Ozzy Osbourne Headed To Conroe For Book Signing
Dr. Ozzy makes a house call at Toyota Center, January 2011
Photo by Groovehouse
Conroe is a sleepy little East Texas town on the northern fringes of the greater Houston area. And now it's about to get a jumbo-size shot of wake-up juice from the Prince of Darkness himself.
No shit: Ozzy Osbourne will sign copies of his new book, Trust Me, I'm Dr. Ozzy: Advice From Rock's Ultimate Survivor, at 7 p.m. Tuesday, October 18, at Hastings Entertainment (1306 W. Davis St.). The press release Rocks Off got this morning recommend interested parties contact the store for more information. So we did, dialed 1 and everything.
The manager on duty, Chris, wasn't sure how his particular Hastings got picked, or if Ozzy would be reading from his new book as well as signing copies. But he did confirm that the Wizard of Ozz would definitely be there, and that the store is expecting a "huge" crowd.
Trust Me, I'm Dr. Ozzy is a collection of the Ozzman's musings from the advice column he's been periodically writing for Rolling Stone the past couple of years as well as, we imagine, inspirational wisdom left over from his last book, 2010's I Am Ozzy.
Here's a sampling of Ozz's advice from some (fairly) recent colums. Good stuff.
Aug. 4, 2011:
Q: My pretty blond girlfriend has a major thing for the drummer of a well-known band. They're going to be playing a gig in our town in the next few weeks, and somehow she's managed to score a backstage pass. Do I have any reason to be worried?
A: I'd ask one of my good drummer friends to answer this question for you - but they're all too busy boning other people's blond girlfriends.
Apr. 28, 2011
Q: I'm pretty sure I have a smaller-than-average penis. As a result, I'm scared of talking to girls and I'm thinking of getting enlargement surgery. Is this a good idea?
A: Look, if it ain't broke, don't try to fix it - 'cause the only thing worse than a very small penis is a very small penis that looks like some mutant fucking eel from outer space. I mean, just think of the shit that could go wrong. Those plastic-surgeon guys couldn't get Michael Jackson's face right, so why the fuck would you trust them with your dick? I certainly wouldn't believe the ads they send you on e-mail. Believe me, if that stuff really worked, there'd be lines around the block. My advice? Steer clear.
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