Welcome to the “Words” section on your “Virtual Box-Set.” Here is where you will find stories that were edited out of the book, stories from people in Seven’s life and other funny (and disturbing) little tidbits!

In general, things felt like they were picking up for me. I was playing music again, feeling better about myself, and Mitch Diamond and his family were beginning to talk about recording an album. I remember being in an exceptionally good mood one evening when this absolute doll comes to the side of the sound booth while a band is playing. The band blasting away so she yells, “Are you the guy who books the bands?” I hate when people talk while I mix!

“One sec, I can’t hear you.” I don’t budge from the console.

“Are you the guy who books the bands?” Now I’m getting pissed! I start to say:

“Are you fuckin"...out...of...my GOD. Holy cow! This sight isn’t beautiful; it’s straight out of a wet dream! Standing next to my sound booth is a girl no more than twenty-four years old, and she is PERFECT! Big hair (eighties style big-rock-hair-style), a face like an angel, wearing a see-through blouse, revealing a beautiful set of mid-sized, perky “C” breasts in a lacy bra. Short skirt, black fishnet stockings, pumps and a big smile with bright red lipstick.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Only if I’m going to die in the next three minutes.”

“I am the singer in a band and I wanted to talk with you about playing here.”

“What day do you want to play”?

“Don’t you want to hear our demo tape first?”

“Lady, if you barked like Lassie over a cassette of classical music, drunk with an accompaniment of armless, legless violinists, you could play here ANYTIME you wanted.”

“You’re so funny!” I thought to myself, IF I could make love to this girl I’d cut off a toe right there and then. Maybe even two. I had to say something, quick without having to barter my own dismemberment...

“No, I’m serious. I have maybe ten minutes to live at most, and I wished for a beautiful woman, and you appeared. Can we leave now?”

“Where are we going to go?” she asks with a smile. Now I am out of the booth, holding her hand. She thinks this is all extremely funny, but I had lost track of what I was doing, where I was, what my name was. If she asked me to walk off a cliff with her at that moment, I would have done it without question. I hoped that she didn’t run a cult or my new name would have been “Delborg-Pheta V.”

“Fiji...” I said.

“OK, but first can you listen to my tape?” Tape, what is tape?

“I get off in an hour or so. Can you wait around?” I’m praying to GOD.


I sat her down at the bar and walking over is my refrigerator-sized bartender. “Bruiser, anything she could possibly ask for is on me, and if anyone tries to speak to her, KILL them first and ask questions later.” The band on the stage, the sound, everyone became an absolute, blur. All I could see was her, and there she was smiling at me and waiting patiently like she had nothing better to do. All I could think was here comes the bride, all dressed in...FISHNET!

I mixed the last two bands getting them on and off in record time, packed the microphones, cables, and stands. I tried to calm myself down by washing up before I sat down with her at the bar. She handed me a press kit with pictures, band biography, and a tape. I thanked her for waiting and put her tape on the sound system. I can’t even remember what it sounded like with the pounding in my chest! I told her it was terrific and booked her a “prime time” night ANY other band would have had to earn over the course of one or two crappier gigs. She lit up immediately saying, “Are you serious? THAT’S AMAZING!” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and a long, tight hug that I wished would never, ever end. In that embrace I was butter in her arms. Her breasts pressed up tight on me, the smell of her perfume and her breath...heavy with excitement from my “present to her.” I could have launched a “liquid missile” to CHINA with what was brewing in my libido.

I asked her if she wanted to go to get something to eat with me and she said “definitely.” We sat in the diner for at least three or four hours talking about everything. Music, life, religion, family, love. It was incredible. I thought to myself, "This is just too good to be true...I must have had a heart attack in the sound booth and this must be GOD’S present to me. Having just arrived in HEAVEN, there’s diner food and a delicious baby?"

As the sun started to rise and the diner’s staff started giving me the “just make your move already” faces, I made my move. “Hear me out before you say anything...I don’t want to sound sleazy but I can’t even FATHOM the idea of leaving you now. This morning was the most incredible morning of my entire life. I just moved into a new place and it’s a total disaster. I’ll get us a nice hotel room. I don’t care if you just want to sleep in the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor. I just met you and I’m destroyed by you. Yes, I saw you and thought you were beautiful...but to talk with you like we did? This isn’t a coincidence. This is the universe telling me that I have been given a present. Please come with me.” I was embarrassed and my face was red with the potential hurt of this moment ending. A hot, burning comet of a woman had just hit me and I couldn’t do anything but tell her the truth. I never EVER got embarrassed like that over someone I had JUST met, but my emotions were all over the place. I knew this was a valid scene. I wasn’t high or drunk. I prayed as she sat quietly and stared into my eyes. Then she spoke.

“You are beautiful. I never ever met anyone like you either, but I don’t want you to think that I’m someone I’m not. This is how I dress. I’m a rocker. I’m not easy but I don’t want this to end either. I’ll go with you but I don’t want you to misunderstand my intentions.” At that moment I needed to be closer to her. We sat on the same side of the diner booth as she touched my face and kissed me. I thought my heart was going to explode. I unbuttoned my shirt and put her hand on my chest.

“Feel that? That’s my intentions.” My heart was pounding!

We drove to a local motel and I got a room, asking for an extra set of blankets and sheets. When I got back into the car to drive to our room I told her I had stuff coming for us, and she just smiled. I could tell that she was feeling more comfortable being there when we parked and went up to the room. In the room I took off my jacket and got comfortable. When she asked me for my shirt I unbuttoned it, took it off, and handed it over. She walked into the bathroom. Meanwhile I just sat there not BELIEVING what was happening. Yes, I had dated some very pretty girls, but this woman was so far out of my league looks-wise, she was so caring and sweet...her voice as beautiful as her face. I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My daze was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a maid with the blankets and pillows I had asked for. I tipped her a few beans, closed the door, and made myself a sheet-bed on the floor. I could hear the shower running. It was a long day and a shower would wake me up...”

