Brandon Zano August 25 at 12:11 | Comments

Photo 35

So a couple of years ago I went to LA with the band I was in at that time, Dozen Dead Roses. We went out there for a music convention called NAMM. We had some shows booked out in LA, too. The first night we got there I went out with one of my friends I hadn’t seen in years. We went to this place in Venice Beach (I can’t remember what the place was called). I met a girl, she was a super tall Russian model/artist. We talked for a while and had a great time. I invited her to our show that we had the next night. I didn’t think she would show up but apparently I made some sort of impression and she showed up right before we went on. After the show the rest of the band and our manager were in some sort of hurry to leave. So after talking (and making out) with this girl I thought it was the end. After pouting to the guys about how I met the most rad chick ever, they let me leave with her. This was the start of a very interesting three days.

We immediately went out to every bar in LA. Drinking Jack by the bottle, and doing tons of drugs, we finally ended up at her and her sisters place. For the next few days we woke up to the bottle. Had sex more times then I can count and did more bad things than you can fathom, all while ignoring my band and our manager’s phone calls. Keep in mind that this girl could barely speak English. We didn’t really have anything in common besides the fact that we both had mohawks. Hey, whatever works right?? Anyway…

The morning of the day I was supposed to leave, I wanted to see Venice Beach and all the crazies that walk around. We were in the back seat of the car when the girl notices a sharpie rolling around on the floor. She picks it up and without thought, writes “I FUCKING LOVE YOU” on my arm. All the way up my arm. Sounds innocent enough right? WRONG. I was fucking shit faced. We get out of the car and as we were stumbling around, walking down the boardwalk, I see a tattoo shop. I look at my arm and get the bright idea to get it tattooed on me. The problem was that I was broke. Seems like a blessing in disguise right? Well, everyone that we were with was wasted as well. So, they were like, “If you get that, I’ll pay for it!” Then the girl says “If you’re going to get it then I am too!”

We walk in to the tattoo shop and explain what we want. Immediately the whole shop goes up in “aww”s. They give us a discount as when they asked us how long we knew each other we said “3 days”. So we sit down in 2 chairs next to each other, and they get to it. Of course they are videotaping and “interviewing” the whole time. I guess they don’t care at tattoo shops in Venice if you’re on another fucking planet.

Afterwards they dropped me off at the airport where I met up with the rest of my pissed the fuck off band members. They wouldn’t even look at me, although they did seem to be amused at my new arm piece. Were they laughing at me or with me I wonder? I saw our producer that night in the airport, too.  He told me recently that I was such an asshole back then. Ha-ha. That hit makes me laugh. Anyway, I had to deal with all of my friends in Cleveland making fun of me for MONTHS. I must have told this story 2000 times. This is the last time. I am in the middle of a cover up so hopefully soon I won’t have to deal with this shit anymore.

Moral of the story? Don’t get tattoo’d all drunk as hell. Fuck.

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