Who Do You Have To Blow To Get a Raid Around Here?

Let's see if you can figure out what's wrong with this sentence:

"...the FBI and Massachusetts authorities raided a Westfield, Mass. home Tuesday night and seized the stolen photos of a baby shower held by Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt."

Far be it from me to come off as "bitchy" here or anything, but where the hell was the FBI was when I had those questionable photos of me perched atop a "kinda" hogtied, "somewhat" passed-out Andrew Ridgely from Wham stolen from the local Walgreen's? And justice for all? My ASS.

I think I'll start using reverse psychology to rectify the situation. I'm going to start dropping off my film along with a note that says, "Heads will roll if you don't validate my ego by stealing these pictures and selling them to the media. If it helps, I just donated fifty cents to save Screech's house, so you can't call me a homewrecker just because I usually end up humping most of my married co-stars."

No shows this weekend - our CD Release show is next Friday, the 7th, at The Poorhouse.

Maggie

Sell Your Cooter While It's HOT!

Hi. How are you? That's great. How am I? ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED. Thanks for asking.

Ashlee Simpson has turned down Playboy Magazine's "alleged" offer of four million dollars. If you look at her management contract with her dad it probably specifies that the Jessica/Ashlee Jerk-Off Ratio should gradually increase in Ashlee's favor until Jessica's new album "drops" this August, then Ashlee will be swept under the bed again like so many crusty tissues and dog-eared copies of Cosmo that you stole from your dentist's office. I predict this four million dollar offer will be slashed down to about $1.25 by this time next year, which is fantastic, because I just LOVE a good vagina blow-out sale.

I wish they would break these offers down by the piece and actually put price tags on them in the pictures.

Face: $220,000
Old Nose: $4.15
New Nose: $500,000
Left Arm: $40,000
Right Arm: $60,000
Left Breast: $1,200,000
Right Breast: $499,990 (reduction due to what could be a nippular asymmetry)
Left Upper Thigh: $400,000
Right Upper Thigh: $380,000 (reduction due to ingrown hair)
Left Ass Cheek: $600,000
Right Ass Cheek: minus $600,000 (reduction due to "hygiene issues")
Vag: $1,000,000 (pending labiaplasty operation)
Toenails: $6.85 (Subject to toe-jam inspection)

They should totally hire me to run Playboy Magazine. I would turn that mother OUT.

Maggie

A Pubic Affair

Jessica Simpson has made a new music video for her upcoming single "A Public Affair" which can best be described as "my worst nightmare". Jessica, Eva Longoria, Christina Applegate, and Christina Milian are doing some kind of horrible retro throwback rollerskank/skankerderby theme directed by none other than trouser-snake extraordinaire Brett Ratner. Yuck - with an extra uck.

I saw a clip of the "making of" this new video and was immediately overcome with memories of middle school, where my late-blooming clutch-the-wall ego was pelted by the bra-wearing backwards-skating techniques of five girls named Jennifer who devoted the bulk of their adolescent years to figuring out newer and better ways to make my life a living hell and the most attractive way to wear a scrunchie while giving an over-the-Cavaricci's HJ in the back of the movie theater during a matinee showing of "Coming to America" all the while never realizing the irony of their actions when combined with their choices of movie titles. I don't even want to imagine what they were doing during "Short Circuit 2". To give you an idea of how long ago all of this was, I distinctly remember arguing with my friend Rebecca about whether the singer from that hot new band "Guns 'n Roses" was "fine".

In a related story, Axl Rose was detained in Sweden yesterday for biting a man. I love a man who's not afraid to be detained for biting a man in Sweden. I guess that settles the old "fine" argument, huh Rebecca? You always were a stupid bitch.

Maggie

Don't forget - The Freakin' Hott CD Release Party at the Poorhouse July 7th!

Not Funny.

Hey, hey, hey there - Erectile Dysfunction is no laughing matter. It's a serious medical problem for millions of men and it is nothing to laugh at.

Unless it happens to Rush Limbaugh.

Rush was detained at the airport in good ol' West Palm Beach, FL trying to board a flight with a bottle of Viagra that wasn't prescribed to him. He alleges that his doctor's name is listed on the bottle as the patient name in order to give ol' Rush-bo some privacy when it comes to his lifeless, flaccid, useless, broken penis. NOT funny, people. NOT. FUNNY.

