Dr. Dot's Blog

You know I am here in Mass, Wakefield to be exact, visiting Betsy (my Mom type friend) and waiting to massage Kiss today (Thursday) and Friday, that is, if they don’t cancel last minute like some rock stars do, because, well, they are rock stars dammit and can do what they want when they want to.

Anyhow, last night proved to me that MASS is much more uptight then CT, and here I was thinking that CT has Nazi’s as cops, you know, following you around while you drive, making you nervous until you do something wrong, then they pull you over and give you a ticket. I thought NO cops can be more uptight than CT cops, they are power hungry, control freak Nazi wanna be muther fuckers. Honest, if you don’t believe me, ask the folks who live there. At least they let me slide with my German drives license, but NOT in MASS.

 I tired to go out Tuesday night to a SHIT hole in Malden MASS called Rain to do karaoke and you would think since it was raining its ASS off and there were only 5 people in the whole place, including the wanker bouncer type dude who called himself Jimmy, they would WANT people to come in and buy some drinks, but they made it so hard and scoffed at my German Drivers License and told me they don’t except such ID (hey, I know I look young, but come ON I definitely look older than 21) BUT no, even though I had a wallet full of other ID (none with a photo on it) and many credit cards that prove who I am (well, that match the name on my German License) he was flexing his power muscle and refused to let me in.I drove over 40 minutes to get there in the pouring rain and he was set on being prick of the evening. That has nothing to do with the cop behavior, I know, but he was acting worse then a cop.

 Jasmine and I were cruising around Wakefield and the surrounding towns looking for something to do on Monday night, and the local cops were following us, wondering what we were doing/looking for. Maybe it is the bumper sticker on the back of my car that pisses the cops off (?) It reads ‘Ass, Gas or Grass, no one rides for free” then next to it is another sticker of Homer Simpson, mooning you and pointing at his bare ass, as in, KISS MY ASS (he has that expression on his face,hard to explain). But, Jasmine and I did discover, this Pilgrim type white bread area closes down at 10 p.m. sharp, the ONLY thing open within a 45 minute drive is a 7/11 (for those of you who don’t know what a 7/11 is, it is a shop that NEVER closes, and I mean, NEVER and they are ALL over the US and always operated by men from India, Bangladesh or any of those surrounding countries, hence the accent of the one running the Kwiki mart in the Simpsons).

Anyhow, this is a NO fringe blog week, no fancy colors, no photos, no links, it is the bare blog, as I have to write it on a MAC and the usual options are not visible on Betsy’s MAC 🙁 So, tonight, I experienced a bit of Heaven on earth. I searched online for a Massage Therapist in this area and found an angel. Her name is Chris and she runs her own spa type clinic near here and I proposed to her the idea of joining the Dr. Dot army }:) We made an appointment and I went to her and she gave me a rub down. She is an angel, so strong and naturally pretty. She painted her clinic all on her own, decorated it herself too and it smells lovely, looks cozy and clean and very professional. Her team is extremely educated and talented too. I hired her and she will be on our site as soon as I get back to civilization where I can download my new photos and blog normally again (say, next Tuesday probably).Until then, you can check out her web site at: www.essentialbodyworkandmassage.com of course you have to copy and paste it into your browser as I can not do the fancy link adding with my basic, naked blog features on the MAC 🙁

 After a nice long chat and getting to know each-other, we were amazed at how many things we have in common and it felt meant to be, she told me she was ready to try to get her hands on stars again, as she used to work in a Hotel in Boston and did get to massage some stars there, like Motley Crue, Jamiroquai and many famous athletes and play writes. Since she has been busy they last fews years with her Spa, she hasn’t had the time or contacts like she used to, so it was strange that I contacted her, as she said that is exactly what she wanted.

