The ROCK Boat!!

My calendar must be ten kinds of screwed up today, because I just read about a cruise called "The Rock Boat" that's featuring scorching performances by the likes of Sister Hazel, Better Than Ezra, and Collective Soul. It's funny, because I don't recall it being 1996, but somehow it inexplicably is! I guess I should take off these low rise jeans and get my Mudd high-waisters back out. And has anyone seen my lug sole pumps and my velvet t-shirt?

And, come on, "The Rock Boat"? I would let it go if AC/DC or Joan Jett and The Blackhearts were playing, but *Collective Soul? COLLECTIVE FREAKIN' SOUL???

I'd like to know what the majority of the passengers are going to look like, too. I bet there'll be more people wearing Fukengruven t-shirts than at a Nerd Convention for Dorks, or worse, a taping of MTV's The Grind.

*Off-topic but true story - my friend Anne won tickets to see Collective Soul at The Edge in Lauderdale ten years ago from 103.1 "The Buzz" and the tickets included a "Meet and Greet" session with the band before the show. We got our fine 20 year old selves all dolled up and waited in the green room for them to come in, with about as much anticipation as a person could have considering we're talking about Collective Soul here, and a bunch of short guys with thick Georgia accents came in, shook our hands, were totally polite, and even complimented me on my shoes. All in all, really nice guys.

What's the point, you ask? The point is that this little anecdote is one of the most humiliating stories I've ever told about myself. Getting dressed up to meet Collective Soul?! There are many, many more embarrassing ones, but I'll save them for another day. I'll give you a hint - one of them involves me jumping up and down with a Polaroid camera in a spandex dress at a Firehouse concert in 1991. Firehose, you say?

Sadly, no. FireHOUSE. Judge not lest ye be judged. Who am I kidding? I'm going to judge you no matter what. You should have thought about that before you left the house wearing gauchos and sequined mesh backless slippers.

Maggie

Rock Star: My Two And a Half Dads

Just when you thought you'd heard the last of Rock Star Supernova, I have excellent news to share.

Remember when that whole courtroom battle thing happened when the television show "Rock Star Supernova" was in development, and the original punk band from California named "Supernova" sued producer Mark Burnett and CBS for using their name? Oh, you don't remember? You were probably doing something important like counting your gold coins on Warcraft or wandering the streets wondering where it all went wrong for Peter Scolari. Your life is really exciting. So anyway, the judge in the case decided that CBS could use the name "Rock Star Supernova" because it was a television show and not a band, however, he also ruled that no other "band" could use the name Supernova besides the original members of the California punk band Supernova. Got that?

This left Tommy Lee, Gilby Clarke, and Jason Newsted in a bit of a bind. What to name the new band? What moniker could best describe the joining of such unquestionable legends of rock and roll? Could mere words even begin to touch on the staggering genius of Gilby Clarke's hit and miss guitar work on the hit GNR album "The Spaghetti Incident"? How about Tommy Lee's work on Pamela Anderson's liver enzymes? And what about Jason Newsted's ability to make his face look like a catcher's mitt even while playing a power pop Butch Walker throwaway? Top of his game, people. Top of his game. I'm sure James Hetfield cries himself to sleep every night over losing him...while rolling on top of about a hundred million dollars in royalties.

I've spent the past week, up every night, pacing the hallways outside of my heavily-fortified panic room filled with Swedish Fish and cardboard cutouts of Richard Marx, wondering what could be done to solve this very serious problem. Just when I thought I could stand no more, I read a press release that saved my sanity and, potentially, my very existence.

This new band will not be calling themselves Supernova. The actual band name will be Rock Star Supernova.

This will ensure their success, well after the television show, seeing as their band name IS a television show. And by "success" I mean "complete and total failure". I can only hope this will open the gates to more of the same. I can't wait to change our band name to Two And a Half Men, although Wilkins is begging that we change it to My Two Dads.

No shows this weekend. Use that time to think about what you've done.

Maggie

Why You Hatin'?

There are occasions when the celebrity news is as boring as Matthew Perry's comeback, and this is when I find myself waxing philosophical about waxing. Today's celebrity news is eons away from that fluff, or lack thereof as the case may be.

