If you've kept up with this blog over the past couple of months you may have noticed posts celebrating a few of the many women who have shared my life. Some stuck around for awhile and others moved on in a matter of days (hours, even). Each one, I assure you, left their own unique, indelible mark upon my heart, especially the ones I can remember.
And there have been many. Many. Many. An almost countless bevy of wonderful hotties who found pleasure in my company, in my sexual prowess and in my bottomless supply of drugs. But, as a legendary music pioneer, with desires common to all men, it's expected of me to "reel 'em in", as it were. I'm a hero to many young boys and they need a role model who can demonstrate how easy it is to manage multiple relationships. I mean, my own childhood hero was Mick Jagger and I always stood in awe of the sheer number of gals who passed through his motel room door, into his bed, then back out to the lobby, just as often smiling as crying.
Mick has settled down now, as all great men must do, so the gauntlet has been passed to me. I alone must bear this burden of being a jukebox hero to a nation of young rockers, all of whom expect great things from me. Decadent things.
Luckily my career as a star in the music industry has provided me with more than enough experience with which I am qualified to lead these young whippersnappers into a life of greed, despair, disease, corruption and addiction. "Follow me!" is my beckoning call, "Take up your guitars, put on your spandex pants, take a swig of Jack Daniels and let's get this motherfucker ROLLIN'!!!"
And if you need any encouragement, my libidinous disciples, read on...
JulianneOf all the girls I've loved before, Julianne is the one that I adored the most. Sure, she could be a real brat sometimes, but such behaviour is often a necessary by-product of trying to satisfy a rock and roll hero. I lost track of her in 2001. Her departure broke my spirit and sent me reeling into an abyss of depression. Julianne, wherever you are, I can only hope that you know how much you meant to me.
JeannaJeanna came along in late 2001 and tried her very best to help me overcome the tragedy of losing Julianne. She was successful for the most part. But there were times when she consciously tried to piss me off. On most of these occasions she achieved her goal. No matter, she made up for it by being an excellent cook.
AnnieOne of the most uninhibited women I've ever had the pleasure to know, Ann was up for just about anything...including the members of my band. At first this troubled me but eventually I got over it. I figured it was just Annie being Annie. Unfortunately by the time I DID get get over it Annie had run away with our drummer. As much as I cared for Annie, I think I was more upset about having to find another drummer than with her hasty exit.
JacquelineI couldn't even begin to describe my feelings for Jacqueline. So I won't try. I will say that she was the biggest Stones fan I've ever known. Many was the time we were locked in a passionate embrace, pure lust flowing through our bodies like electricity. Two or three times this awesome, intense love-making was brought to a screeching halt as she screamed "MICK!" Eventually I got used to it. 
KristaraI met Kristara on a visit to Japan when my band, Tiny Tove, was on tour and stopped off for a little R & R (and I don't mean "rock and roll"). An Asian beauty, she showed me the ways of the Orient. She also stirred up a nice sweet and sour sauce that brought me to my knees begging for more. She thought Tiny Tove was a silly name for a band and we fought over it for almost the entirety of our short relationship.
ChristyThe band's Econoline van had broken down next to a souvenir shop by the Grand Canyon. Christy (at least that's the name she gave me) drug a huge tool box from a back room in the store. She then proceeded to fix our van. I didn't have any sort of relationship with her (unfortunately), but I will forever be grateful to her for the mechanic work. She thought Tiny Tove was a stupid name for a band, too.
VictoriaThese days I look back on the good times I had with Victoria and I think to myself, 'Damn but you had some good times with that gal'. And it's true. All the time I spent with her was good. There were no bad times, only good times. She had a way of taking a bad day and turning it into a good day. It was all good...except that her personal hygiene was considerably less than good. But you know what? Not only did I get used to it (I mean, just LOOK at her!), I actually began to like it. Until she left, at which point I demanded a higher standard of cleanliness in my lovers.