I left and headed south on I 95 to a town called Canton, MASS. I found out about a place online that has karaoke on Wednesday nights. It is called T K O’Sheas on Neponset street. It was like walking onto the set of the Wedding Singer (didn’t you see that movie yet?) The few chicks in there all had this perm gone wrong and acid washed jeans, deep evil tan that has left their skin looking like beef jerky. The female DJ had it out for me right away (did you expect anything else?) She looked like the woman in “Something about Mary” who shows her tits, you know, the loud neighbor lady who is so brown from tanning? I dressed WAY DOWN as not to ruffle any feathers/egos, I know better. I wore army pants and a light purple sweater with ‘don’t shag me sandals’ and a jean jacket.

 Still, she made me wait AGES to get to the mic and I did my best version of Bobby McGee to test the waters. I noticed she didn’t like me when she CRANKED the echo effect which made it sound like I sang every word twice. The sound system sucked anyways, even the amp in my car could blow her system away. Anyhow, I noticed most men sang two times each then it was finally (90 minutes later) my turn again and I belted out Black Dog (Led Zepp) which was drowned out by the Dj chatting loudly to a bunch of Metro Sexual Yuppies who has strolled in just as I started the song. These guys had the same eyebrows as Sharon Stone had in Basic Instinct. Honest. Each one of them sang a Billy Joel song which only made me despise them more. I am starting to hate Bon Jovi, Billy Joel, Sinatra and Bruce Springsteen’s tunes because of OVERPLAY in karaoke clubs. In NYC, every fuck thinks they should do one of the four aforementioned groups because they are in the NYC/NJ area. Karaoke clubs and bars play these groups over and over and OVER again, it almost makes you sea sick.

Back to the Hell part of this blog.No, it wasn’t the old permed-like-your-mama’s-nasty-poodle DJ wench, it gets worse. The bar is shaped like a doughnut so you can see everyone and vice versa. I noticed trouble brewing and was praying to GOD to let it start AFTER my next song as I waited another HOUR to sing and I was sure I would be next ( I was almost ready to bribe the bitch, but since I blew $260 the other night doing just that, I behaved). Suddenly two fat guys started yelling at each-other (note, most are fat as there isn’t much else to do except eat and fuck, and like Chris Rock says, after the fucking frenzy cools down, you just eat anyways, so don’t get married!). The two hot heads (who reminded me of two horny roosters fighting over a hen in heat) started pushing each-other and swinging at each-other and YELLING really loud while some guy was still trying to sing and suddenly one of them takes a bottle and SMASHES it right in the other hot heads FACE making him bleed ridiculous amounts of blood, which of course started a mini war in the bar amongst all the alcohol/testosterone loaded males. It was a loud blood bath and even a woman got beat (accidentally) hard.

The music stopped, everyone who was sane called the cops, but still the fight went on and on, and it even tried to spread to guys who were just sitting at the bar, seems like once a fight is on, it is like a tornado that wants to suck everyone into it. It was horrible. Almost everyone in there had blood on them, be it their face, body and or clothing. Nasty! The frizzy gum snapping Dj was busy packing her equipment away, using this as an excuse to stop early, she looked almost relieved. ( I suggested to the guy next to me to sing either “everybody was kung fu fighting” or “give peace a chance” but the bitchy poodle wasn’t going for it. I went outside after I saw 8 cop cars, an ambulance AND of course, in America no fight in complete without a GIANT fire truck. I didn’t understand what they were doing there, perhaps to hose down the hot heads? I think since 9/11 American firemen like to cash in on that “firemen are hero’s” thing and hope some hot babe notices them in their sexy uniforms, hence, increasing their chances to get some trim. I asked one of the cops outside (who ALSO had the same Sharon Stone shaped eyebrows, which leads me to believe, in Canton, there must be some smoking hot chick who runs a waxing salon and the guys just can’t seem to stay away from her and let her have her way with her hot wax). I asked him “do people still fight in bars?” he said “yes maam” and I said “that is SO 80’s” and then told him my car was blocked in by two cop cars and I GOTTA GO.

I left that huge mess, happy it wasn’t me for a change in the middle of it. At least I had some excitement tonight, as to say I get bored easily is a massive understatement. I will have to resort to eating Ben and Jerry’s again as there is no sex or chocolate around for me. Notice one year ago, in my August 2003 blog,I was also here in Wakefield, with the same shit going on. No sex, just ice cream! You can also shoot back to that time in my blog to see photos of Wakefield, it may be a tad dull, but it is one of the most beautiful towns around.