Kevin Federline, after finally landing a record deal, has decided to NOT include his (ha-ha) hit "Popozao" on his new (ha-ha) record. Instead he is recording a duet with his wife and Vessel of Trailer Spawn, Britney Spears. I Googled the lyrics and, sadly, there were none to be found, so I had to settle for making up my own.

Britney:

Boy you done planted me with your seed twice
I put a do-rag on the fetus so it don't get lice
My fame is so old that it's covered in rust
But I'll take a lick just in case it's Cheetoh dust
Word
Uh Huh
Get Busy
Why you hatin'?

Kevin:

I love you Birtney
Do you love me
Cuz I put a new Ferrari on your Visa-Vee
I can give you things that money can't buy
(But that's mostly because I have no money)
Girl, you is FLY!
Gimme your heart and I'll give you my rhymes
You can polish my bishop while I polish yo' dimes
Word
Uh huh
Get Busy
Why you hatin'?

Britney:

I gave you two sons and you gave me the bills
I'll be taking TrimSpa if I can finance the pills
My bank done called and said I'm overdrawn
Cuz you been buying loops at K-mart like the day is long
Word
Uh huh
Get Busy
Why you hatin'?

Kevin:

I love you Birtney
Do you love me
I gots a George Foreman Grill off the QVC
You can give me things that money do buy
The total cost with shipping foty-fo' ninety-five
Gimme a million and I'll bring you the change
Gotta stop at CVS to buy some cream for this mange
Yo when did Neosporin cost a brotha ten grand
I guess the rest of your change musta fell out my hand
Word
Uh Huh
Get Busy
Why you hatin'?

Maggie

Integrity...and Your Cooter

It makes perfect sense that Scarlett Johannsen is discussing, at length, her recent Brazilian wax. I mean, come on. She's in MOVIES for crying out loud! It stands to reason that she would be publicly discussing her personal pubic grooming habits. It makes SENSE. It's like that time I called that press conference to alert the media that I had the Burger King logo airbrushed on my thighs. Doesn't the public DESERVE to know such information? And, hey, why wait for Barbara Walters to confront you with the subject? Just fax a scanned copy of the hairy, used wax muslin strips to your publicist's office and they'll take it from there!

Okay, I'll play the Devil's (Food) Advocate here and pose the following: Don't you think that this information is WAY too personal, is none of anybody's business, and threatens any kind of integrity one has managed to garner in their career?

I'd really love to dig much deeper on the subject, but I have a Yoo-Hoo colonic appointment at 3:00 that I have to get to. I'll post the pictures and audio later.

Maggie

We had a fantastic time this weekend with Zombies Organize!, Tenderfoot, and Pyrojet. Thanks so much to the bands and to everyone who came out. We'll do it again real soon!

Hungry Eyes

Super-Appropriate-Dad Joe Simpson is planning on further exploiting Jessica Simpson's proclaimed "Double-D's" by opening a chain of restaurants called "Daisy Dukes". Here's the part where I make up the menu:

Appetizer:
Steamed Breast Wontons - soft, doughy cushions filled with all white meat chicken and drizzled with honey-ginger mamma-lade and garnished with incest shavings. Add $1 to substitute "Pork".

Entree:
Bitchin' Rack of Ribs** served ON the glass with a side of Hush Sweater-Puppies and a naughty, naughty pickle spear called "The Big Joe" that keeps "accidentally" falling onto your lap
**Moist Towelette in the shape of panties included

Dessert:
Coconut Milk Pillows with Cherr...you have a boner for your daughter.

Maggie

THE FREAKIN' HOTT WILL BE "SERVICING" YOU ALL WEEKEND LONG!

Friday, Sept. 22nd - The Freakin' Hott with Tenderfoot and Pyrojet at Respectable's in WPB, 18 and up, $5 cover, doors open at 8pm.

Saturday, Sept. 23rd - The Freakin' Hott with Tenderfoot and Zombies Organize! at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale, 21 and up, no cover, first band goes on at 11.

Wild Orchids Couldn't Drag Me Away

I remember the good ol' days, when Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl" was the worst song I'd ever heard. And as terrible as it was, with the recent release of Fergie's solo album, I now find myself longing for the days when the lyrics were shit AS WELL as the shit was bananas. B-A-N-A-N....I can't even bring myself to write it. It just hurts too much.

