Kid Rock-ed My World

I might have mentioned before that I work for an entertainment facility. If not, it’s because it’s not that impressive and I’m not really a girl who is awestruck by celebrities. Unless, Simon Baker (Patrick Jane from The Mentalist) walked through the door. Then I would be a giddy school girl who can’t make actual real words come out of my mouth. Possibly with drool.

Anyway, occasionally we host concerts. It’s exhausting. We are a small facility, so for those types of events, I actually have to leave my office and help with manual labor things like setting chairs. Glamorous, right? It also requires long hours. Not that unusual for an accountant, except that we don’t usually move away from our desk and computer.

This week we hosted Kid Rock and I am flooded with memories of many years ago when Kid (You know, cuz we’re tight like that. And if you believe that, you are even more gullible than I am.) first performed at our building. It was on the night before Easter, but more importantly, it was just a month after our local Mardi Gras festivities.

Why is that important, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

You see, The Ex, then my exhausting husband, worked for a beer company. I’m not kidding. It’s ridiculous, I know. It would be like sending me to work at the Hershey’s Chocolate Factory. File that under “Not A Good Idea.”

His work “required” that he work at the Mardi Gras parades and concerts. And by required, he meant that he wanted to go and drink and this was the perfect excuse. By that time in the marriage, I had already moved into the its-easier-when-you’re-gone-anyway mentality and the I-don’t-care-to-argue-about-it frame of mind. Until he was completely unreachable and didn’t come home until the next morning.

Me: Listen, Dude, let’s both stop pretending that I’m oblivious. We both know that you weren’t “working” all night. So give me a better excuse than that. What could possibly justify not coming home to your family?

The Ex: “Here’s what happened. I was on the company bus [a very nice motor-home similar to the “buses” used by artists like Kid Rock] and I got to talking to the Beer Girls about the business.”

Me: [Unable to stifle a huge guffaw and practically choking on my soft drink.] Oh really? What business is that?

The Ex: You know, modeling. Those girls are all models, and everyone is always telling us that the boys should be models, so I was just asking them about the business.

Me: Oh, please. Those girls are no more models than I am. They are college girls hired to show their boobs and flirt with rednecks to increase beer sales. I’m not buying it. And even if I was buying it, there is no reason to hang out with them all night to discuss it. How would you feel if the roles were reversed? What if in a few weeks, when Kid Rock is in town, I just hang out on his bus all night? You know, to discuss the business.”

The Ex: I wouldn’t care.

And here’s where it gets funny. Fast forward a few weeks. Kid Rock rolls into town. On his bus. I work the concert. Late. I mean, really late. Not because I was hanging out on his bus, but because of some mayhem involving a night deposit getting stuck while a member of SWAT warned other night depositors to back away. (Yes, these things only happen to me.) Completely innocent. No where near Kid Rock or a bus or anything remotely fun. (Although looking at the shocked faces of the other night depositors when they saw the big SWAT gun was a little funny.) And The Ex wouldn’t care, right?


When I got home at an ungodly hour way past my bedtime, I noticed that the Easter Bunny had not made an appearance. (Shocker.) I groaned because OH THE EXHAUSTION, then immediately started stuffing plastic eggs and filling baskets. All of a sudden somebody-that-seemed-to-care-but-said-he-wouldn’t burst into the room and growled, “Where in the h*ll have you been?”

Me: On Kid Rock’s bus talking about the business. Duh.

The Ex: You are such a b*@#h.

Me: I know. Hey, why didn’t you fill the baskets?

The Ex: Cuz that’s your job. Maybe you should have been home doing that instead of hanging out on a bus with your boyfriend.

Y’all, I am giggling right now almost as much as I was then. Cuz that there’s funny. I don’t care who you are. Kid Rock is my boyfriend?

Hmmm, I wonder if Kid would find it funny. Maybe I’ll ask him the next time he’s in town and we talk business. I’ll tell him about that night on his bus that he Kid-Rocked my world. If only he had been there. And me too.


Photo courtesy of Google Images.



  1. Great story! I’m still laughing because I know how those shows turn into all night events and it’s just a world wind thing and you walk into your house at 5am Dazed and Confused. Your waiting to get paid, the main act is upset about the cut of what they made. Dude you signed a contract! Get your ass on stage so I can get paid! And yes the model, girl thing can be the worst! Concerts are fun, and look glamorous from the outside, but once your in the middle of it all it’s crazy!!! But, for you stronger the Kid Rock show should be a break from your crazy life, and a look into a person with a even crazier life!!! Hope it was fun! “throw a finger in the air, let me see where you at”…

  2. Thanks for the laugh. I really needed it. My ex just got remarried the day before what would have been our 25th anniversary. He’s started going down the list violating the terms of the divorce so now I’m having to shell out big bucks to lawyers. It’s exhausting dealing with all the crazy. Thanks again.

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