You Prissy Twit

A few ladies and I were enjoying some Tabloid Tea on Sunday when one woman, who was new to the tradition, asked, "Why do you guys make fun of all these celebrities?". Our answer was simple: That's what they're THERE for. Who else are we going to make fun of - the lady who rings us up at TJ Maxx? The last time I checked, the cashier at TJ Maxx didn't go through five boyfriends a week, wear ugly $5,000 furry boots, dance on top of tables at Sundance and show everyone her cooter, and parade around Rodeo Drive with a dog in a purse and a Greek shipping heir up her butt. The cashier at TJ Maxx has too much class for that kind of nonsense.

And so we salute you, universal trust fund Hollywood skank, for without you we would have to find somebody else to make fun of around the picnic table. Here here!

Maggie

Cuts Like A Knife

Finally, a celebrity news story that MAKES SENSE. It has been reported that Lindsay Lohan was rushed off to yet another hospital last Friday, January 27th. This time she "cut herself". None of this is extraordinary, however, I feel the need to point out that she was staying at Bryan Adams's London home at the time. What?

Apparently, Bryan Adams - YES - Bryan Adams and Lindsay Lohan have become fast friends. Makes sense. They're both ... hmm ... hmm ... hmm ...alright, you got me. I can't think of a single thing those two have in common. I had somebody say, "They're both singers!", but then I laughed so hard that the ensuing wind of snickering that I expelled knocked down the entire state of Florida and most of southern Georgia. Even the King Frog!

I guess maybe he reminds her of her dad, or maybe Balmudo from Grease and Grease 2, or perhaps he has a soft spot in his heart and a hard spot in his pants for 19 year old girls with daddy issues. It's the not-knowing that really ties my turnip.

Maggie

Come see The Freakin' Hott and I Am Balmudo at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale this Friday. No cover, 21 and up, first band will go on around 11.

No Sympathy for The Devil

Obviously, if you spend enough time anywhere near Boca Raton, you're going to see some ridiculous shizzle. Let's take for instance, our recent trip to the mall in the heart of the Mouth of The Rat. Sure, we saw plenty of girls wearing frilly sweatshirt-material miniskirts with giant furry Mukluk boots, which is to be expected. We also saw many young men who were clearly "Growing Up Gotti" and had the no sideburns/stromboli spiked hair to show for it. I like to imagine that they use their haircuts till the proverbial soil of the homecoming court before spreading their collective oily demon seed, but then, I'm a dreamer.

Among the Juicy Couture tracksuits and two hundred dollar faux-distressed denim, I heard a tiny bark. As it drew closer, I saw a woman who looked like a Victoria Beckham/Crypt Keeper hybrid pushing a pink baby carriage. As she rolled by on the wind of Yankee Candles and Chik-Fil-A, I peered inside the screened carriage to find her "baby" nestled in a pink Donna Karan blanket. Her baby, of course, was a poodle.

My initial feelings of sadness for this unwilling, pedigreed hellhound subsided when I realized that this dog was wearing a more expensive sweater than me, had a bottle of Evian next to him, and probably gets his ass wiped three times a day by a surly butler named "Montague". Granted, he has to spend every day looking at the botoxed face of evil in the surgically-lifted eye and get smothered with collagen-lipped kisses until he barfs up the filet mignon he had for dinner, but at the end of the day, this dog has a better chance of getting a VIP table on Deco Drive than I could ever dream of.

Maggie

Don't forget - Show this Friday, February 3rd, at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale. Poodles drink free.

Motley Crue, Ryan Seacrest, and You

Okay, so Motley Crue finally got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. As silly as their egos and antics are, they deserve it, even if for no other reason than that all four of them managed to survive this long. "Dr. Feelgood" is merely icing on the cake. A lot of people will tell you that Girls, Girls, Girls was a better album, and that's a fair statement...if you're an IDIOT.

MOVING ON.

So it's a big celebration for Motley Crue except for one tiny detail: Britney Spears already got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2003. That's right. Britney "I Was Only 2 Years Old When 'Shout at The Devil' Came Out" Spears. Who decides when these stars are given out?!

For my own amusement, I pulled up a few other people who received their stars on the Walk of Fame before Motley Crue did:

Paula Abdul, Duran Duran, Phil Collins, Herbie Hancock, Tony Orlando, The Rugrats (cartoon characters?!), Rin Tin Tin, Ryan Seacrest, and finally, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Kinda takes some of the prestige out of it to know they all were chosen before you, doesn't it?

