Rock Star

When you are a rock star like me, you wake up late.

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You stumble to the kitchen to look for some grub – preferably greasy to help with the headache after sleeping for 12 hours, but that lady in the kitchen insists on things like oatmeal and yogurt. So you placate her with a few bites and then blow the joint.

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You might take a quick swing in your Ferrari-Camaro-Lamborghini deal.

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It might look like it’s lots of fun, but remember, you’re a rock star, and you have a reputation to uphold.

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You are a tough, bad boy.

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And if the world won’t… heeeeeeeeey.

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What a fine looking fellow.

I might have to pause and take in that magnificent view.

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And, yes, I’ll just give you a little mighty fine loving, too.

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And one more time:

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Wow!

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What a looker.

Now get the paparazzi out of my face!

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