I was told recently there are many ghost around, which is just grand, me having mighty sleeping disorder(s)- I can now find many more reasons NOT to sleep. Great. “Oh, but they are FRIENDLY ghosts” nice one, but will they watch when I view my “adult” dvd later? FYI, the expect you to drive 55 miles per hour here on the highway.

 As LAME as that song is, I have to quote Sammy: Gonna write me up for 125 Post my face wanted dead or alive Take my license, all that jive I can’t drive 55!

           

This GORGEOUS creature above left is SPICE, she is from Greek decent 🙂  and my all time favorite animal. I got her in 1998. She is so peaceful and calm, so polite how she takes the leaves gently from your hand and she even comes to me (as quickly as she can) when I call her name!

She has huge eyes,which you can’t see, sadly, in these photos. The turtle tattoo I got on my ankle was drawn from a photo of Spice. (I am having it covered with a flower as no one can tell it is a turtle and I am tired of explaining it is Spice from a front view).

The second photo is Spice on the left and SUGAR on the right. I got Sugar a few months before Spice. No one can tell if Sugar is male or female yet! I think she is a girl, as she hisses and acts bitchy. She always looks grumpy and if she could say “talk to the hand” she would. Sugar is of Afganistan decent, the tiny little Arab!

 I adore them SO MUCH. They are the ONLY things in the world that can calm me down. Watching them eat and walk around makes me relax. I wish I could have them with me all the time, but it wouldn’t be possible or fair. The breeder I bought them from , I call him, Mr. Turtle, watches them for me until I settle down. He lives in Berlin in a HUGE house and has a giant Turtle farm. He has over 70 turtles and does sell them, but he makes you sign papers and they cost A LOT. He is a BIG turlte fan and doesn’t just breed them to make money. He is a real estate broker and is rolling in dough, he just does the turtle thing as a hobby.

He has had some of his turtles for 35 years! They live to be over 100 years old so even if I pick my babies up in 5 years, it’s cool. I visit them most every time I go to Berlin and he sends me photos of them. They are an endangered animals so you can’t just drag them around with you from country to country. I miss my babies 
    
  

  I had another one, Pepper, who recently passed away. He was given to me a couple years ago, a Polish turtle. Mr. Turtle told me he died of HERPES! I was like “what? Did he have unsafe sex or what? How does a turtle get herpes!?” Apparently, it is a virus that strikes animals too, not through sex though and Pepper passed away. RIP Pepper 🙁  
  

   
  

  

 My massage assistants are all smiles lately. I have sent them to massage Sting and sometimes to massages Eric Claptons band too. Getting paid to rub someone as handsome as Sting seems almost unfair. They are in disbelief. How can work be so dam fun?

 

Yesterday, I met up with Felicia (who is 5 years older than me but used to babysit me when I was 5 in Ellington)  and my half sister Shannon (we found out in 1994 we have the same biological Father named Salvatore Giacomini- long story)  in Vernon, CT and we all piled frantically into Felicia’s monster of a SUV (that means BIG gas guzzling jeep for those of you who aren’t from the US) and sped off to Mohegan Sun where Sting was awaiting my massage. Felicia was coming along with her table to rub down the rest of the band, who sometimes don’t get a massage cause Sting is bogarting the massage therapist.

 

Shannon came along, well, to look sweet and parade around in a white Dr. Dot T-shirt and have fun. This was her second concert in her life so far, first one being Tom Petty (nice choice!) a few years ago.

 

Privately, I am usually 30 minutes late. When it comes to business, I am on time. This time, I beat Sting to the venue. Due to heavy rain, his private plane had to circle around for an hour before landing! Must have been frustrating as he only flew from Manhattan to CT.

