18 to get into this place. The owner demanded to see
my ID but naturally I didn’t have one as I was still under age. Joey told
him that I was with him, but the prick didn’t care. He said under NO
was I allowed in the building. This argument went on for a few hours and
Joey said “either she comes in or we don’t play”. How romantic was that? Well,
we won and the show went on. What a man!!!!By the way, here’s some Ramones trivia: Joey told me that the name Ramones
comes from their love of the Beatles. In the 60s, when Paul McCartney would
check into hotels, apparently he would use the name “Paul Ramone.” Supposedly,
Paul took this from his album RAM which has a song called “Ram On”. In the
beginning of the Ramones’ career, they were being marketed as the punk
Beatles, because of the Beatles haircuts and matching punk clothes, four
RAMONES, NOVEMBER 1989
In November of 1989, I was living in Berlin doing the Hausfrau thing my
twenty-year-old husband and six-month-old daughter, when the Ramones once
again entered my life. I was thinking that my rock & roll days were long gone. Then one day the
phone rang. It was Arturo, telling me the Ramones were playing that night in
Berlin. It wasn’t that far from our house, so I told my guy that I wanted to
go and say hello.
It was the call of the wild, echoing in my ears once again, going, ‘Rock and
roll never forgets, Dot! Come back to us!’ I brought Benjamin and my daughter
– with the stroller, the burp rag, the whole family thing – to introduce my
family to the Ramones. “We’re a happy family” was ringing in my ears. I showed
my daughter off to the band, took a photo of Joey holding her in her little
snowsuit – November in Berlin is cold!
Joey didn’t want to meet Ben, and Ben couldn’t have cared less.I understood
Joey,I wouldn’t have wanted to meet his new girl either,we obviously still had
feelings for eachother. When the show started, it got mega loud as usual, and
I did not want my daughter to get scared. So we left without even seeing the
show. But contact with the music scene stirred something up in me again. I had
been trying to ignore it, but I couldn’t any longer.
By the time the Ramones came back in 1992 I looked completely different. I was
wild, dressing like Madonna, wearing mesh clothes, and acting as carefree as I
ever had. They couldn’t believe how many times I changed my ‘image,’ but back
at the hotel Joey told me that he adored them all. We sat for hours in Joey’s
room, C.J was there too, it was the first time I met him, it was fun to hang
with the new Ramone and Joey,my old flame. While we were chatting, I made use
of the time by massaging Joeys big feet, that was his favorite, a firm foot
massage,with little to no oil on my hands, so he could “feel” my hands better.
When I said good night, Joey kissed me on the cheek and made me promise to
keep in touch. I would call on holidays and every time I went to America, I
would call Joey and we would have a nice chat, so we did keep in touch.I
still,to this day,know his old number by heart.
THE RAMONES VI, from Dot’s diary, January 1996:
The Ramones were just in
Berlin as part of their “Adios Amigos” tour, which is supposed to be their
last tour ever.
^ Joey, me and Monte back stage at Huxley’s Neue Welt
^ Marky gets a foot rub back stage in Berlin
^ CJ afer his massage
(CJ took over where DeeDee left off in the band)
It was great to see them all again, especially Joey. After the show, he wanted me to come back
to the hotel with them in the van, as it was a bit far from the gig. Johnny complained that only the band
should go in the van, because it was too full. Joey told Johnny to shut up and put me on his
lap and off we went to the hotel. You could have cut the tension with a knife.
We all got into the lobby, and everyone wanted to rush to their rooms for a
shower. I told Joey I would meet him in the bar, but as soon as I got out of
the elevator on the second floor the other elevator opened and Joey came out,
as if he was in a hurry. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he
would clean up later and that we should sit and chat in the bar now.(this
melted my heart). So we sat together for a while. All the Germans were
staring, of course, because Joey looks really unique. So he suggested we drink
up and just go to his room.
I thought it was so sweet that he hurried to meet me, and now he wanted to
talk in private. Up in his room, Joey told me he was dating someone, but he
still kept being incredibly sentimental with me. I massaged his feet and he
played a cassette for me that his voice coach had made for him to practice
while on the road. He did all these vocal exercises for me (just like old
times!). It was awesome, and once again I felt privileged to still be so close
to Joey after all these years.