As with all other social wrongs, I blame Disney.

Maggie

Ooh That Smell

As I'm sure you can recall, the introduction of the Britney Spears perfume "Curious" last year made many of us flee the cosmetics counter in fear of smelling like stale Funyons and the crotch of a nude, bedazzled bodystocking. Now that her marketability is resting somewhere under K-Fed's sack, we can once again feel safe to return to the cosmetics counter....or can we?

Mariah Carey has announced that she will be launching her own perfume line in the very near future.

I predict a melange of scents, ranging from crushed Prozac, smashed butterfly testicles, and the sweat of Horshack from Welcome Back, Kotter to the fruity, floral, exotic mix of desperation, dead chinchillas, and Gucci pigskin. A summery, fresh scent that reminds you why it's never a good idea to wear a belt around a bulky fur coat or to be the most self-obsessed, narcissistic person on the planet.

In a related story, I will be releasing my own perfume next week called "Douchebag Diva". It will smell like bacon cheeseburgers and hate.

Maggie

p.s. Our next show will be at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale on February 3rd with I Am Stereo. They all smell like a wet t-shirt contest at Summer's on The Beach.

Estne Nihil Sanctum?

I don't think it's bad enough that good shows like Starsky and Hutch and The Dukes of Hazzard have been remade into bad parodies. I think we can do worse, don't you? I think we can do much, MUCH worse. There's been talk of a film version of Magnum P.I. being kicked around Hollywood, and the rumors are spinning as fast as the blades on The Island Hopper. As with any remake, I remain unopposed, so long as the original star is in the movie. Tom Selleck is perfectly capable of reprising his role as Thomas Magnum. He's still in good shape, still sexy, and still a good actor - but you know damn well they're gonna try to cast Ben Affleck, or Josh Hartnett, or Ashton Kutcher as the great Magnum and flush the whole thing down the casting room toilet. Another hot tip - they're talking about casting LL Cool J as T.C. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

If I ever see one teenager point at Ashton Kutcher and say "Hey, look! It's Magnum P.I.!" I will pull out my own eyeballs just so I have something to throw at them. There IS only one Magnum P.I., people, and you can only slight my 80's television sensibilities so much before I go BERSERK.

Maggie

Number 1 Single

You know how sometimes you can have a little snippet of respect left for someone, even though they never really had any major success after that one kind of annoying song on the "Reality Bites" soundtrack back in 1994? And even through their musical and romantic trials and tribulations, you still held that snippet of respect, even after they dated Dweezil Zappa for an extended period of time? Those are some tough-to-remove stains! If only Didi-7 were still around...

So, anyway, the news here is that Lisa Loeb has now turned to the E! channel to find an inseminator...I mean...husband. Her new reality show titled "Number 1 Single" showcases her unique and neverending ability to...wait for it...wear glasses!

There are few things worse than being in your mid 30's and relying on a reality show to slut you up so you can get a watchman for that pesky ol' biological clock. Congratulations, darling. Now you're only two to five years away from a stint at the Betty Ford Clinic, and a one blind date away from settling for Corey Feldman.

Maggie

Who Wins the Most Interesting Facial Hair Award?

Thanks so much to all our friends who came out on Saturday to support your favorite teen-idols-gone-bad - The Freakin' Hott. We had a fantastic time, and it's all thanks to the friendly faces and shaking ayusses out there in front of us.

We love you guys and gals so much for suffering our ridiculous demands and high maintenance egos. It's not every day that you can get your friends to wax your mustache AND get down on all fours so you can use their lower back as a footstool. Special thanks go out to Pete & Pete for most interesting facial hair, Mary and Bobby J for hottest asses, Brent and Vanessa for being Most Likely To Make The Neighbors Succumb, and Michael McKnight for being the best person ever to play Tad on All My Children.

We'll be back downtown on February 3rd to play our favorite place in the world - The Poorhouse - with two great bands: I Am Stereo and Sex Is A Bullfight?. Don't miss it!