 

Anyhow, everyone was still in a great mood even though there was a delay. Sting and the band went directly to the stage to do the sound check. Us gals sat front and center for the sound check and it was mind blowing. For me, the sound check is always better than the show; you get to see the real stuff! William (scroll back a few days if you don’t know who William is by now) comes on stage during a song and puts Stings coffee down on a monitor for him. Kipper, the keyboardist does most of the singing during sound check, I assume it is to let Sting save his voice for the show. Kipper actually sounds like Sting when he sings anyways. He has produced Stings last two albums, the guy is multi talented.

Above: William on stage during sound check chatting with Dominic.That is Kipper at the right.

 

 

Dominic nodded and smiled when he saw me sitting there with the girls, then Sting saw me and gave me a friendly grin. My sister and Felicia were so ecstatic while all this was going on. When the music stopped, Dominic yelled, “Dot, I owe you money!” from the stage.

Let us remember this as the FIRST (and probably last) time a rock musician 1) Remembers he owes you money 2) Admits he owes you money 3) PAYS you the money he owes you without being hounded or threatened!

 

I actually could NOT believe my ears. What a sweet heart! I massaged him last week (as you read) and he was short $40 (hey, most rock stars don’t even carry cash on them at all) so he said he would pay me next time he saw me. A man who keeps his word. Nice one!

 

He jumped off the stage and came up to me with a $50 bill and just said, “Keep the change Dot.” He is so cool; wearing white leather Birkenstock open-toed sandals everywhere he goes. He is so relaxed and friendly.  

Above: Shannon and Felicia during sound check. At right, Sting during sound check.

 

The girls were glued to Rhani when they met him (Stings percussionist). They both find him erotic and sexy and cute and all that. I massaged Sting for almost 2 hours and at the same time Felicia was in another room massaging Dominic and Kipper, then the soundman, Jim.

Shannon was lured into the bands dressing room and was sipping $300 bottle champagne with them. She is so innocent and sweet (rated G version of me) and the lads were pleased to meet her.

Her eyes were so wide open and somehow like a deer caught in headlights the whole night, like “WOW! I am backstage at Sting and talking to Sting!” She didn’t talk much, just looked very happy. I introduced her to Sting after his massage and she was blushing her ass off.  

My sister Shannon, blushing with Sir Sting

I had things to do and left her there chatting with him, she was glowing all night and talking about how polite and friendly he is and “the accent” got to her. Most of the management and crew have British accents; it is heaven to hear the banter backstage.

While Felicia was still massaging, Shannon and I sat in our seats (8th row center from the stage) and watched Annie Lennox do her stuff. She ROCKED! Her voice is like an angel and she moves like a cat, she is confident, cool, unique, fucking AMAZING. You know me, attention span like a fruit fly who drank too much coffee, but I sat there with my mouth wide open and watched this woman show how it is supposed to be done.

 

I could write a whole blog about how impressed I was with her, but I will spare you. She is fit, strong and still gorgeous. He voice blows Mariah Carey off the map. After her one-hour show, I asked Sting to introduce me to her, so he did and he told her “Dot has been massaging me for years Annie, she is the best!” What an intro! Annie’s accent is SO charming (born in Aberdeen, Scotland). Amazing that you can’t hear any of her accent when she sings, but when she speaks, it is a heavy accent (I get Goosebumps listening to her talk).

 

I told her in every way possible (without sounding obsessed) how much I enjoyed her performance and that I hope to massage her soon. She told her assistant to take my number down, so cross your fingers for me will ya? 

 

  Annie and I   ^

 

 “There are two kinds of artists left: those who endorse Pepsi and those who simply won’t.”
-Annie Lennox

 

Sting, Rhani and Annie chat before show ^

 

Ok, prepare for one of the dumbest things ever said backstage. I was all aglow, near the part of the backstage where the band goes out onto the stage, observing the ritual they do before they walk out there, be it praying, shaking their hands in the air, holding hands or what have you.

