The good, the bad and the fugly

The Stupid & Contagious Halloween coverage continues with possibly the scariest post ever! Today, we're talking about the ugliest men in rock. For the record I left Pete Doherty off the list because I don't think he exactly counts as a rocker these days since his priorities lie in transmitting germs to Kate Moss and passing out in poppy fields. Instead, room was reserved for people who are actively (and in some cases sadly) still working.

10. Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones
Don't get me wrong, Keith is the king of cool...and he should count his lucky stars that he's a guitar god, because he looks like an extra in "Night of the Living Dead." While the rumors of a blood replacement are unfounded, I wouldn't be surprised if Keith lived forever due to the vast amounts of formaldahyde coursing through his veins.

9. Justin Hawkins, The Darkness
The world does not need another Peter Frampton. And the world certainly does not need a Peter Frampton (with a touch of Michael Bolton) look-alike who regularly wears neon green, tiger-striped unitards cut down to the crotch. On top of looking like ass, he's also a moron; Justin recently left the Darkness because of a nasty cocaine habit (Gee, really? I thought he was born with that pale, shriveled physique...), and will no doubt attempt some kind of post-rehab comeback album and blame his record company for lack of marketing when it tops the charts at #52, sliding to #89 in week two, and then appearing on the Super Saver shelf for $5.99. Also of note: Justin is only 31, and based on this pic, it's only going to get worse.

8. Dani Filth, Cradle of Filth
You wouldn't believe the sheer amount of ridiculous pictures that exist of this guy. In nearly every one, he's in full goth regalia, hissing at the camera, licking fake blood off of his fingers, et al allegedly scary posturing. But with his pudgy little face, ratted frizzy hair and yellow teeth he looks more like Augustus Gloop gone whips and chains. Also, he's only 5'5", which may lend a little explaination to his whole preposterous schtick. I'm also kind of fascinated by how his mouth and chin area looks like that of a ventrioquist's dummy. Was that on purpose? I just don't get it.

7. Scott Stapp, Creed
Because being a great big self-involved douche who has done more to ruin rock music than even number one on this list is very unattractive. In fact, I think the word "douche" was invented just for him—it's so fitting. And THAT HAIR! Ug! The onion ring basket at Burger King is less greasy.

6. The Gallagher brothers, Oasis
With their bowling-ball heads, grouchy expressions, and matching monobrows that even Bert from Sesame Street would find offensive, these mumbling, constantly-at-war siblings can give Pete Doherty and Chris Martin a run for their money as the most inexplicable Brit sex symbols.

5. Ace Frehley, KISS
It's quite a feat to be regarded as the ugliest member of KISS, and also to have the worst stage costume in the whole band. It was a tough call between Ace and Vinnie Vincent, but Ace takes it because of his mashed potato-like complexion which you can still see even when he is in full makeup. These guys had the right idea with the whole hidden faces thing; too bad it didn't last.

4. Lemmy Kilmister, Motorhead
Another of the classic ugly metal dudes. Lemmy looks like a hard-drinkin' redneck under house arrest in a rusted trailor with chickens and babies wearing only diapers running around in the front yard. And despite having Manson-esque bug eyes, unkempt "Deadwood"-style muttonchops and those enormous boils on his face, Lemmy allegedly gets more ass than the entire band of Motley Crue combined.

3. Mick Mars, Motley Crue
Poor Mick. I feel kind of bad making fun of him because he's got some kind of degenerating disease, but that is one unfortunate-looking man. The worst was when he grew out some kind of fu manchu-style mustache and then shaved off the portion under his nose. The resulting look is hard to describe—it was like a hybrid of a lobster (or some other crustacean with antennae-like eyes), a lemur and Emperor Ming from "Flash Gordon". On top of it all, the poor guy had to stand next to the other three guys, especially the babealicious Nikki, which only served to make him look like he was really their sleazy manager and not actually part of the band.

2. Shane McGowan, The Pogues
This photo makes me want to vomit. You can practically smell him through the computer screen. What you can't see in this pic is that his fingertips and nails are a putrid yellowish-brown from nicotine stains. I'm sure the floor below him is also coated in vomit, just because it seems like it would be. Good lord, I can't even look!