Let's discuss the real matter at hand here. Who the hell is willing to have sex with Rush Limbaugh?! The mere thought is making me want to unzip my skin and scrub it with liquid nitrogen.

Maggie

Whore-Ay for Hollywood

I'm a fan of the diversity of the selection process for the Hollywood Walk of Fame, mostly because it's a culmination of everything that's wrong with the Hollywood Walk of Fame. This year's recipients includes a wide array of stars, but I'd like to compare and contrast the two that jumped out at me first: Michael Caine and Leann Rimes. Both talented artists and performers, sure, but on par with one another?

Michael Caine = Appeared in over 120 films since 1956.

Leann Rimes = Entered show business in 1996. (In case you're counting, that's forty years after Michael Caine did his first film role.)


Michael Caine = Has won two Academy Awards, and has been nominated for six Academy Awards in total.

Leann Rimes = Actually admits to having recorded the song "Can't Fight The Moonlight" for the "Coyote Ugly" movie soundtrack.


Michael Caine = Actually has been friggin' KNIGHTED by the Queen of England.

Leann Rimes = Posed topless for the cover of "Blender" Magazine to show everyone how "empowered" she is now that she's all grown up. Kudos.

Please send your hate mail to:

Hell
c/o Juicy Couture
666 Bulimia Way
Salinas Implantas, DUH 90210

I'll be waiting for you there in a cami top, a "kicky" pair of terry cloth gauchos, mesh moccasins, and carrying a quart of bronzer in my sequined sack purse.

Maggie

The Shocker!

Hollywood is a place where anything can happen. Most people learn this the hard way AFTER they get herpes from a casting couch. Some people learn it by marrying Ahmet Zappa. I think the former is the more desirable "catch".

In news that is so shocking I can barely finish this morning's Mudslide and handful of Dexatrim - Selma Blair and Ahmet Zappa are divorcing after two years of marriage. I didn't laugh when I heard they got engaged after dating for a week. I didn't laugh when they got married after dating for six months. I didn't laugh when I watched "The Sweetest Thing" (mostly because I was too busy scowling and muttering "Somebody actually put money behind this piece of crap?"). I'll tell you when I laughed - when an article about said divorce referred to Ahmet Zappa as an "actor-rocker".

I don't want to split hair extensions here, but I'm pretty sure that in order to be an "actor-rocker" you have to both "act" and "rock" - two things that I've never witnessed Ahmet Zappa actually doing. If you ever had the misfortune of watching Dweezil's and his show "Happy Hour" on USA a few years back, you know what I'm talking about. It was like wearing a damp suit of armor and riding an electric porcupine, only less endurable.

Maggie

Fiction Friction

Sometimes I wonder if television could get any worse these days, what with all of the "Big Brother All-Stars Reunion"s and "America's Got Talent"s out there, and then something comes along that completely redeems the entire medium.

Corey Haim (boi-oi-oi-oi-oing!) and Corey Feldman (blech) are teaming up to do a new show called "The Coreys". It will be loosely based on their lives, but the characters they'll be playing will be "fictional versions" of themselves. I guess the production assistants willl have to go out and buy some "fictional" methodone for the set, too.

I would be more than happy to be the "fictional" Corey Haim stalker, as I'm sure you're aware of my "fictional" unhealthy lustful feelings for him. I still send bad hair vibes to Heather Graham to this day because she got to make out with him in "License to Drive" and didn't even appear to enjoy it. I once dated a guy for a year who beat me with a garden hose and made me scrub his toilet with my toothbrush because he looked a teensy bit like Corey Haim in the right light. But my devotion is not up for debate here. The Corey Haim tattoo on my "fictional" ass speaks for itself.

There's no tentative start date as of yet, but I hope to have a Corey Countdown Clock up soon.

Maggie

Play That Skanky Music, Skank

Some of you might be too young to remember the movie "Silkwood", but for those of you who do remember it, I'd just like to say that I feel like it would take a wire-brush shower to feel clean again after watching this Paris Hilton video.

http://us.video.aol.com/video.index.adp?mode=1&pmmsid=1668789

I know a lot of people think that musicians listen to their own music incessantly - in the car, at a party, while they're pretending to have sex with John Travolta when they're actually getting it on with Halle Berry - but I don't know any musicians that ever want to listen to their own music. It's like flipping through an album of photos of yourself getting kicked in the crotch by a donkey over and over and over and over again. You obsess over every little detail that you wish you could have changed, or how track 7 makes you look fat, or how the lyrics in track 2 should have been changed to reflect your feelings about that Benji guy on "So You Think You Can Dance?" who thinks he can sweat the gay right out of himself if he builds enough churches in Mexico.

