WWW.NYPRESS.COM | OCTOBER 5, 2005
DR. DOT
NEWS & COLUMNS
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New York Press is thrilled in every sense to introduce Dr. Dot, our new sex advice columnist. We sat down with her last week and asked her to tell us a bit about herself. Once you’ve read this, swing on over to page 39 to get a feel for the doctor’s orders.
I was 15 when I massaged my first rock stars.
My girlfriends and I wanted to meet rock stars and since you don’t have much money at that age, we went to the concert hall at noon and decided we’d offer massages in exchange for entrance. Not a good plan, but somehow it worked—Def Leppard guitarist Phil Collen happened to be walking across the parking lot because someone stole the band’s clothes the night before. Holy fuck—that guy’s in the band. We went shopping with him all day.
We didn’t have tickets, but I give the meanest back massage in the world. And that’s how it started. Stars are used to getting things for free. So I massaged them for free for nine years.
I was born Dorothy but have always been called Dot. I’d been massaging my family—walking on their backs and biting—since I was five. I got my doctorate from Frank Zappa on his 1988 Hard Way tour, when I was massaging—for free I might add. Him and his whole band. The name Dr. Dot just stuck.
I didn’t think that was going to be my career—that was just a hobby. I wanted to be a writer and photographer. But I was giving massages and I had all-access passes to catering and other shit. I was never thinking, oh these fuckers got to pay me. It was more—wow I get to touch my heroes. This is great.
Sting has to be one of my favorite rock stars to massage. He’s so generous and mellow and cool and fun. I mean I massage him more than any other star. I’ve been to his house and massaged his wife too.
And of course Zappa. Favorite. Period. And he’s my favorite musician. Massaging Frank, I felt like paying him. Frank was hilarious but serious. A workaholic, and very much into audience participation. My burps can be heard on the “best band you’ve NEVER heard in your life,” a CD of the ’88 tour. I burped at the sound check, and he asked me to do it on the sample and used it making fun of the evangelists.
Courtney Love is really edgy. I never like to say anything really bad about anyone, so we’ll just say that she sticks in my mind as one of the most exciting massages. She’s not acting. When you see her on TV that’s really what she’s like.
Joey Ramone was my first boyfriend ever. I was 15 and went out with him for three years. Then I turned into a deadhead and moved on. He was the sweetest guy on Earth and didn’t talk much. But everything he said was sarcastic and hilarious. The best kisser on Earth. He didn’t know how young I was.
I was 15 but told him I was 19 like all young girls do. And nobody thought I was 15 with jugs like that. He was 29 at the time, so…
In 1994, I massaged the Rolling Stones up in Toronto where they rehearse every tour. Chairle Watts said, “How much do I owe you?”
“Are you kidding me? No Charlie, you’re doing me a favor by letting me massage you,” I told him.
He told me with his British accent, “Dot, no one is going to take you seriously unless you ask them to pay you money for your mah-ssage.” And that was my first paying customer. He paid me $200 Canadian dollars and then they hired me for the next two Stones tours.
Now, I charge everyone. A massage starts at $100 an hour if they come to me, $150 if I go to them. $200 after 10 p.m. But it’s not as expensive as people think. The St. Regis Hotel charges $250 an hour.
If someone like Britney Spears is paying $3000 for a fucking haircut, then my massage is not that expensive. And it’s worth it. I kick people’s ass. I don’t pet people. If you’re looking for a relaxing massage go somewhere else. I kick some real fucking ass.
Volume 18, Issue 40
© 2005 New York Press