Maggie

A Paris Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand

"I just called her ugly and old and told her she was desperate and that she was trying to be famous." - Paris Hilton

I know what you're thinking - to whom was Ms. Hilton referring exactly? Has Future Paris travelled back in time to say this to Present Paris or has Past Paris travelled forward through time to say this to Present Paris or has Future Paris travelled back in time to tell Past Paris to warn Present Paris about Future Paris travelling back to have Past Paris relate this information to Present Paris before Present Paris becomes Past Paris? I'm sure whatever the case may be, the time machine was covered with rainbow Louis Vuitton upholstery, oiled with Astroglide, and reeked of ferret and chihuahua turds and Greek salad dressing...and you are FASCINATED.

As am I. Paris.

Maggie

Line 'em Up!

People like to talk about "gifts that keep on giving", but this week, William Shatner gave the ultimate: He sold his kidney stone to goldenpalace.com for $25,000. As much as I am thrilled at the possibility of owning this piece of urological Star Trek history, I can't help but feel sad that more celebrities aren't selling the physical products of their bodies. You can't even imagine how much I would pay for a Sarah Michele Gellar testicle.

Be that as it may, The Freakin' Hott has nothing to sell yet, but I'm pretty sure that my ego will explode like a diseased appendix soon, so keep those hopes up. I'll be selling the leavin's by the ounce at the Swap Shop. You get a free can of Slim-Fast with purchase. I'm pretty sure Jon's liver is on its last legs as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that to hit the market next Christmas.

Here's the lineup for the City Link Music Festival this Saturday:

MAIN STAGE-STREET (All ages til 11pm then 18+)

6pm Hagus Magagus
7pm Humbert
8pm The Mission Veo
9pm John Ralston
10pm THE FREAKIN' HOTT
11pm Dooms de Pop

Revolution Inside (18+ til 11pm then 21+)

6pm Off on a Tangent
7pm Secret P.E. Club
8pm ShuttleLounge
9pm Mr. Entertainment

Revolution Patio (18+ til 11pm then 21+)

6pm Lefty Lucie
7pm Ject
8pm Truckstop Coffee
9pm The Bittercups
10pm The Remnants
11pm Two Story Double Wide
12am Brendan O'Hara and the Humble Ones
1am The Mary Tyler Whores

Be there, nerd.

Maggie

What A Blow

There's been so much good news lately, it was only a matter of time until the news turned sour. I'm sorry to announce that Paris Hilton has decided, once again, NOT to pose for Playboy magazine.

She insists, "I'll never do it," and offers this rock-solid reason why not: "Because I'm Paris Hilton."

This is devastating. How else are we ever going to find out what she looks like naked? I guess if she WEREN'T Paris Hilton, then maybe we'd have a chance of seeing a few dozen sex tapes of her with various D-List movie folk, pictures hacked from her Sidekick of her getting it on with everything but the kitchen sink, and an endless book of photos of her lifting her dress on red carpets and putting the laffy taffy right there on display like a pack of Bazooka but, alas, she IS Paris Hilton, so there's no chance anything like that could ever happen. Not in this lifetime, buddy.

City Link Music Festival. This Saturday. 6pm to 2am. Downtown Ft. Lauderdale. TFH goes on at 10.

Maggie

Two for The Money

More good news! It's being reported that Kate Moss and Lindsay Lohan showed up at Scores in NYC last week and hopped onstage for a little pole-dancing show of their own! Nobody was really sure at first, and there was speculation that it was just two escaped lemurs from the Brooklyn Zoo, but it was confirmed that it was indeed the "toxic twins" after one of their bodyguards man-handled a photographer who was trying to get a shot of the two as they put on their show for the crowd. I doubt if anyone could see either one of them behind the pole, but that's beside the point.

The paparazzi is truly getting out of hand here. Can't two nice girls who happen to be much-talked about celebrities spend a quiet evening out, gyrating with each other in a sexually suggestive manner on poles in front of a few HUNDRED people at one of the biggest strip clubs in New York without being HARASSED by photographers?!! What is this world coming to?!!!!!

In a related story, Lindsay Lohan was last seen being snorted by Kate Moss.

Come see the musical version of this story at the City Link Music Festival this Saturday in downtown Ft. Lauderdale in front of Revolution. It's a free event! Festival starts at 6pm, The Freakin' Hott will hit the stage at 10pm, so you'll have plenty of time to brush up on your Lindsay Lohan trivia.

Maggie

Hasselh-off the Chain!