Bottom line - There's nothing worse than "grooving" to your own record - I don't care HOW many times you've been videotaped fellating Rick Salomon.

Maggie

Et Tu, Firecrotch?

As you well know, I am the last person on Earth to defend the actions of Lindsay Lohan. If life has taught me anything, it's that she sucks.

That being said, and with my recent talk of under-used celebrity status, I was reading about how Lindsay Lohan has her bodyguard "shoo away" any women from her VIP table that she feels are better looking than her and it got me to thinking. What would I do if I were faced with such a situation? I don't think being "shooed away" would really get the job done, do you? It's a crazy botoxed rat race out there, and you have to be the best - and BEAT the best - if you want to win the attention of the likes of Steve-O and Nick Carter. Here's my plan for keeping these skele-vultures away from your table at Hyde in LA:

1. Keep a tape measure handy for use in determining the bust size of your fellow female party-goers. Anyone over a B-cup gets shot in the face with a cannon and left for dead in the alley.

2. Check ID's as they approach your table. Any women under 25 get acid thrown in their eyes and are then thrown into a nearby crocodile pit.

3. Inspect the tags inside their clothing. If she's wearing a more expensive outfit than you she gets a roundhouse kick to the face from Chuck Norris and is then covered in honey and tied to a tree next to a hive of Killer Bees.

4. Better dancer? She won't be after you set up that bear trap and dump a bucket of poison dart frogs on her head! Take that, whore!

5. There's no amount of competing sparkling and flirtatious conversation that can't be nixed with the help of our old friend "the piranha tank". It's as under-used these days as the term "firecrotch", and I for one think that's a damn shame.

Let's keep our eye on the ball here, people. New Hollywood is really starting to bore me. I might have to start reading the actual news again.

Maggie

Tithe Me Up, Tithe Me Down

I was reading a story this weekend about how Screech is trying to keep his house out of foreclosure by selling t-shirts for $15 ($20 if autographed), and it got me to thinking about what I need to do to get people to help me out with my expenses. Sure, you all like to gawk at my humongous ass and see how many minutes it jiggles after you smack it, but do you have any idea how many bacon double cheeseburgers I have to eat to maintain it? And do you think shimmery crease-proof eyeshadows just grow on trees? If people are willing to put their hard-earned cash towards Screech's $250,000 defaulted mortgage, I don't think it would be too much to ask for you to pony up a few grand for me to get some much-needed Burger King and Sephora essentials.

I just imagined a Sephora store with a Burger King IN it. Dare to dream.

No shows this week. We're watching basketball.

Maggie

Control Yourself

There is absolutely no reason for you to be so upset that the next film installment of "The Dukes of Hazzard" is going to be released straight to video. I know you had your hopes up - we all did - but maybe this will teach you a valuable life lesson about not always getting what you want. No, really, please stop crying and threatening to throw yourself in the path of Charlie Sheen's penis. It's not going to help matters. The best thing for you to do right now is to curl up with a pint of Ben and Jerry's and eat yourself sick. Then wash it down with a few handfuls of Ex-Lax so you won't be called "zaftig" by Joan Rivers on the red carpet at the premiere of whatever piece of crap Brett Ratner is putting out this week. You might want to pop a few valium too so you can look Jeremy Piven right in the eye and not laugh at how his hairline has managed to creep about five inches forward in as many years.

Get your act together. You're embarrassing yourself.

No shows this weekend. That should give you plenty of time for reflection.

Maggie

The Star Treatment

In case you didn't hear, an employee of Victoria's Secret is reporting that Britney Spears came in a couple of days ago looking for some red thongs. I'm not sure how thong underwear works with a pregnant belly, but maybe she was buying them for her grandmother or something. So Britney gets to the register, pays for her items, smells a stinky one, and lays her baby on the floor next to the register, changes his diaper, and then shoves the dirty diaper at the woman behind the register who, thankfully, refused to take it from her.