Without further adieu, here are the lyrics to Fergie's "London Bridge". We'll discuss some key points after the presentation.


Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit
When I come to the clubs, step aside
Pop the seeds, don't be hating me in the line
V.I.P because you know I gotta shine
I'm Fergie Ferg
Give me love you long time

All my girls get down on the floor
Back to back drop it down real low
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho
Because you know what, I don't give a fuck
So here we go!

[Chorus (x2)]
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London want to go down
Like London London be going down

Drinks start pouring
And my speech start slowing
Everybody start looking at you
The Grey Goose got the girl feeling loose
Now I wishing that I didn't wear these shoes
It's like everytime I get up on the dude
Papparazzi put my business in the news
And I'm gonna get up out my face (oh, shit)
Before I turn around and spray your ass with mace (oh, shit)
My lips make you want to have a taste (oh, shit)
You got that? I got the bass


I'll give you a second to get out your notebooks...

1. I think it's a good idea to start a song off by saying "Oh shit" a few times, mostly because it makes you sound really smart. Plus, you throw a few more "Oh shit's" at the end and - BAM! - instant lyrical cohesion.

2. I, too, am a lady despite my penchant for dancing like a ho. And not giving a fuck? You can't buy that kind of class on the dance floor. It's a God-given gift, like the ability to stop doing delicious meth after being unceremoniously kicked off of Kids Incorporated.

3. Thank heavens for "Grey Goose" - can you imagine having to find a synonym for "loose" that rhymes with "Popov"? Talk about dodging a lyrical bullet!

4. Also a fantastic idea to have a line that includes the words "spray your ass" and then have the following line contain the words "have a taste". Who would have thought that Fergie was a GG Allin fan? Certainly not yours truly!

5. All of this aside, I do have to give her serious props for having "the bass". I'm going to assume she means the fish, and I can tell you from experience, NOT an easy fish to catch. This also explains why she smells like a bait shop.

6. Oh, and according to the children's song, London Bridge doesn't go down...it falls down. The use of poetic license here is astounding. I feel challenged as both a songwriter, and a Bret Michaels impersonator. Seems like there's nothing left to do but urinate on myself and work on my tan.

Maggie

Friday, Sept. 22nd - The Freakin' Hott with Tenderfoot and Pyrojet at Respectable's in WPB, 18 and up, $5 cover, doors open at 8pm.

Saturday, Sept. 23rd - The Freakin' Hott with Tenderfoot and Zombies Organize! at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale, 21 and up, no cover, first band goes on at 11.

You Know What Time It Is...

Seeing as I'm just getting over a cold, I thought this would be a good time to bring up the following grievance:

The word you're looking for is LOZENGE.

What'd you say? Right, right. Lozenger.

Do you SEE the letter 'R' in the word LOZENGE???

And furthermore, the word Lozenge actually means "oval". Does "Ovaler" make sense to you?

And while we're at it, the other word you're looking for is SUPPOSEDLY. Supposably is not a word. Of course, neither is "Assface", but that's not going to stop me from calling you one.

And while we're at THAT, I believe the term for which you're reaching for is "I Could NOT Care Less". Saying "I Could Care Less" means that you actually still care.

And for the last freakin' time, YOUR DOES NOT EQUAL YOU'RE.

Now get back to work, and figure out what YOU'RE going to wear to see The Freakin' Hott this Friday at Respectable's and Saturday at The Poorhouse. You will be graded on this assignment.

Maggie

Mosh Spice

When I was sixteen years old, I wrote a song about "moshing".

That's it. The blog's not getting any funnier from there.

Okay, as true as that is, I'm in a rambling kind of mood so I thought I'd admonish some of my former loathings of their youthful sins against music. If someone had offered me a record deal at the ripe old age of eighteen, I'd have turned out a bunch of crap music too. I remember the first time I heard Alanis Morrisette's "Jagged Little Pill" and how depressed it made me that such a horrific album could go platinum eleven times over. Then came Jewel - same story. And as much as I still dislike their first AND subsequent efforts, in my ever-crotchety state of oldness, now I find myself kind of giving them a pass for being too young to have been thrust into the spotlight like that. (I always gave Fiona Apple a pass because I thought she turned out some really great stuff at a really young age, but even she has confessed to regretting the choices she allowed others to make for her during her rise to fame.)

