By Rusty Hat
Photo by Thiago Miranda
Look, I get it.
This shit isn’t easy by any means, especially in Los Angeles. Getting folks to come out to support your overpowering, poop inducing sonics becomes quite a task, especially when your band’s slot time is 1 AM in the morning.
Enter Sheila Blaze, mixologist extraordinaire.
Sheila recently landed a new bartending gig at the Pirates Booty, a 900 square foot, wood-paneled box where every loud band in town plays at. The problem is no one is showing up to the shows, and poor Sheila is the only one in the room most of the time, being blasted to death by cookie monster vocals and bleed to death guitar solos.
Sheila loves Justin Beiber, attends Coachella religiously, and will only drink a well-prepared Moscow mule in a brass cup. No joke, this chick has zero idea why the hell she is working at The Booty. Maybe it’s the meth addiction, but who knows. Maybe its the edgy vibe of the place. I did she her cuddling up to Grog, lead vocalist of Butane Slang. That’s as edgy as edgy gets around here.
$16 and a cold, leftover bacon-wrapped hot dog. That was her take home that night. “FUCK!!!”, Sheila screamed to the air while waiting for her Uber that would cost approximately $14.90 to get home.
“At least I’m meeting people, I’m from Kansas, you know.”, she said.
Unfortunately, the people she has kept meeting seemed to all have police records or desperately needed a couch to sleep on. Fast forward two restraining orders later, I think she is starting to get it.
“I heckle the fuckers now. After that last douchebag stole my cats turquoise necklace and shit in my sink with a note that said “I’ll miss the good times”, I was done.” She said.
She doesn’t even barely make money there, she actually has another full-time job working at a marketing agency but decided to keep the late-night gig just to make sure each band that doesn’t bring people in is gonna get fucked with.
“Oh yeah, I talked them up and wait for them to ask for their precious drink tickets,” She rolls her eyes back into her head, “Those will now be the only drinks I serve tonight, and of course they don’t reach into their pockets and drop even a dollar for a tip, they give me a shit grin smile and a lot of anger I will now release on their shitty bands ears in between songs.”
“YOU SUUUCK!, WHY ARE YOU EVEN A BAND! BOOOOOO!”, She screams after the first song. She tells us that where the first crack hits best. Most bands immediately are dazed and screw up the next tune. That’s when she strikes harder.
“DO YOU SMELL THAT? THAT’S SHIT AND ITS COMING FROM THE STAGE! PEEEEEEYUUUUU! STINKY!”, She yells again. This continues through the whole set. I’ve seen bands just leave and not play when they see that she is on shift.
After work, she heads to this 24 hour MMA gym and armbars random strangers while yelling the bands’ names that stiffed her at the bar. She says it releases the “Kraken” that lays dormant inside her.
Well, we got word that she finally quit the Booty and got a promotion at work after her boss got held in a sleeper hold until he submitted to her requests. At least she gained the strength to succeed from her experiences, but I really hope she never works at the Booty again, I can’t go through seeing so many bands break up after a show again.
A word from the wise. If you are playing around town and trying to build up brownie points with venues, don’t be a dick and tip your fucking bartender!