Sometimes...dreams come true. Just when you've given up all hope of realizing your wildest fantasies, you get the news you've been waiting for all of your adult life. That's right - David Hasselhoff has filed for divorce from his wife of sixteen years. One can only assume it's because he's been reading my fan letters and studying those pics I sent of myself in that teal spandex catsuit and now he wants to move to Florida and use me as his willing hand-puppet for all eternity.

That reminds me, The City Link Music Festival is happening this Saturday in downtown Ft. Lauderdale. We'll be on the main street stage at 10pm. Look for David Hasselhoff and you'll find me perched atop his sexy, muscular, 100% German-bred forearm of steel. Jealous?

Maggie

"_______ing with The Stars!

Great news! "Dancing with The Stars" has spawned a rip-off show called "Skating with Celebrities"! I know what you're thinking, and I have to agree that the name is pretty creative, too. I don't understand why they didn't just call it "Dancing with The Stars On Ice". I guess THAT would be STUPID. Thank goodness they took the high road. Be that as it may, one can only hope that this is just the beginning of "Dancing with The Stars" rip-offs. I've put a few emails in to a few network executives with the following show ideas:

1. "Clubbing Baby Seals with The Stars" - I think this one would be an excellent vehicle for celebrities who want to project that husky, manly image in order to quell any of those pesky "Friend of Dorothy" rumors. Cast should include Clay Aiken, Tom Cruise, and Al Reynolds.

2. "Getting a Pap Smear with The Stars" - This is one is going to catch that highly-desired male 18-35 market. The "big twist" will be that all of the actresses cast are stars of The Golden Girls with vaginal dryness issues.

3. "Prison Sex with The Stars" - This one has a real "Oz" feeling to it, except that regular folks will be forced to have sex with James Brown, Nick Nolte, and Robert Downey, Jr. while chained to a toilet. The twist will be that you'll be stabbed with a sharpened spoon when you're voted off the show...well, that and the herpes.

4. "Going to The Freakin' Hott Show with The Stars" - Everyday people will go see The Freakin' Hott and I Am Stereo at Dada this Saturday, January 14th, alongside celebrities like Bobby J, The Sheffield Sisters, and That Guy Who's Dating Vanessa, as well as Petes of various ages, sizes, and sexual orientations! Show starts at 11pm.

Maggie

Your Three Hour Movie Sucks

I can think of two things that I would be interested in doing for three hours straight: One is sleeping, and the other is trying on shoes I can't afford at DSW Shoe Warehouse just so I can say I spent the afternoon in $700 heels. I can tell you what I DON'T want to do for three hours straight, and that's watch your stupid two hundred million dollar, "slickly-produced" movie where stuff blows up and Tom Cruise/Will Smith/Brad Pitt saves the day and throws in a kicky one-liner that's both funny and touching and makes the overpaid nouveau-Hollywood actress drop her pants for him after pretending she didn't like him for the entire movie. There's usually a cheeky kid in the mix somewhere too, who adds nothing to the story but makes middle-aged secretaries in the audience who collect Precious Moments figurines go "Awwww." and use phrases like "it really tugs at your heart strings" when describing the movie to their cats when they get home. Let us also not forget the funny and/or vaguely ethnic partner of the main guy who's destined to bite it halfway through the movie so even you macho guys can well up for minute while trying to touch your date's boobs through her Hollister sweater in the back row of the theater.

Note to egomaniacal director: You could have easily shaved an hour and a half off your movie and accomplished the same schmaltz that took you three hours to hack out like a furrball onto the screen. Heck, you could just run a still shot of one of those eighty-five cent posters of a kitten dangling from the clothesline with "Hang in There, Baby!" written across the screen and illicited the same emotional response that you got for your three hour, two hundred million dollar, nauseatingly pedestrian, uber-ironic-cliche', pandering piece of crap wank-job snore-fest.

If you can drag yourself away from the cineplex/crap factory this Saturday, be sure to catch The Freakin' Hott along with I Am Stereo for Popscene at Dada in Delray Beach. Show starts at 11pm and will end approximately two hours and fifty-nine minutes after that.