1. Chad Kroeger, Nickelback
Someone online said this about Chad: "My five-year-old cousin saw him on TV one day and started screaming." Bingo. But at the same time you can't stop staring at him because his head is fucking huge. Have you ever seen a larger, more grotesquely misshapen noggin before in your life? It's like one of the Easter Island heads. And like Scott Stapp, his douchebaggery makes this mess even worse. Like if he wrote the next "Sgt. Pepper's" it might not be so bad. But instead he's he lyrical mastermind behind "Feelin' Way Too Damn Good". Bad music, bad lyrics and a chillingly bad face are inexcuseable in my book, and thus Chad has the distinct honor of being number one.

One bad omen

I'm still delirious over the fantabulous Eric Avery news that has transpired over the last week, and I am completely unforgiving to anyone or anything that tries to rain on my happy little parade.

Offender numero uno: the remake of The Omen. I know I said I was going to avoid this movie like the plague, but with Halloween coming up and all, I broke down and thought, "Eh, it's probably better than 'I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer'." But as it turns out, I was right all along and should have heeded my own advice. To quote directly from my own post:

"Don't go see it; I saw the preview and it looks really bad. They got some ugly overacting brat with a bowl haircut to play Damien. There's no way this unattractive moppet can deliver as creepy a performance as little Harvey Stephens in the original 30 years ago."

In what should not come as a surprise to anyone, herein lies the backbone of the problem of this movie, however the issue is not overacting. Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick, best known for his scene-stealing turn as "Boy in Restaurant" on the "A Women's Right to Shoes" ep of "Sex and the City" is quite possibly the most lifeless, uncharismatic child actor I've ever seen. His menacing "Damien look" just makes him look like a kid that was just told he's not leaving the table until he finishes those lima beans, mister. His pulseless, droid-like line delivery was excruciating, even though he only had about five lines in the whole movie. And whoever gave him that haircut should be slapped. Raise your hand if your childhood was ruined by a bad bowl cut that mom gave you over the sink.

Even though the movie was done pretty much scene-for-scene like the original, the scare factor was less than zero. Even the dog-in-the-mom's-grave scene (my number nine scariest movie scene ever) was ridiculously unscary. The priest impalement scene was actually laughable. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and opted to watch "Flavor of Love" reruns for hours instead.

One thing I did enjoy was the inspired choice of Mia Farrow as nanny/satan's cheerleader Mrs. Baylock, even though she now looks like the mom from "The Wilderness Family" (does anyone else remember that movie?)—that's her in the picture above creepily feeding strawberries to Bowl Cut. She actually gave off the only creeptastic vibe of the whole movie. But the amended scene where she kills Mrs. Thorn was a horrible addition—not seeing exactly what happened, just her flying out the window, made this scene far more terrifying in the original.

I don't know what I expected. Another "Hostel"? Yeah, right! I'd like to see a more fucked-up movie than that. Or not. BTW, I was pleased to see that Bravo chose the same scene that chilled my bones in "Hostel" as their number one scary movie moment of the year. I was right, I was right! I'm so awesome, it's not even funny. And from what I've read, another "Hostel" movie is in the works, this time with girls, including Bijou Phillips and Heather "Weiner Dog" Matarazzo. Good god, I don't know if I can take it.

BREAKING NEWS: Eric Avery has a blog and a solo album!!!

Stop the presses, forget about Red Warszawa...this news trumps even a Count update: my favorite musician, hero, and fake boyfriend Eric Avery has started a blog, right here on Blogger! And he even used the same layout as me...that's soooo cool.

But wait, there's more! He's also finished his solo album! I can hardly wait! This is the best news I've heard today. All this stuff about Lindsay Lohan getting served and Tara Reid's bad plastic surgery has been getting me down, but now I feel much better!

I've added Eric's blog to my links menu. So how cool is it that when someone looks for blogs that link to Eric Avery's blog, Stupid & Contagious will pop right up?? How can you not love a man who says, "i grew up in a liberal household and have always led a lifestyle surrounded by liberals and therefore grew up with the belief that conservatives eat their children." He's so awesome!