I suppose the record industry is similar to dating a much older man: Creepy, controlling, exploitative, predatory, and really interested in what you can do to make their pants tight - be it with money or sex (and often times both, I'm looking at you Glen Ballard).

When I was eighteen, all I wanted in the world was to record albums and go on tour, and every day I didn't do something about it I felt like I was living the wrong life, but looking back now, I'm so thankful that nothing happened back then. In my post-high school state of mind, looking desperately and ironically to have my voice heard, I could have been talked into anything if the words came in the form of flattery and promises of validation.

A lot of people ask us what our goals our for the band, seeing as we're slightly older than eighteen now, and whether or not we're trying to "make it" and that kind of nonsense, and our answer is always the same: If something happens, that's great, but if this stops being fun and becomes a stressful "business", we're not interested. I think that's why we don't pound the pavement and knock on doors trying to "land" a deal. We always tell people it's because we're so lazy, but in the end I think it's just that we're too afraid of losing what we've got going, even if it's going nowhere. Rollercoasters don't go anywhere either, but it doesn't mean they're not worth riding.

If you'd like to ride the snake to the lake with us this weekend, we're playing this Friday the 22nd at Respectable's in West Palm Beach with Tenderfoot and Pyrojet. It's 21 and up, $5 cover, doors open at 8pm. Saturday the 23rd we'll be at The Poorhouse in Fort Lauderdale with Tenderfoot and our new favorite undead band Zombies Organize! No cover, doors at 10pm.

Ride the snake to the lake. Thank God I'm 30 - now I can fully realize how much Jim Morrison sucks.

Maggie

Only The Wrong Shall Survive

Allright, so everyone's up in arms over this whole "ethnic" tribes thing on 'Survivor' this year. Personally, I think they could have come up with about a hundred more controversial and interesting ways to divide tribes. Let's discuss some of them below.

1. Conjoined Twins vs The Blind
Would contain lots of controversial clips of people falling off rafts and drowning while Jeff Probst gives his usual useless commentary about how they "weren't in it to win it". A+ for drama.

2. Paula Abdul vs Suspicious Pharmacists
Mostly clips of Paula rambling and slurring about how she needs enough tranquilizers to put down an elephant for her chronic pain stemming from a fungal nail infection while pharmacists fold their arms and say, "I'm going to have to verify this with your doctor." B- for the possibility of an on-air overdose.

3. Infants vs UFC Champions
The world is a cruel, hard place - and there's no better time to learn that then while you're being held in a headlock by Frank Shamrock. It's a good thing you're wearing a diaper, kid. A+ for "keeping it real".

4. Nicole Richie vs Natural Digestion
Nicole is left on an island abundant with food, but without any access to laxatives. Panic ensues. B+ for the possibility of an on-air ribcage collapse.

5. Nineteen Stoners vs A National Geographic Special on Honey Bees
This one doesn't really seem fair. D- for having to sit through hours of clips of total silence with the occasional "Duuuuuuude. Whoa."

6. Kevin Federline vs A Team of Urologists
Kevin will have to fight off a team of surgeons who are trying to give him a vasectomy at the request of everyone on Earth. A+ for tension, drama, and the possibility that he won't breed again.

7. Dave Navarro vs Album Reviews of His New Band "The Panic Channel"
Watch as Dave's overpriced eyeliner mingles with his tears as they run down his face while he peruses reviews that use the words "tired", "boring", "pointless", and (my favorite) "self-indulgent snorefest". A++ for obvious reasons.

Feel free to add some of your own, or to print out this blog and use it as a quick reference if you ever run into Mark Burnett.

Maggie

Bungled Fever

I, like most people, was brimming with idealism in my early 20's. I had so many ideas on how to fix the world's woes that I became really obnoxious to everyone over the age of 30, who would just roll their eyes at me and say, "Uh huh. Whatever." One of my ideas was about ending racism. I theorized that if people of different races just kept mixing and mixing and mixing that eventually nobody would know what race they were anymore, making racism a non-issue. Sounds like a good plan, right? And you thought my early 20's were just about being a power pop Tawny Kitaen, ready to roll around on the hood of Superdrag's touring van in my Contempo Casuals underpants at a moment's notice. Shame on you.