Right before Joey died, he would email me and tell me how he was doing. I told
him I was writing a book and I wanted him to read the Ramones chapters I wrote. It
took him ages but finally he read it all and wrote back to me “not bad, but take it
easy on Johnny ok Dot?” I was floored. My orignial material really was brutal, as in,
I spoke my mind and mentioned how basically everyone felt about Johnny but I edited it as Joey
wished and was nicer to Johnny (MEOW!) . That just shows you what kind of man Joey was.
If you you know anything about the Ramones, you would know that Joey should have been
the last person to request that someone be nicer to Johnny (Johnny famously stole Joey’slong time Girlfriend from him,
(thank God othewise I wouldn’t have been with Joey)
^ Mr. Grump (Johnny) in Providence, R.I, doing the doughnut thing.
My next “close encounter of the Ramones kind” was in the summer of 1998, when
DeeDee called me from New York, asking if he could come and stay with me for a
while, and maybe his wife would come, too. He told me some really long stories
about the weird hotel he was living at in Manhattan.
He said he wrote a book and he was doing art, but he really wanted to come to
Berlin. DeeDee grew up in Berlin. His mother is German, and his father was a
US soldier. He wanted to resurrect his music career. He was really into rap
now, and he asked me to find some German rappers who would like him to rap
DeeDee’s wife Barbara is from Buenos Aires. She was 19 at the time, and only
14 when they got married. After a Ramones gig in Buenes Aires, Barbara, who
couldn’t speak any English at the time, asked DeeDee for an autograph. DeeDee
can’t speak any Spanish, but somehow they fell in love, and now they’re a
I picked them up from the Berlin airport in my little Volkswagen, and I
couldn’t believe how DeeDee looked. He was incredibly skinny, and his head was
almost shaved, and the hair that was there was gray.
Dee-Dee and Barbara coloring in my living room ^
Barbara is a cutie. She looks more like a Ramone than Dee Dee did sometimes. She has that original
Ramones haircut. Black hair with long bangs. A pageboy cut, you know? Like the
Beatles had. And she has the same exact tattoos that DeeDee has, on her
forearms. It’s a row of five skulls going from the elbow to the wrist, on the
underside of the forearm. So I figured it must be true love.
I have already learned my lesson about having stars as guests in my house. The
first thing you do after you pick them up is take them grocery shopping.
Otherwise you’ll be sorry. So we went to the grocery store and it was
hilarious. Just imagine DeeDee, super jet-lagged, talking my ear off up and
down the supermarket aisles. They bought mostly junk food, noodles and coffee.
No health food. Probably to keep up the Ramones tradition.
Next on the agenda: where can I get DeeDee some weed? Naturally they can’t
bring their own, and it’s legal in Germany. But grass is hard to find. Hash is
everywhere, but he wanted grass. I didn’t know many people who smoke; only one
friend I know smokes regularly, but he won’t sell it. He will smoke with
people, but doesn’t want to deal it.
I tried to explain this to DeeDee, and he got increasingly angry. So I brought
him and Barbara over to my friend’s house, and my friend laid out a hell of a
lot of hash and grass and we all sat around chatting. I explained to DeeDee
that it’s not cool to just show up, smoke and leave. That he has to get to
know the guy and have a nice chat. And then they can smoke together.
They looked at a lot of old German antiques that this guy had, and books,
photos. But you could see it in DeeDee’s eyes how impatient he was getting.
He wasn’t used to not being in control, and I couldn’t help him out in this
situation. I simply don’t hang out with potheads here.
Finally they smoked and DeeDee loved it and he asked if he could buy some. He
wanted a lot, but the guy said no. But he gave DeeDee some to take with him
anyway. The amount he gave him was generous, but it didn’t last long.
Then DeeDee started bothering me constantly about grass. I was getting
annoyed. I was giving them a free place to stay and taking them sightseeing
and getting him press galore, so I felt he should be more grateful.
It was easy for me to get DeeDee Press attention, because I am already famous
in Germany. I had my book, and I was appearing on every German TV show
possible. So the press is happy when they have a new story with me.
One of Germany’s most popular TV stations (like ABC, or NBC) is called SAT1.