Annie and Sting were chatting, all the back up singers were chatting, the band was ready to walk out there, as Sting and Annie do a song together and everyone was excited. Felicia walks up to me and I whispered, “Oh GOD, I just met Annie Lennox, I am so fucking excited, she is so amazing, look at her!” Felicia looks over and says to me “Hey, she looks just like the singer of the Eurythmics!” . The look I gave her was priceless. I said “Do NOT say that again, that IS her!” Fucking HELL! I thank you LORD that Annie, or anyone else, didn’t heard that blurt out of musical ignorance. Thank you LORD.

 

Sting and my massage assistant Felicia ^

 

But then again, Felicia shouldn’t know any of her music; she is a HARD CORE Bon Jovi fanatic. End of Story.

 

We then watched half of Stings show and said good-bye to William and were on our way before the traffic jam. The ladies were more than grateful and were bouncing off the walls on the way back to Vernon. I even got my pal Laurie an autographed Sting photo for her living room wall. It is so rewarding keeping the faith and lending a hand when it can make someone so happy.

 

Sting rips up the stage ^  My camera can not make such great photos from a distance.

 

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Sting: “If I ever lose my faith in you” :

 

 

You could say I lost my faith in science and progress
You could say I lost my belief in the holy church
You could say I lost my sense of direction
You could say all of this and worse but

If I ever lose my faith in you
There’d be nothing left for me to do

Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world
You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV
You could say I’d lost my belief in our politicians
They all seemed like game show hosts to me

If I ever lose my faith in you
There’d be nothing left for me to do

I could be lost inside their lies without a trace
But every time I close my eyes I see your face

I never saw no miracle of science
That didn’t go from a blessing to a curse
I never saw no military solution
That didn’t always end up as something worse but
Let me say this first

If I ever lose my faith in you
There’d be nothing left for me to do

 

 

Dr.

 

 

 

Dear Dr. Dot, I am going to get a massage next week, my first ever. How should I prepare? What do I wear? What happens if I get a stiffy during the massage? Frank M., East Rutherford, NJ Dear Frank, Always shower before you head to your massage appointment. If you can’t, buy some baby wipes and wipe down the most offensive areas. You can relax knowing you aren’t fuming, and the therapist won’t be scorning you in their mind the whole time. Don’t eat a big meal directly before the rub down. You will feel like you are laying on a rock and your belly will be making embarrassing noises if you do.  Since it is your dime, you should wear whatever you want during the massage. Most therapists have seen it all and won’t be bothered either way. Boxers will hold down your stiffy if you get excited, but you can also hold “him” down by asking the therapist to give you extra towels to drape around your pelvis area (tell them you get cold easily). NOTE: Don’t mention your stiff if you get one. It is just one of those things that happens, breath deep and let it go.  Remove all jewelry and your watch. Your hair will look like hell after, so if you have somewhere nice to go after, warn them to avoid your whole head. If you don’t have them do your scalp, it is worth looking like Don King afterwards.  Don’t talk during your massage, unless you need to ask for more or less pressure or inform the therapist about an injury. Talking is counterproductive and makes the time fly very fast. It also distracts the therapist and you won’t get the best results if they have to keep chatting to you. If they won’t shut up, do find the courage to say “I would prefer to enjoy this massage in silence”.  It is your time and money and you should speak up if something is bothering you (you want music, or silence; the room is too cold/hot). The squeaky wheel gets the oil. Ok, time to explain the photos above. On the left, Johnny K.  who looks EXACTLY like Marky Mark (Mark Wahlberg) me, and Jonesy. They are both from Boston and we met a couple weeks ago in Iggys (karaoke bar in NYC) and they were admiring my Led Zepp tunes and I was covered in serious goose bumps when Jonesy belted out “Me and Mrs. Jones“. Holy Shit he can sing. He had the girls all hot and sweaty, screaming and feeling faint. Amazing that tiny white cracker can sing like a big black man. And he performs the song, you know, gets into it, acting it out which is the whipped cream on the cake. Hate it when folks just stand there and sing, you gotta FEEL the song. Check out Jonesy’s web site . He does stand up comedy and in my opinion will make it BIG soon. He is a force heading towards the big screen- mark my words. Then the other photo is of my good pal Seth (was the singer of Mensch, now an actor) me and again, Jonesy. When these guys do karaoke, it is a spectacle; they take over the joint and can rap, rock and sing a love song that brings tears to the ladies eyes. It is not only raining men at that point, it’s raining talented men. I heard there is a big photo of Sting and I in the Hartford Courant today, I hope 7/11 has a copy left for me 🙁

I find the obsession with feet rather interesting. It is harmless but odd. My web master, Nobbi took THIS photo of my feet last time I was in Berlin.