Maggie

To Wong Foo, You're An Idiot

Sure, I could go on for days about how Patrick Swayze is planning on releasing a rap single, but to be honest with you, I don't have the time or energy to dissect something as ridiculous as Patrick Swayze releasing a rap single. I have more important things to do than to drone away word after word about how he should be buried up to his chest in sand and pelted with VHS tapes of "Roadhouse" or how he should have been shot at with a crossbow with feces on the tip of the arrow after "She's Like the Wind" or how sad it is when people don't realize that they've peaked and go on to make pathetic attempts at getting what I like to call CPR (Comeback Public Relations) only to further humiliate themselves on a national level. I clearly don't have the free time to blather on and on and on about that time he was chosen as People Magazine's Sexist Man Alive and there was a picture of him diving into his pool with the tip of his wiener sticking out from his Speedo like a determined porpoise waiting for a flaming hoop to jump through and he tried to write it off by saying "Oh, those were the strings from the inside of my swim trunks." or how people STILL willingly paid to see him in that Priscilla Queen of The Desert rip-off "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar" piece of crap when he was not even PASSABLE as a drag queen. And don't even get me started on "Black Dog". I SIMPLY DO NOT HAVE THE TIME TO WASTE ON SOMETHING SO PETTY. This is why it will suffice to say that the last time I got reamed out of $7.50 that bad, I at least had a questionably obtained black eye from a male stripper to show for it. That was worth it just for the story...that I later sold to The Enquirer. I won't tell you the stripper's name except to say that it rhymes with "Tustin Jimberlake".

I am a busy person.

Maggie

Lacheyame on You!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. The details on the "kinky" side of Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson's marriage are already surfacing. I'm sure she was probably about as much fun in the sack as a damp mannequin, so it must have required a real effort to keep it interesting in the bedroom. Nick's quoted this week as saying, "Sometimes I did walk in her shoes. It was sort of a kinky thing we liked to get into." Oh to be a fly on the wall. I can only assume they played RuPaul's "Supermodel" the whole time while she beat him with a riding crop made of licorice.

I wonder if, even now, he realizes that she only used that as a means to delay him messing up her hair, and to force him into buying her new Manolo Blahnik's after he stretched hers all out.

When will you boys learn? There's a reason that Barbie dolls aren't anatomically correct. Because Barbie, like Jessica, has better things to do - like tend to her make-up, or "accidentally" rub her boobs against Johnny Knoxville a few hundred times. If you're looking for a REALLY good time, you'd be better off with a Sit and Spin, or maybe Jennifer Tilly. If you're looking for a REALLY, REALLY good time - come to Dada in Delray Beach this Saturday for The Freakin' Hott and I Am Stereo.

Maggie

Dread the Fed

Are you aware that, up until this moment, you have never known true happiness? A tough pill to swallow, I'm sure, but the solution to your sad and pathetic existence lies in a little song called "PopoZão". Oh, you don't know what "PopoZão" is? Hello? It's so totally Kevin Federline's hot new single! Now guess what it's about? Government cheese? Nope! It's all about...wait for it...a girl with a big ass! I should so sue for royalties.

Do you honestly think I would share such a story without giving you actual quotes from "PopoZão"? "I want to see your kitty and a little bit of titty / Girls, don't you worry about all the dough, because a cat is coming straight out of the know / Bring that Brazil booty on the floor / Up, down, all around: Work that ass to the funky sound".

Ah yes. This man...knows sexy. I don't know which part I like best - the part where he rhymes "kitty" with "titty" or the part where he claims to have "dough". Either way, I think I actually became infertile after I read the lyrics and, I don't know how, but twenty bucks is missing from my wallet. I think I've been Federlined! It's either that or I was attacked by a baggy pantsed land shark in a 'do-rag. My purse is all covered in Cheetoh dust! Damn you, Federline! Damn you straight to the end of the unemployment line!!!!

Speaking of 'do rags and Cheetohs, The Freakin' Hott will be playing for Popscene at Dada this Saturday, the 14th, along with the incomparably endowed I Am Stereo. Free show! Get there at 11pm or else.

Maggie

Everybody's Crazy

Everyone was entitled to make a mistake here and there in the 80's. Whether it was junk bonds, or acid wash jeans, or even (gasp) dating Michael Bolton. It was a confusing time for many people: The era of divorce, aerobics, Lisa Lisa and The Cult Jam, and a crazy little thing called crack. The important thing is that we all lived and learned, and thank our lucky stars that no questionable videotapes have ever surfaced. As much as VH1 would like you to believe, you really can't go back to the 80's. This is much-needed advice to Nicolette Sheridan of Desperate Housewives who not only (gasp) dated Michael Bolton in the 80's, but has recently rekindled her relationship with him. How many times does she have to be smacked in the face with a "How Can We Be Lovers If We Can't Be Friends" on adult-contemporary radio before she realizes that no woman can tame that wild estrogen stallion? And didn't he realize the last time they dated that she's actually a man? Kids these days.

