Is it tough, Mrs. Donna Jean? Being a woman in the boy’s club?
“Oh, darling, you make do. Do what y’can. It’s all a big boy’s club–the music biz–not just this here Dead. They all treat me like a little sister, cept for Keith, who treats me like his wife, and Bobby, who treats me like a woman.”
“Like last time we all was in Omaha. Crew had them a groupie cockfight: they’d tape razor spars to the girls’ hands and fight ’em. Usually they had to jack the ladies up on Meth and Tequila, but this night they found two girls who was natural mean. One of ’em was missing an ear, and it had happened recently…”
I don’t understand where you’re going with this.
“So them girls get to rassling and Lady Van Gogh got haunches like a teen kangaroo, she could kick a hole through a mountain and SCLERODERMA! she cracked the other girl’s sternum. Now, I was mortified! The sight of it all! But did I leave? No. Avert my eyes? Bless your heart if y’think so.”
And what does this–
“I did leave the room shortly thereafter, as the fracas had aroused in a sexual fashion Billy’s loins. It was just better to not be around when that happened, sugar.