Chaz calls me this morning just to touch base. He’s checking up on me, which is nice. He wants to get together tomorrow and do something (which I hope is outside my apartment and not cooped up in here).
During our conversation, he mentions that his ex-wife is divorcing her current husband, and Chaz has been helping her move. This woman’s life is one crisis after another. But, she is the mother of his children, so he does things like that because he’s just a nice guy and he’s known her forever.
While we’re taking, he gets another call. Guess who? The ex wife. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay Stef?” he said.
“Fine,” I said.
Twenty minutes later, he calls back, but he doesn’t get one sentence out when his call waiting goes off again. This time, it’s his daughter, and Chaz tells me he’ll call back in ten minutes.
An hour and a half later… he calls me. I even got a nap in.
His daughter discovers that her son is smoking pot. The boy is 18. She talks about her concerns and Chaz is like “sounds like a personal problem”. He has no patience for all this family drama, but like a good dad, he listens anyway.
He then tells me that he’ll call me tomorrow and we’ll go out and do something.
The other day, I got three hundred books of matches in the mail.
It’s part of the street team materials I’m supposed to pass out after the Mayhem festival at the Zoo Amphlitheather next Saturday night to help promote Disturbed’s new album, Asylum. I’m supposed to get other things, too, but haven’t yet.
And, no, Disturbed is NOT playing at this particular festival.
I wish! But I don’t mind driving to Tulsa in September to see the band at the BOk Center.
I hope it’s not this hot a month from now.
I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~