Putting the Madge in Danna Read Online Free PDF Page A

they still seem sticky even
though the Vietnamese lady says you can go.
    He had a pretty large console set-up, very
Jay-Z worthy, filled with all these gadgets that control volume and
tones. It reminded me of big penis jokes for some reason, like what
they say about guys who drive big cars or whatever. It looked like
it took more than one engineer to run it all, but what do I know
about the technical aspects of making music? There was a glass
enclosed booth, sort of the size of one of those photo booths at
the county fair. No, it was a little bigger, actually. Big enough
to fit two singers on high stools and maybe a couple guitarists
standing in back too.
    The whole room still reeked like a garage,
complete with a rake, lawn mower, snow blower and other gadgets for
outdoor chores. The walls had foam lining them, sort of a homemade
soundproofing that seemed to create a kind of fortress (of kink, I
thought). Pot halogens dangled from the unfinished ceiling like air
masks that pop out when a jet’s about to crash. Was this entire
mission a wreck in progress?
    As he approached, he must
have noted that strange look I get on my face when I think
something is odd. Zeus is always tells me things are written all over my face – not literally of course, but you know. Like when my nose
scrunches up all funny when I drink wine. I’ve been trying to get
out of that habit, drinking a little bit every day or so to get
used to it because I don’t want to look like I don’t love Jesus
when I have to drink his wine blood at my wedding. That would be
very unorthodox.
    “ We’re still putting the
finishing touches on a shed out back for that stuff,” Chad offered
as an explanation pointing to his landscaping tools. “Then there
are plans to finish the walls and paint them yellow.”
    I said, “Mellow yellow.” I had been thinking
it but then it just popped out aloud. I hate when that happens.
    “ Yeah. That’s right,” he
said. “It’ll help calm people if they feel nervous. Sometimes
seeing a professional studio space is daunting.” God, I dislike the
word daunting ! It
makes me think people who use it are trying to be smarter or
something. Then I thought, maybe Chad Mavis was trying to impress
me with his big words. Could he be harboring a big, juicy cock
beneath his big vocab – a kind of a put-your-money- where-your-mouth-is thingy?
    I said, “Hi. I’m Dannika Elinopoulous, soon
to be Zepkos. I’m getting married next month. We spoke on the
phone?”
    “ Nice to meet you,” he
said as he offered his hand to shake. “I’m Chad.”
    I made a slight fist and we knuckle bumped
instead. “Manicure,” I said sheepishly. “I know who you are, Mr.
Mavis. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
    “ Really? How
so?”
    I laid it on really thick. Thought it would
be a good idea to shower the old guy (he’s about thirty-five) with
all sorts of mega compliments to butter him up. I shared some
tidbits from prom, and how Zeus and I had followed his career some,
and la-la-la. Then I proceeded with my cover story, you know, about
the music for my wedding. He showed me a sample of a tape he’d put
together for some Russian couple. I think he had it in his head
that all foreigners are interchangeable. Well, maybe the religion
is the same but the culture – come on! That’s such an American
thing to think and it kind of bothered me. Oh well. Sorry. I know –
it wasn’t a biggie, and it’s not like I’m going to marry the
guy.
    I don’t even have to like him or any of my
potential fucksters, although that would certainly make this
journey more fun. Madonna wasn’t in love with her record producer,
of course. I just need Chad Mavis’ pricker in my hoo-ha – Madonna’s
rules and I must abide by them or else I will have a pitiful life
full of the cum of only one young man.
    I said, “I’d like some
Madonna for my processional, the older stuff, like Crazy for You .” Then I
started singing it, a cappella. This time it was an