Wait a minute. I just thought of something. What if he decides to take a look to see who is linking to his blog and sees all the creepy, fawning things I've written about him? Oh god, how embarrassing! But at this point, I don't even care because I'm so excited...hurray for Eric!

Red Warszawa ærgre sig gul og grøn!

That means "Red Warszawa kick themselves"—in Danish! Doesn't it look funny? What a stupid-looking alphabet!

I'm totally kidding, of course. I'm quite charmed by the Danish language (alcohol is "alkohol"!) and by the Denmarkians (Danes?) themselves. In fact, my new favorite band is from Denmark: the aforementioned Red Warszawa. Why? Several reasons, all involving alveolo-palatal fricatives, uvular fricatives, As with little circles over them and Os with lines through them. So cute!

1. The band members:
"Lækre" Jens (SANG)—translation: "Hot/Sexy" Jens
Måtten Møbelbanker (SLAGTØJ)
My Tight Ass (BASS GEDDAR)
Heavy-Hennin (GEDDAR)

There have also been 21 other members of the band since their start in 1987. On "geddar" and other instruments. By the way, My Tight Ass is pictured above in his stage outfit. Based on this photo (and that his name is My Tight Ass), you can't tell me this band isn't all kinds of kickass.

2. "Norsk Black Metal"
I actually discovered these guys when I was trying to dig up some hilarious black metal goodies on YouTube and this video popped up. Well, just watch it...


3. Just look at the names of these songs:
• Skyd Sven ("Shoot Sven")
• Hævi mætal og hass ("Heavy Metal and Hash"
• Skal vi lege doktor? ("Want To Play Doctor?")
• Tysk hudindustri ("German Skin Industry")
• Return of the Glidefedt ("Return of the Personal Lubricant")

There is a tantalizing lack of info on Red Warszawa at my disposal, which makes me all the more intrigued.

The 13 scariest movie scenes ever

So as I was getting ready to post this, I discovered this kick-ass list of the 100 scariest movie scenes on RetroCRUSH. It's awesome and all, but it totally looks like I copied!! I swear I didn't! Anyway, here is my list and I hope it doesn't bring back any bad memories. Let me know what movie scenes made you want to pee your pants (and then proceed post-haste to RetroCRUSH for more cool Halloween stuff, including hilarious pics of the worst costumes of all time—come on, you know you want to be Small Wonder)!

Oh, and don't forget to check out my picks at RockitQueen Gold or the flying monkeys will get you! Seriously, you don't want those things pawing at your window while you're trying to sleep.

13. "Rosemary's Baby": "What have you done to his eyes??"
But, Rosemary, your baby has his father's eyes! Because his father is the Prince of Fucking Darkness, not John Cassavetes! And your sweet little neighbor Ruth Gordon is a satanist! And if you can't beat them, you must join them. Shudder...

12. "Hostel": "Be careful—you could spend ALL your money in there!"
OK, I'm going to say it fast: basically, Jay Rodriguez's character escapes from this "killing factory" where people can pay money to torture and kill kidnapped backpackers and a guy that is getting ready to "partake" says this. Good god, I can't even think about it. Of all the shit that went down in this twisted movie, THIS is the moment that bothered me the most.

11. "The Wizard of Oz": Closeup of the Wicked Witch
Dorothy is trapped in the witch's castle and begins wishing for home. Suddenly, sweet little Auntie Em appears in the witch's crystal ball calling out to Dorothy. Next thing you know, the hideous green pointy face of the witch appears and the camera zooms in disturbingly close to her horrible, cackling mug! Everyone in the audience then ceremoniously craps their pants.

10. "The Ring"/"Ringu": Well girl walks through the TV
I've been told I'm a total loser for thinking this was scary. Maybe I am, I don't know. But when the well girl climbed out of the TV and crawled toward that guy I literally backed away from the screen. Well, what if she had climbed through MY TV screen?? And then I watched the original version and, even though I knew what was going to happen, I did the exact same thing.

9. "The Omen": Damien's mom's a dog
Gregory Peck and David Warner need to find the truth about that little freakshow Damien's background, and they track down the grave of his real mother and dig it up. Of course, the cemetery is old and decrepid and there are a whole bunch of rottweilers hanging around foaming at the mouth. What do they find when they finally pry open the crypt? A DOG SKELETON! Imagine the "Psycho" knife-stab music, and you've pretty much got it.