In my experience, if a girl is well grommed in the feet area, she is also well groomed in the important areas and vice versa.Take care of those dogs ladies.

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) Lyrics

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and GRAY,
Look out on a summer’s day ,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul,
Shadows on the hills ,
Sketch the trees and daffodils ,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In COLORS on the snowy linen land,

Now I understand ,
What you tried to say to me ,
And how you suffered for your sanity ,
And how you tried to set them free ,
They would not listen ,
They did not know how ,
Perhaps they’ll listen now ,

Starry, starry night ,
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze ,
Swirling clouds and violet haze ,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue ,
COLORS changing hue ,
Morning fields of amber grain ,
Weathered faces lined in pain ,
Are soothed beneath the artists’ loving hand,

Now I understand ,
What you tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity,
And how you tried to set them free ,
They would not listen ,
They did not know how ,
Perhaps they’ll listen now ,

For they could not love you ,
But still your love was true ,
And when no hope was left inside ,
On that starry, starry night ,
You took your life as lovers often do ,
But I could have told you Vincent ,
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you ,

*Starry starry night,
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless heads on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.*
Like the strangers that you’ve met ,
The ragged men in ragged clothes ,
The silver thorn of bloody rose ,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow ,

Now I think I know ,
What you tried to say to me ,
And how you suffered for your sanity ,
And how you tried to set them free ,
They would not listen ,
They’re not listening still ,
Perhaps they never will…,

 

So, freezing my breast off in the COLD Berliner sun was in vain, they in fact could have made me into a cartoon without me even being there, or not?

I am grateful, don’t get me wrong, for my second cover of the EXBERLINER magazine, I just like to complain, especially at 6:30 am when there is no sex or chocolate to be had.You have so been there so don’t even try it.

My assistant Stephanie and Joy are so dam happy that they were sent to massage Sir Sting when I couldn’t be there; they are rantin’ and ravin’ about his fit figure. We love Sting.

Gotta sleep

xx Dottie 

On my recent trip to Berlin, I tested out a Massage Therapist named Gunda. She has been eager to join our team for quite some time now. Gunda came to me and gave me a 2 hour massage and showed me all of her amazing credentials. She is German but lived in Australia for a couple years, so her English is very good. She is a tough girl with a rockin’ sense of humor, perfect for our team.

Gunda is also punctual and clean, and EXTREMELY organized. I thought she MUST be a Virgo, but she isn’t. If you or your artist/entourage are heading to Berlin, let me know and I will send her your way. Her photo is in the body of this email.

 Once again, thank you for your time,

Dr. Dot

                           

My name is Gunda    born on 13th april 1978 in northern Germany. Like Doctor Dot I started to give massage as a kid, walking on my mothers back. As I moved to Berlin, age 20, I began to study natural medicine. I really got into massage then. Learning Shiatzu, Tui Na, swedish massage and later on Hawaiian LomiLomi.

   Reading a lot about oriental philosophies I got interested in Martial Arts. I do Aikido, which is a good way to learn more about your body and natural movement. In 2003 I opened up a massage institute with a female colleague. I give massage in a premium fitness club and assist my teacher in training Tui Na massage. I am doing qualifications to become a health practioner(GPA)this year.

   When a friend told me about Doctor Dot I looked up her website and contacted her straight away. Just a couple of days later I got an answer and we made an appointment. I gave her a two hour massage and it impressed her very much. I am now under contract with Dr. Dot. We got on very well and she said she likes my style. So here I am, part of the Doctor Dot Team!

