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Rocker Stalker

The suspect people who follow bands around but don't try to sleep with them.
December 1, 2003, 12:00am

Photo by: The author | Sent from: Mobile, AL

I’m in a band. And part of what comes with being in a band is dealing with creeps, losers, and stalkers (ask the Rapture about that—holy shit). Fortunately, I haven’t dealt with many of them personally, but Jenn Kitt, a former bandmate of mine, almost went nuts because of it. Jenn was the lesbian keyboardist in my band xBxRx, and during our very first tour she had multiple run-ins with two different stalkers. One of them was this kid named Jason. He was a loser D&D kid who loved “noise rock with a spacey edge.” He also loved Jenn, a lot.
The second stalker was my dad. He’s a fucking freak who tries to live out his childhood fantasies by stalking my friends. With Jenn, he went a little too far. The nerd guy, Jason, had been creeping on Jenn for half a year—mostly through email and the occasional phone call—before we went on our inaugural tour. Then on the night of the very first show, we pulled into the parking lot of this club in Meadville, PA. There he stood. He ended up hitchhiking to every single show on the tour and would just lurk in the crowd with his shirt off. Sometimes you could even see a boner through his pants. At one show, Jenn got the jerk-off totally trashed and then let him ride in our van. When we were on the highway, he was all trying to grab her tits, and she told me to pull over. Then she opened the back door and kicked him to the pavement. It was the raddest thing I’d ever seen. She kicked his ass. We never encountered Jason again after that. As for my dad, he calls himself the Bootyman, so that’s really all I need to say. At the end of our tour we got to play Hawaii, and the Bootyman was already standing in the terminal wearing a hula skirt, coconut bra, and lei when we got off the plane. He gave Jenn a videotape of himself dressed up like an elf, telling her how in love with her he was, and it totally freaked her out. When we got back home, he sent her love letters every day, saying he would make her straight. He’d show up every time we played and just watch Jenn the way Jason had (except Bootyman kept his shirt on). Eventually, Jenn was like, “I don’t need this shit,” and broke his nose. Then she quit the band. V. COOLER