Luckily, everyone I dated in the 80's made the mistake of getting in a car with Vince Neil at some point, so they're all pretty much dead now. No chance of running into each other at The Center for High Colonics in Beverly Hills. Whew!

Don't forget - Respectable Street in downtown WPB this Saturday, January 7th with Truckstop Coffee, Gasoline Heart, and Dear and Glorious Physician. $6 - show starts at 9pm.

How can we make love if we can't make amends?

Maggie

Bulimia For The Lazy

I met one of my secret celebrity gossip sources at The Sizzler last night and he informed me that Lindsay Lohan will admit to the world that her drastic weight loss last year was a result of bulimia, as many expected. It got me to thinking about what an effort that must be to have to make yourself hurl a few times a day, knowing how much it could smear your eye makeup to oblivion, and I thought that there must be an easier way. I proceeded to eat raw chicken out of the dumpster outside, and I gotta tell ya, the ensuing food poisoning is doing wonders for my figure - and without the muss and fuss of having to stick foreign objects down my throat. What a time saver! Why didn't I think of this years ago?! Sure, the feeling of faint and tire tread-sized black circles under my eyes are a little inconvenient, but hello? Red Bull and concealer! I'm thinking of writing a book called "No Chance of Digesting That! - The Salmonella Diet".

How about this, young starlets: Instead of taking a spinning class nine times a week, how about you invest some time in a little thing called "self-worth"? If you're worth five million bucks per movie to a film studio, you're worthy of eating a chicken sandwich sometime, too. As much as I loathe Young Hollywood, I loathe watching young girls destroy themselves while trying to live up to impossible standards even more (unless it's Paris Hilton, in which case that's just Darwinism in action).

Assuming I can drag myself away from commode by Saturday, come check out The Freakin' Hott at Respectable Street in downtown WPB. It's worth skipping the spinning class to attend.

Maggie

Class Dismissed!

Guess what?

No, come on...guess?

Allright, since you're not in a guessing mood, I'll go ahead and tell you.

Pairing a $400 Coach purse with a logo t-shirt from The Hustler Store does not a classy outfit make. And while we're at it, constantly referring to yourself as "classy" is not something that people with ACTUAL class do. And while we're on THAT, dancing on top of a bar in downtown Ft. Lauderdale after five too many mojitos is not really the kind of activity in which the upper crust partakes. I know, I know, I read your bumper sticker, and you probably are the "#1 Bitch", but you need to take a down a notch, Skank Azaria. You're making downtown Ft. Lauderdale look even skankier - a feat that has not been thought possible since the departure of Saigon Kick.

We can further discuss the matter at Respectable's in WPB this Saturday. The Freakin' Hott, Truckstop Coffee, Gasoline Heart, and Dear and Glorious Physican - six bucks, 18 & up, show starts 9-ish. Bring a Coach bag and I'll pop you one.

Maggie

Cheeseburger in Paradise: $76.49 plus tax

Please study the list of the top 20 highest-grossing concerts of 2005 below. Note: The amount in the parentheses is the average price per ticket.

1. The Rolling Stones, $162 million ($133.98)
2. U2, $138.9 million ($96.92)
3. Celine Dion, $81.3 million ($136.04)
4. Paul McCartney, $77.3 million ($135.46)
5. Eagles, $76.8 million ($104.17)
6. Elton John, $65.8 million ($102.46)
7. Kenny Chesney, $61.8 million ($54.63)
8. Dave Matthews Band, $57 million ($47.09)
9. Neil Diamond, $47.3 million ($63.02)
10. Jimmy Buffett, $41 million ($76.49)
11. Mötley Crüe, $39.9 million ($46.48)
12. Green Day, $34.8 million ($38.07)
13. Toby Keith, $31.6 million ($46.11)
14. Rascal Flatts, $28.2 million ($34.92)
15. Bruce Springsteen, $26.3 million ($81)
16. Gwen Stefani, $24.2 million ($54.46)
17. Coldplay, $24.1 million ($40.80)
18. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, $23.6 million ($38.05)
19. Barry Manilow, $22.7 million ($153.93)
20. Anger Management 3 Tour, $21.6 million ($64.03)

What kind of sick, twisted world are we living in where Jimmy Buffett charges almost twice as much for a concert ticket as Motley Crue??!! The last time I checked there was no pyro, no big-boobied women in spandex, no rotating drum cages, and certainly no chance of sleeping with that fat guy who used to be Vince Neil, at a Jimmy Buffett concert. Not unless "Cheeseburger in Paradise" has evolved into "Girls, Girls, Girls", which I don't think it has. As a matter of fact, I think the laws of nature forbid it.