I'm happy to say that I've recently met a person who embodies this idea, but instead of the whole "mixing" thing, she's chosen to have the worst fake tan I've ever seen in my entire life. Absolutely no one can tell what race she is, so I guess that makes race a non-issue. The rusty orange color, the purpleish freckles on her leathery chest, the strangely enlarged pores, the reverse-raccoon white circles around her eyes, the bleached-out sun spots on the tops of her arms. I tell ya, it's a good thing she spends so much time in a tanning bed, otherwise she'd run the risk of looking "unhealthy". And all she has to do it lay in a fungus-filled bacteria-laden tanning bed for ten minutes! When I wanted that nice ruddy orange color back in the day, I had to leg-wrestle the drummer from Slaughter on a baseball diamond in the nude during a taping of MTV's Rock and Jock Softball Spectacular. Nowadays I'm lucky if I get a chance to stick my hand under the heat lamp at Chick-Fil-A for five seconds while I flirt with the assistant manager named "Chip" in exchange for free waffle fries.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, racism is bad.

Maggie

No shows happening this weekend. Next show is Friday, Sep. 22nd at Respectable's with Tenderfoot and Pyrojet.

Judas Federline?!?!?!

I don’t have nearly the patience I did ten years ago. When I’m writing something, say a blog, or some song lyrics, or a threatening letter to my super secret Phen-Fen/Dexatrim colon irrigationist about her not-so-gentle touch as of late, if it takes me more than ten minutes I generally throw it across the room and start shouting obscenities at the television for distracting me with upcoming scenes from the next episode of TJ Hooker while Aaron clamors with the cats into the corner in terror and soothes his nerves by eating cobwebs and Cool Ranch Doritos that I dropped on the floor at an earlier date. This is why we were all so grateful that I witnessed a human being so vile, so disgusting, so ass-baggish that I was able to write a way-too-long blog in my head in the first five seconds that I looked at him. Strap yourself in.

I was walking in downtown Ft. Lauderdale, minding my own business while talking shit about most of you behind your backs, when I heard some horrid techno from the early 90’s coming closer and closer. I think it was actually “Planet Soul”, which makes it even more horrific, but the real horror hadn’t truly even begun yet. As the obnoxious sports car that was spewing this wretched crap got closer, I actually smelled the driver's cologne - FROM THE SIDEWALK.

He parked his assbag mobile and shuffled towards me with an exaggerated white boy “pimp limp” that made 50 Cent look like Andrew McCarthy in prep school on a tennis scholarship. He was wearing a nylon warm-up suit with the sleeves ripped off, exposing his assortment of barbed wire and pit bull tattoos. The top was zipped down to his belly button so he could flaunt his nipple rings and glittery chest. (I’m not kidding. There was glitter on it.) His camouflage-print hat was turned a notch to the side to show off his overly sculptured Jesse Metcalfesque eyebrows that framed his dullard eyes like caterpillars. In short, he looked so much like Kevin Federline that I found myself clutching my wallet and putting on a dress made of lead to protect my reproductive organs. Gucci tinted sunglasses at night? Check. Spray on tan? Check. Vacant look with accompanying smirk? Check. General uselessness as a human being? Check. Leather and metal-studded arm band that went from wrist to elbow? Check.

Wait a second.

I know. I was thinking the same thing. Where does THAT garment come into play? I was so confused by this accessory, I had to follow him to see if I could make sense of it all. Here’s what I observed:


1. Seven utterings of the word “dope” as an adjective.

2. Two tonguey faces made at passing girls. Apparently he thought the Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch video for “Good Vibrations” was an instructional video.

3. Actually giving “attitude” to his shoelace by throwing his arms out to the sides and saying, “Yo. Whuz up with THAT?” when it came untied.

4. Me seriously contemplating just serving the damn jail time in exchange for hitting him in the back of the head with a rock. Or was it a coconut? Wait. It was a Pontiac. That’s right. A Pontiac to be followed shortly by forcing him off a bridge. Into water full of broken glass and floating diptheria. And sharks. With herpes.