The have an evening show similar to Entertainment Tonight called Blitz. They
came to my house and interviewed us while I was massaging DeeDee.
He can speak a little bit of German, and I helped him along when he was stumped.
It was hilarious.
They filmed us for four and a half hours, although they only showed eight
minutes on TV. That’s typical with TV. Even though they had hours of footage,
they chose not to edit out DeeDee trying desperately to put his T-shirt back
on. He thought he was stuffing his head through the hole for the head, and he
was trying to stuff his head through the arm hole. It was frickin hilarious to
see DeeDee with his head stuck in such a tiny hole.
I still have this interview on video. So we helped each other out to get
publicity, and I am still grateful. There was a constant stream of journalists
in and out of my apartment the whole week DeeDee was there, and his photo was
in every Berlin magazine. The press didn’t know before that DeeDee was from
Apart from interviews, searching for pot and staying up all night smoking on
my balcony, DeeDee and Barbara spent a lot of time playing with my daughter.
She loved DeeDee and Barbara, because they were like kids, too. They
especially liked to color with her.
DeeDee would draw all these crazy things for her and she loved the way he
talks. He would say the funniest things like, ”I can’t believe she (Barbara)
likes me. Look at me! I’m ugly!” And he would say it in such a childish voice.
Sometimes even today, my daughter tells me to ” talk like DeeDee.”
DeeDee grew up in Berlin, and he was bored out of his mind in New York, so he
came up with the idea that we should swap apartments for a year. I was
actually thinking about it for a minute.
Me massaging DeeDee in my Berliner flat (1997?)
I like DeeDee, but I think the music business has made him a bit eccentric to
say the least. He has mood swings like New England’s weather changes! He told
me he wrote two books, but couldn’t afford an editor, so the books are printed
unedited, with a shit-load of mistakes. I find this unique, and typical
All in all, DeeDee has a good heart. While he was in Berlin, Arturo called. He
was also in Berlin, with the Misfits, a punk group from NYC. Arturo was doing
the same for them that he did for the Ramones: a little bit of everything.
Lights, sound, merchandising, graphic designs for the merchandise, etc.
Arturo invited us all to the Misfits gig, in a club here called SO36. It was
small and trashy looking; a punk club. The Misfits know DeeDee already, and
invited him on stage at the gig to sing a few Ramones songs. The crowd went
Barb and Dee-Dee at Misfits gig ^
^ Doyle getting a rub down in Berlin from my healing hands
The Misfits liked me very much. Jerry, the bassist, and Doyle the guitarist both asked me to massage them after the gig.
Jerry was extremely sweet to me, and told me I could come on the rest of the tour if I wanted, but
The Misfits line up has changed a lot since then. They had Marky Ramones on drums for a while…
Well, anyway it was great to have another round of Ramones, no matter how
strenuous it was. “We’re a happy family!”
I asked Monte why I wasn’t mentioned in his book “On the Road with the Ramones”
and he said it was because I was so young when I dated Joey, that it could make Joey look bad. But
it was my fault, I never told Joey my real age…
I still see Monte sometimes when I go to Arturo’s house. Arturo is one of my
favorite people, no one on earth is as dedicated to the Ramones legacy as he
is. He has a lovely dog named Diesel who I could just eat alive, he is so
sweet! He is a boxer and is getting a bit old now but still wags his nub every time I come over.
^ Arturo Vega and I at one of his Art shows at the Niagra bar
^ Arturo’s tatttoo. He replaced Marky’s name with his own..ouch.
Little fact not all Ramones fans know, Johnny’s ex wife is busy suing everyone she can. She has sued Vera, Arturo, Marky, Mickey (Joeys brother) and everyone else she can as she just can’t stand it unless she has ALL of the control over the Ramones legacy. Pathetic.She wants EVERY SINGLE penny. She tried to prevent Vera from telling her own story in her book ‘Poisoned Heart’ even though the book had NOTHING to do with Linda or Johnny. She made Vera’s life HELL and cost her thousands of dollars in lawyer fees. Tsk tsk. Linda wants to own the Ramones logo, all the song rights, get all the royalties etc. So sad. She runs around dressing in the nasties clothes EVER (fur, micro mini skirts (isn’t she 60 years old now?). Karma, where are you?