Oh yeah - and Kenny Chesney?. If you paid $54.63 to watch him pretend to be a sensitive bald man, you either:

A. Don't know what actual country music is.
B. Drive a mini-van.
C. Totally suck.
D. All of the above. Go buy a Charlie Daniels album, you soccer MILF.

Compared to those ticket prices, a mere six bucks is chump change to come see The Freakin' Hott this Saturday, January 7th, at Respectable's in West Palm Beach with Truckstop Coffee, Gasoline Heart, and Dear and Glorious Physician. They won't charge you eight bucks for a beer, forty dollars for a t-shirt, and twenty scrilla for parking, either, so you won't have to take out that second mortgage in order to attend.

Maggie

The Bitter Bitch 2005 Wrap-Up

Banned in 26 countries, feared by the famous and stupid, revered by Osmonds everywhere...it's time for the Bitter Bitch 2005 Wrap-Up!

1. Celebrity (?) Breakups: Nick and Jessica, Nicole Ritchie and That Guy, Nicolette Sheridan and That Guy Who Didn't Realize That She's Actually A Man, Brad and Jennifer, Girl-Paris and Boy-Paris, Tara Reid and Her Old Boobs, Jude and Sienna, Lindsay Lohan and Food of Any Kind, Britney Spears and Her Self-Worth, and myself and the Kool-Aid Man. Sugary bastard.

2. Fashion Trends: The Ugg Boot continued to be a mainstay in skank-fashion, as well as the sequined sack purse, pointy-toed flat shoes, those drapy tops that show your rapidly descending boobs, the visible thong at church, and - my favorite - the gauchos. My mother and I discussed gauchos just a few days ago, and she informed me that they used to be called "women's work pants" decades ago before women could wear pants in the workplace. Guess what? Our mothers fought throughout the 1970's so that YOU could someday wear pants all the live-long day, so ditch the gauchos, skank. You look like a manta-ray with a spray-on tan, you flappery, orangey freak.

3. Television: Desperate Housewives took a dive in the ratings, mostly because it's crap, but also because people began to grow tired of watching a bunch of skeletons romp around in terry cloth track suits and having indiscrimate sex with the help. My Name is Earl is the best new show on TV this year, even though Jason Lee's stock has been somewhat diminished in my eyes since I found out he is a rabid Scientologist, and therefore, an idiot.

4. Crazies: This brings us to Tom Cruise, who left planet Earth sometime in 2005 in favor of living with space people who approve of his continued rampant efforts to remain closeted at all costs. In a related story, Katie Holmes was impregnated via turkey baster.

5. Music: The Black Eyed Peas continued to stink up the charts, ripping off as many mid-to-late 80's artists as possible before actually morphing into a four-headed Stacey Q Voltron-type creature. Fergie continued to wet her pants on stage with reckless abandon, and make cameo appearances on television as a stripper, a hooker, a stripper who hooks, and a hooker who strips. Mariah Carey also made a comeback, despite the fact that nobody asked for it, wanted it, or even wished it upon their worst enemy. Many small mammals were harmed in the process.

6. The Freakin' Hott played shows with the likes of Velvet Revolver, Hoobasmell, The Black Crowes, and Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers in 2005...but actually had more fun playing with Humbert, John Ralston, The Sloppy High Fives, Timb the Ubiquitous, The Remnants, Two Story Double Wide, I Am Stereo, Truckstop Coffee, Catalonia, The Brand, and The Fabulous Dik Shuttle Lounge. I also purchased somewhere between one and twenty pairs of pink shoes at various discount shopping outlets, no pair of which look alike (despite those who would tell you otherwise).

7. Bandito grew pubes, after waiting almost 56 years for the hormones to kick in. Way to go!

I could really go on all day, but I have more pink shoes to buy that don't look like any of the other pink shoes I currently own.

Happy New Year!
Maggie