Slash tried to call me every night that he was out traveling. He was pretty relived and proud that the music video was aired on MTV finally after a bicker with the company that it was "too violent", and after that, the band got in trouble for one of their songs talking about homosexuals and "niggers". I hadn't heard the song but, I know that Slash and Axl were particularly pissed off that people were taking it one way when it was meant another way. They were upset with their assumptions and judgements and apparently, " they didn't even take the time to understand what the song was even about". I understood that; but I said something along the lines as, " I know that you guys were talking about people who get in your ways. I get it. But you got to understand not everyone thinks the way you guys do, and things, of course have many different meanings to many different people." They still didn't seem to get it.
Now, Slash is home with me after doing some North America shows, and he never seems to just give up, so he starts playing at venues all over Los Angeles.
There was no way for me to even sneak a sip of alcohol so I kept it out of the house, which drove Slash absolutley crazy; he didn't have me as a drinking partner so he would go get his drinks at the Los Angeles bar, then come home pretty drunk and then along with me having to take care of myself, I had to deal with his awful hangovers in the morning. Most of the time, he would come home, and I would already be asleep and he would pass out on the couch. So in the morning I would find him in the living room. It seemed to be the daily routine ever since we had settled back at home.
    " Here," I handed him some saltines, a banana and some tea. My mom taught me hangover meals that can cure a hangover pretty instantly; she was never for pills and she would rather do fresh natural things than destroy a liver. Even thought the damage was already done, it was more beneficial to cure it than make it feel better temporarily but still kill you.
    He wiped the chunks of "tossed cookie" off his face and began to drink, with his hair all in his face, he couldn't really see the cup, so I stroked it out of his face and held it up as he drank and ate.
He was a hot mess. His shirt was stained with vomit, his hair was all knotted up like a nest, His eyes were red and puffy and it looked like he had pissed his pants. This hadn't been the first time; and probably wouldn't be the last. This was just the unglamorous part of rockstars that nobody talks about too much.
" Thanks babe" he let out a small burp of satisfaction, and a huge sigh to go with it.
" Looks like you pissed your pants again..."
" Fuck.." He chuckled, " Looks like I did..."
" C'mon, go get cleaned up."
" Nah nah, it's alright."
" Alright?? What the hell do you mean it's alright? You can't even walk, you smell like you haven't showered before-like you don't even know what a shower is and....Slash! Are you listening to me? where the fuck are you going? I'm talking to you!"
" Shhhh," he closed his eyes and shook his head as he headed for the door, which he leaned on. He grabbed the door, " Thanks for the food, I feel better. Um...I'll see you tonight I guess...or tomorrow morning. I'm going out again." He grabbed his guitar, and left.

I bit my lip and grabbed the phone.

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