I drove like wild fire to Camden (shit hole) NJ to get to Sir Sting on time. I made it in two hours flat and I was a minute early. Gorgeous weather and lots of smiles surrounded the Tweeter Center, which must be directly on the border of Philly, PA and Camden, NJ.

This was the first show of the summer tour in which –     

–  Annie Lennox would be opening for Sting and somewhere during the show they do one or two songs together. I massaged Sting for almost 2 hours before the show. He is in GREAT spirits, calm, happy and incredibly healthy looking. He even feels healthy. His hair is getting long he looks amazing. He said that “Trudie loved you” to me, which is always nice to hear.

My all time favorite Tour Manager, hands down, William Francis was in good spirits too,

even carried my super heavy massage table for me  

William has the sharpest sense of humor going, he makes me laugh with his cheeky comments

 and British sense of humor, which makes my work heaven on earth. Most wouldn’t understand me when I say, that it is not only the artist/stars that make my job so fun, but it is the people like William and Alan Dunn (Stones) etc etc, that are like family for me. Sure, we have tiny fights like everyone does, but it only strengthens the bond. You DO NOT want to make William mad, he is a fire cracker, but so I am, it is somehow funny if we have a “word”. Also, I have something in common with the people who dedicate their lives to the music biz, they are always on the road, living out of suitcases, will drop everything for the artist and the love of music, you have to love music in order dedicate yourself properly. It’s the Rock and Roll family. I feel at home backstage, like it’s my habitat or something! I love how it operates so smoothly and all (and the catering or course).

It has taken me years to learn the vibe of backstage, to know how to stay out of the way, or be there exactly when needed. You have to know the rules and respect the scene. You have to know when is the time to ask for an autograph and when not to even think about it. Call it Backstage Awareness if you will. I massaged Stings Percussionist after I massaged Sting, his name is Rhani Krija.  He is from Morocco, but was raised in France and went to school for a long time in Germany. So we spoke German together the whole time, in fact, as soon as he found out I spoke German, he wouldn’t speak English anymore. Very strong dude, and super cool. Then after a while, the one and only Dominic Miller, Stings guitarist who gets to open the show with a show of his own, broke out his guitar and started warming up  

 Dominic is charming, deep, intelligent and very attractive. Somehow he reminds me of how Mick Jagger used to look in the Seventies. Hot.

“Dominic Miller was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1960. He spent his boyhood in Argentina, moving to Racine, Wisconsin in 1970. He started to learn guitar at the age of 15, and later studied with Sabastio Tapajos and at London’s Guildhall School of Music where his contemporaries included violinist Nigel Kennedy and Mike Lindup of Level 42. He met producer Hugh Padgham in 1989, which led to him playing on Phil Collins’ But Seriously album and then Sting’s The Soul Cages album in 1991. Dominic has since worked with Sting on every album and tour since 1991, and Sting describes him as being “my right hand and my left hand.”

I will massage Dominic on Wednesday and I do hope I get to massage Annie someday soon, I ADORE that woman, but don’t we all?

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)                                          
Annie Lennox

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world
And the seven seas
Everybody’s looking for something.

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused.

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Even after 6 hours of driving and 3 hours of massage, I was still on the ball. Eric Clapton’s manager wanted a massage, so I went to his rescue. I have known Mick for years. He is wicked funny and should have been in Monty Pythons Flying circus, he looks and acts the part. He said Eric is in top form and in a SUPER good mood AND is playing better than he ever has. So, if you are on your way to one of the Clapton shows, you are sure to be pleased. He told me that Billy Preston will be joining the band up in Boston, that will be DYNAMITE!

In NYC, it is raining music, and I say, let it rain, let it rain.

“The rain is falling through the mist of sorrow that surrounded me.
The sun could never thaw away the the bliss that lays around me.

  Let it rain, let it rain,
  Let your love rain down on me.
  Let it rain, let it rain,
  Let it rain, rain, rain.

Her life was like a desert flower burning in the sun.
Until I found the way to love, it’s harder said than done.

  Chorus

Now I know the secret; there is nothing that I lack.
If I give my love to you, you’ll surely give it back.”  Eric Clapton

Dr. Dot