LysaOkay, I'll admit it. Lysa was probably not what many of you gents would consider "hot", especially when compared to the brick shithouses I usually go for. But I've got a few words for all the haters out there. FUCK YOU! What do you bastards know about true beauty anyway? Just because you don't stand a chance in hell of hooking up with the kind of dolls who fall for me doesn't give you the right to take out your well-earned frustration on my Lysa. No matter what you say, she's an angel, and she's good in the sack, too.
KimOkay, so Tiny Tove may well be a stupid band name. Kim did everything in her power to try and get us to change it. She tried to persuade our keyboard player. She tried to persuade our bassist. She tried to persuade our lead guitarist and rhythm guitarist at the same time. She even tried to persuade our recently recruited drummer. It's probably a good thing we didn't have a horn section...regardless, by the time she tried to persuade me I had already decided to change the name anyway. Of course I didn't tell her so she had little trouble persuading me.
MarilynSleek and sexy, Marilyn was one of the first foxes to approach me after a show and ask for her money back. I laughed and said, "What a joker you are!"...To which she replied, "I'm serious. Give me my money."..."Surely we can work this out, baby", I said, "Howzabout you come with me to the van and I'll show you why they call me 'Big Jim'"..."Who calls you Big Jim?" she asked..."The sound man."..."Give me money back."
LoniLoni, Loni, Loni...I call out your name once every 6 months. I scream it at the top of my lungs in a voice that betrays the agony and pain that you left, like festering sores, on my psyche when you walked out on me. The scars on my body that you put there with a dull-edged knife hurt like a motherfucker as well. No, they have not healed, as I am in the habit of scratching them periodically. But my love for you was real, despite what I said about your asshole father and your skanky-ho mom.
DarleneWhat a happy girl Darlene was. Such a bundle of joy. She had a way of making everyone happy. If you were down in the dumps, all you had to do was talk to Darlene for a little while. If you were still miserable after an hour with her, well you had your own damn self to blame, because this girl had what it took to cheer up even the most grumpy son-of-a-bitch. She always had a smile on her face...until my cruelty wiped it off forever. Her whole world came crashing in not too long after we began dating, as I subtly manipulated her mind with false promises and brought tears to her eyes as, one by one, I broke them.
CandieWhat is it they used to say? Candie's dandy but liquor's quicker? Oh, yeah, that's true. There was nothing "quick" about Candie. In fact, she often walked away from our bedroom unsatisfied because I, in fact, did share too much in common with booze. She may have been frustrated but she never let on. It was strange, though, how she always went on long walks after making love. Just as baffling were all the charges on our cell phone bill to our newly recruited drummer. As you may have guessed, it was not long until we were once again in the market for a drummer, and on a more personal level, I was in the market for a new girlfriend, too.
BridgetteBridgette actually liked the name Tiny Tove, and even better, she professed a strong distaste for drummers. She'd heard of us from a friend who attended a Tiny Tove show in a small backwater town. Her friend had enjoyed our 19 minute rendition of "Free Bird" so much that she told Bridgette all about us. Bridgett proceeded to seek us out, and me in particular. By the time she caught up with us we had already changed the band's name to Blind Society. She tried many, many times to persuade me into changing it back to Tiny Tove. I never gave in, so 8 months later she said, "Fuck it, Jimbo. I give up. I'm outta here!"
VeronicaI don't usually have a penchant for older women because...well...because in general they don't seem to have much of a penchant for me. That all changed the night Veronica came knocking on the van door. I was alone, observing my usual drug imbibing ritual while the other guys in the band knocked one off before last call. Veronica walked in on me just as I finished tying a tourniquet around my arm. Startled, I looked up at her, thinking that the jig was up, I'd been busted, and by one foxy mama as well. "Here", she said, "Let me help you with that"...She knew what she was doing as she plunged the needle into my arm, and she was even more skilled at the ways of booty-knocking. it was all fine and good until she began to scream Mick Jagger's name while we were getting it on. She hung around for four more days, and each evening she called out the name of a different Stone. And all this time I'd thought Jacqueline was the Stones' biggest fan... 