She walked out wearing nothing but my shirt and I told her I wanted to take a fast shower and rinse off. I walked in the bathroom with the thought of relieving myself sexually, so that GOD forbid I didn’t make love to her…I didn't want to be on the floor pitching a tent all night or things might end sooner than I wanted them too (Once again, Russ Schreibman’s sagely advice came in handy!). I thought of asking her to come in, but passed on that idea because ever since I almost drowned as a young child, showers and baths (for the most part) were (and still are) my least favorite places for lovemaking. I showered off, put my underwear back on, and walked out into the room. There she was, lying under the covers like a Playboy playmate. I noticed my shirt on the chair by the bed and I laid out my pants next to it. I laid down on my homemade-bed as she leaned over the side of the bed and said, “That looks lonely...” I wish you could see this beauty looking at me. She looked even better without makeup.

“I really meant what I said.” was all I could say. She gave me the “come up here” finger motion and I could tell this was going to be the greatest night (day) of my life. She smelled so good...I pulled the sheet back gently revealing the side of her naked profile. I got into bed, covered us back up, and I lay on my side quietly looking at her. I could feel my face twitching nervously as I tried to smile.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, I just died and went to heaven. I can’t believe how nice and beautiful you are and you’re here with me. It’s crazy.”

She said “I don’t think its so crazy.” and she kissed me...WOW. Her body was tight, her breasts larger than they appeared in her bra, her mouth sweet and “minty” from brushing her teeth (you gotta LOVE a woman who carries a toothbrush in her bag). We made love for hours in the bed, on the sheets and blanket I had on the floor, on the chair. We slept, awoke, and made love again. When I say we “made love” I am not kidding. We shared an intensity that morning that all my experiences up to that very moment couldn’t hold a candle too. Later on I called the front desk of the motel to tell that I would pay extra for late checkout, and we had food delivered from a local restaurant. We literally never wanted it to end. Saying “goodbye” to her was tough. I definitely wanted to see her again and I desperately hoped she felt the same way.

Later that night at work I was in a daze. The bartender told me I looked like I got hit by lightening. Even though I showered at the motel, I never went home for a fresh change of clothes. He teased me the entire evening. She and I saw each other a few more times, but having made the mistake of going too fast, too soon, conversation and love-making never came close to matching the intensity of our first night together. Her band performed, and while they actually drew a decent audience, the music and her vocals were quite a turn-off to me. The night of her performance she had been so excited over how well the band did, she wanted me to take her home and make love to her all night. We wound up getting way too high and drunk and crashed at my friend Eddie’s house. When she woke she must have realized it wasn’t as cool and romantic a scene as the motel and split without even waking me. I gave it a night or two before I called her and when I finally did, she agreed that the vibe was mutual. It wasn’t the same. We moved too fast and being friends would be the best bet for both of us. In hindsight, I really believe that it wasn’t our fault. It just happened. Sometimes when someone touches us, it changes us. It was a memorable experience, to say the least.

** If this book was a DVD – this would be a deleted scene:

Valley Stream, NY 

Summer of 1982

Seven and I took a trip to the local drugstore with my friend and bandmate Marc. Marc was in the market for some condoms. He had a steady girlfriend at the time and the rubbers were for birth control. This was just before they invented AIDS. As was the custom then, the condoms were kept behind the counter and you had to ask the druggist for them. This was obviously done to maximize embarrassment and to prevent teenagers from getting their hands on birth control at a time when they’re thinking about nothing else but uncontrollably, frenzied boinking. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

Seven and I tagged along for moral support. I picture us as a Y chromosome version of three chicks going to the Ladies Room together when they’re out at a club.

We three teenage rock dudes all had untamed shoulder-length hair somewhat reminiscent of a poodle / Lhasa Apso mix. There’s a ninety percent chance I was wearing an Aerosmith shirt as I was obsessed with them at the time. Vegas odds that we were looking majorly disheveled to slightly homeless 2:1. The possibility of us being mistaken for the cast of Charlie’s Angels – pretty damn high.

Marc and Seven sauntered into the small Mom n Pops pharmacy and I lagged behind to check to see if the payphone had any change in the coin return. Loitering by the register were a few people waiting for their prescriptions to be filled. Three steps before we got to the register Seven turned back to me with a mischievous smile. I got a knot in my stomach. In two seconds Seven pulled the bottom front of his t-shirt up and over the neck of his t-shirt creating what appeared to be a woman’s halter top. Then just as Marc’s asked for the condoms Seven stuffs his hand into the front pocket of Marc’s jeans, throws his other arm around Marc’s neck and licks Marc’s ear. The pharmacist then says to Marc, “Son, I don’t think you’ll be needing these…” to which Seven replies with a lisp, “Oh, yes we do honey but make sure you give us the ribbed Trojans. Last week we got those Forex lambskin ones and he left one inside me. Damn near had to call Lewis and Clark to paddle up there and fish it out!”

Then Seven winked at the clerk who incredulously handed over the three pack of Trojans while Marc plunked down his cash hurriedly.

The three of us about face and head toward the exit with Seven cackling like a female version of the Joker from the 1960’s Batman show. Marc is perturbed and skeeved out, using his t-shirt to get Seven’s saliva out of his ear and I’m mortified knowing that all too soon I’d be back at the pharmacy with my Mom getting some antibiotics for my recurring bronchitis.

Good times...

Sam Mastandrea

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