Come on now, Britney. Seriously? If you're gonna do that, you might as well go all the way. You should have changed the diaper on TOP of the register, grabbed one of those overpriced negligees and used it as a baby wipe, smushed the dirty diaper in the cashier's face when she refused to take it, exacted revenge on the cashier's by contracting a hitman to snuff out her family and friends, taken the employees of Mrs. Field's Cookies hostage and sacrificed the baby to the gods of the Snickerdoodle, burned down the Orange Julius stand, declared herself the Empress of Rome, and used the public bathroom and left pee on the seat. Gross!

I'm just sick and tired of people under-using their celebrity status.

Maggie

The Sassy Infant Look

Sometimes I like to read the entertainment news and make wild assumptions based on the headlines without actually reading the story. It makes all of those stories about Tori Spelling being a turtle-faced homewrecker whore that much more interesting.

That being said, here is today's "Headline Assumption":

"Baby Shiloh Inspires New Fashion Trend"

I'm sure it's probably some THRILLING story about how the Brangelina miracle child is wearing the latest in sweatshop-free cloth diapers or some such nonsense, but I'd like to take a few steps further and assume that women are running out in droves right now and getting their heads shaved, their umbilical cord nubbins reattached, and un-learning bowel control. Come on girls! A man wants a woman he can take care of!

And to think, I worked all these years to become independent, never realizing it was just a fad.

Maggie

Upcoming Shows

We've got TWO cd release shows lined up for the debut of "Slip on The Lips" - the first full-length album from your favorite teen m-idols The Freakin' Hott. Each one promises to be an evening of rock 'n roll debauchery AND multiple girdle tugs and lip gloss applications. And both of these shows are FREE!

Schedule is as follows:

July 7th
The Poorhouse
Official Broward CD Release Party
Ft. Lauderdale


August 4th
Brogue's Pub
Official Palm Beach CD Release Party
Lake Worth

Come out and get your hands on our first full-length album "Slip on The Lips" before they're gone! We've only pressed a limited number of copies, so if you wait too long they'll be sold out and you'll have to wait for another pressing, and then you'll say, "Maggie, I didn't know there were only a limited number of cd's! What can I do to get one now?" and I'll say, "Tough luck! Maybe you need to get your priorities straight, Grandma!"

Maggie

Dave Navarro Still Eats It

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that I began to loathe Dave Navarro, but it was probably sometime in the area of that whole "'Til Death Do Us Part" show that showcased he and Carmen Electra's wedding. It was either that, or that time he ruined an entire Red Hot Chili Peppers record and talked Anthony Kiedis into wearing high-waisted flame-y vinyl pants. Although, come to think of it, it might have been around the time that he was born, but I did give him his fifteen minutes' worth during his time with Jane's Addiction. After all, "Nothing's Shocking" changed my angst-ridden ninth grade life.

So Dave Navarro, along with Jane's Addiction members Stephen Perkins and Chris Chaney, has formed a new band (with former MTV VJ Steve Isaacs handling the frontman duties) called "Panic Channel". Unfortunately, he's come out and said that between his new "band" (ha ha) and his super AWESOME job hosting this season's "Rock Star" show on CBS (ha ha times infinity), he and Carmen Electra just "don't have time" to have babies.

I, for one, feel cheated. I was so looking forward to reading the tabloid reports about how he's having Jean-Paul Gaultier custom-design a mini feather boa and latex diaper for his wolverine-spawn's quasi-burlesque christening into The Infant Pussycat Dolls as coached by skankalumnus "Moms" Electra.

I love the idea of Dave telling this kid how Mom and Dad met. "Well, a couple of years after your mom finished being Prince's f*ckdoll, and after I was done making out with Perry Farrell and Anthony Kiedis, we met and fell in MTV-subsidized love where we told the whole world how we celebrated our wedding night by popping some Viagra and seeing how many weights we could hang from your mom's nipple rings before her implants popped."

Maggie

Apocalypse WOW!

I know a lot of you were disappointed that the apocalypse didn't happen this past Tuesday, but I'm here to tell you that there's still hope for your hopelessness! If you read the Bible very carefully, you would know that the real sign that the end is near is when Michael Bolton sings a duet with Nicolette Sheridan. Well guess what?