Sadly, I came to no conclusion regarding this out of place garment. None. Am I missing something? What is it?! I HAVE TO KNOW.

You wanna know why people say life isn't fair? THIS IS WHY RIGHT HERE.

Maggie

Girl, Your Fetus is Smokin'!!

If you truly know me, then you know that I love Wham, bacon cheeseburgers, and making fun of TMZ.com. It's the worst celebrity gossip page on the planet, besides BrentIndeed.com.

I feel that - as shitty as they usually are - they've really topped themselves this week. They had their crack team of photoshoppers (poorly) generate images of what they think Shiloh Jolie-Pitt and Suri Cruise will look like when they're 18 years old and then posted a poll box as to which infant YOU think will be hotter when they grow up. I only wish they would have taken it one step further by giving us their estimated cup sizes, and how many mojitos it will take to get them to give a lap dance to a sweaty, balding 45 year old Wilmer Valderrama on the promise that he'll get them a walk-on role of the 4th wave revival of "That 70's Show - The Musical!" starring himself and Tommy Chong's corpse.

What's next? Are we going to start stealing sonogram photos of celebrity babies and studying them for "future hotness", or should we just start harvesting the egg and sperm from the celebrity couple before they even do it so we can make sure only the best looking sperm make it through that troublesome ovum membrane? Even better - let's forbid celebrities from even dating each other unless they're genetically predisposed to deliver spawn with high cheekbones and a bitchin' rack. Any dissenters will be forced to get a man-boob face scrubbin' by John Travolta, or be forced to listen to Val Kilmer talk about how the spirit of Jim Morrison has inhabited his body since the first day of filming on Oliver Stone's "The Doors".

Believe it or not, the man-boob face scrubbin' is the lesser punishment.

Maggie

Devastatin' Dave - The Inflated Ego Slave

I'm quite disheartened to report that Dave Navarro is no longer "dating" Jenna Jameson. I really thought those two had what it takes to last, but it seems Dave isn't looking to settle down anytime soon, especially with someone who's spent the majority of their adult years having sex with people on camera for money. There's almost nothing you can say to console me, so please don't try.

I said "almost nothing".

Dave Navarro is now allegedly dating Playboy's Miss June 2006, Stephanie Larimore. In the traditional fashion, her "spread" notes her turn-on's and turn-off's. Here's a few of the turn-off's:

1. Arrogance
2. Materialism
3. Shallowness
4. Bad hygiene
5. Drug use

I am so glad Dave Navarro has never displayed any of these characteristics, except for all of them. Kudos, Stephanie. You've found your anti-dream man, and I use the term "man" loosely. It's a lot easier to type out "man" than "The Great Irrelevant Shirtless Pumpkin-Headed Wolverine Ego Train of Poorly Manicured Vaginal Disasters Sponsored By Hot Topic". You understand I tend to be lazy.

No shows this weekend - go see John Ralston at Respectable's in West Palm Beach on Saturday, September 9th. He's good people.

The Freakin' Hott's next show is happening September 22nd at Respectable's. Hold your water.

Maggie

Odor in The Court!!

Well now this story doesn't even make any sense.

Paris Hilton was arrested last night and charged with driving under the influence of alcohol. Am I the only one who finds it difficult to believe that this is the only thing she was charged with? How about some charges for ruining humankind, music, and the genital health of thousands of "suitors"? I would say that they should toss her into a cell with Saddam Hussein or which ever Number 2 Commander from Al-Queda they caught this week but, from what I understand, that would go against the Geneva Convention. I guess you're not allowed to deliberately infect prisoners with herpes, and I'm pretty sure that having to listen to an acapella version of "Stars Are Blind" constitutes torture, so that's out. I suppose at the very least they could force her to look at those pictures of Lindsay Lohan's hoo-hah that surfaced on the internet yesterday. That seems like a fitting punishment.

I won't post the vag pics here, but you can check them out at:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/allhailme/blogposts/090606_lindsaycrotchBG.jpg

Make sure you take your 3-D glasses off before you look. Your optic nerves could be damaged.

Maggie