Michael Bolton has recorded a duet with his fiancee Nicolette Sheridan on his new cd "Bolton Swings Sinatra". I'll give you a moment to laugh at how stupid that title is, and for Frank Sinatra to roll over in his well-fortified coffin...

...

...

...

...

Okay, moving on. Michael has described Nicolette's singing voice as "breathy". I'm sure the first word he came up with was "gruff", but he didn't want to send up any red flags about that the fact that she's a dude. I'm sure the experience of having her balls taped to her inner thigh for those sexy car-wash scenes on "Desperate Housewives" is humiliating enough.

In a related story, be sure to check out the sassy duet I did with the vaguely Kenny G-ish guy from Color Me Badd. It's what we in the business like to call "money".

Maggie

My Love Costs $13,280 Per Page

You know how some guys do really cheesy stuff to impress a woman and all the women around her go "Awwww. He is so SWEET!" when all they're really thinking is "How many hours of Lifetime has this asshole been watching? Does he know NOTHING about what women really want?". And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the guy who "surprises" his girlfriend by sending her a balloon bouquet at work that says "I Wuv You" and renting "The Notebook" and filling her bathtub with Hershey's Kisses along with a note that says "Now that I've showered you with kisses..." in the thinly-veiled hope that such behavior will be rewarded with some backdoor action or some such female-dreaded activity. Are you calling me cynical? I've been called worse. Moving on.

So Marc Anthony took out a $13,280 full-page ad in Variety Magazine to declare his love for Jennifer Lopez. AND it's laid out like an awards show script. Now, to me this screams "Sorry you walked in on me banging the housekeeper", but again, I'm somewhat cynical when it comes to cheesy romantic gestures. Judge for yourself.



Fade In:
Ext. Century Plaza - Los Angeles, CA - Evening
Int. Ballroom - Women in Film Presents The 2006 Crystal and Lucy Awards

Enter: The Most Beautiful Woman in the World
Jennifer Lopez glows as she glides across the stage to accept the Crystal Award

Cut to: Marc Anthony
Her proud husband sitting in the audience aware of how lucky he is to be with the love of his life and sharing in this moment.

Cut to: Jennifer at the podium as she shares a stolen moment with him.

Cut to: Marc Anthony (mouthing) "Here's to never waking up, baby. You deserve it. I love you.



Thoughts? Opinions? Am I way off-base here?

Maggie

The Reason You Suck at Life

Many people have grown up in the shadow of a overachieving sibling and become withering piles of emotional jelly that make Paul Reiser look like Vince Gallo. Many people spend years in therapy trying to climb out from under the weight of these confidence-shattering blood relatives only to find that they really do suck at life. With all of the Brangelina "Chosen One" news, can you imagine how worthless Woody Harrelson's new baby must feel? And they're not even related! I can only imagine the terrible tenth grade poetry this kid is surely going to write. What the hell? I've got time - let's make some up right now:


Locked in a world of "Cheers" reunions and Larry Flynt impressions
Dad blames the swollen egos of Ted Danson and Oliver Stone for his youthful transgressions
I have no one to blame, but my mother's careless womb
I've been to Brangelina's house
And Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt has a WAY bigger room
So to you all the kids all across the land
Take it from me, hemp activist C-List celebrity parents just don't understand

Maggie

The Empress's New Nose

Some of you may have noticed my absence from blogging as of late, and it's due to a combination of this bizarre cold-from-hell I've been fighting for almost two weeks and a general social withdrawing weirdness thing that I do from time to time. What can I say - chicks are weird. It's a wonder I've been able to get out of bed to come to work as the human snot machine, so you can imagine how much I felt like writing about Ashlee Simpson's new nose.

In band news, our cd is shrinkwrapped and ready to go. We'll be holding two official CD release parties in early July - one in Palm Beach county and one in Broward - and hopefully we'll have some more t-shirts and whatnot by then as well. The album is called "Slip on The Lips" and has ten tracks featuring your favorites like "Brass Snatch" and "Rotten Apple" as well as some of our more rare songs like "Old Weird America" and "Buttonfly". The album was recorded at Hoverbug Studios and was mixed by the brilliant Christopher Moll (The Postmarks, See Venus, Color Me Badd) and even features the shreddery of one Randall "The Scandal" Gentry. And if that weren't enough, every album includes one free kick in the crotch from yours truly.

So Ashlee has a new nose. Hurrah.

Maggie