8. Some B-movie that scared me when I was a kid
Yeah, yeah, I'm a total wuss, and this proves it. I once saw this film on one of those Sunday matinee, crappy B-movie shows and I don't remember the name of it, but I will never forget two scenes that scared the shit out of me. The female lead was being harrassed/stalked by some unknown assailant and at one point he locked her in a sauna, which I found highly disturbing, and then he PUSHED A TAILOR'S DUMMY ON HER WHILE SHE WAS SLEEPING, which made me nearly pass out because I hate, hate, hate headless mannequins. Shut up.

7. "Deliverance": Squeal like a piggy
Need I say more?

6. "The Silence of the Lambs": Clarice in Buffalo Bill's basement
It's all fun and games until the rookie FBI agent descends into the underground lair of a ghoulish serial killer to put a stop to his crime spree and save his latest victim. It's a seriously, seriously tense and disturbing movie moment that makes you feel as if you yourself are entering Buffalo Bill's world.

5. "The Changeling": That frigging mini wheelchair!!
If you haven't seen this one, it's actually a very good '70s-era ghost tale, starring George C. Scott with some excellent scares, the worst of which is this terrible wooden child's wheelchair that just happens to show up here and there and sometimes randomly hurtles itself down the stairs at George.

4. "Se7en": Sloth/Lust
After I saw this movie, I couldn't sleep for a week, as I alternately kept thinking of the "knife suit" that served as the completely fucked-up "Lust" killing and the living "Sloth" victim rocketing up into Morgan Freeman's face and coughing. Yeesh.

3. "The Blair Witch Project": The house with the handprints
Yep, I was one of the people that was laying on the floor of the movie theater during this one because I was so scared. The worst part was at the very end when the two remaining filmmakers ran into the abandoned house (why do they always go in??) and as they are dashing up the stairs, you see what appear to be bloody handprints all along the walls. And thank god that was the end because I was about to hightail it out of the theater at that point anyway.

2. "Dumbo": Drunken elephant dream
Jesus Christ, I still can't think about this without getting creeped out. Who put this fucked-up shit in a so-called children's movie? First of all, Dumbo GETS DRUNK, which is messed up to begin with, and then starts hallucinating about these blank-eyed pink elephants. They get big and then small! They turn plaid! Their trunks turn into trumpets! They march and loom! The mere thought of it still makes my skin crawl. By the way, way to go, Disney, on that one. I wonder how many kids turned to a life of drug and alcohol abuse after viewing that scene. Just say no, kids! (Aside: I can't believe RetroCRUSH also picked this for their list, because I seriously thought I was the only person whose childhood was warped by this scene. I'm glad I'm not the only one, but I'm also a little bummed that someone else thought of it first. Hmph.)

1. "The Exorcist": The spider walk
This scene was cut from the original movie because it so bothered the test audiences, but was added back in to the re-released version a few years ago. Ellen Burstyn's character thinks her daughter might possibly be possessed but no one believes her—until her daughter does a backbend and creeps down the stairs on her fingertips! It's so unbelievably chilling, you'll want to curl up in the fetal position and suck your thumb (not that I did that or anything...). Wait until you hear this: according to iMDb it's REAL. Yes, that's right: a contortionist was brought in, dressed as Linda Blair and then literally executed this totally unnatural and fucked-up maneuver. My god, I'm getting scared just writing about it!

Mama, we're all crazy now

First order of business: the new changes at Stupid & Contagious. Against my better judgement, I've started a new blog. RockitQueen GOLD is allegedly going to be a weekly list of music on my radar. Why? Because the world is dying to know! And I'd like to try to spread the word about some bands I like, since I hate pretty much everything on the radio. Let me know what you think, good and bad. If anyone cares at all, it will totally make my day. I've updated my links list to include this fabulous new way for me to waste some more time.

Speaking of the links list, you may notice another change has taken place in that area of the blog. I have removed the link to Pink is the New Blog, and not because I don't like the site. In fact, I love it! But lately the webmaster Trent has been saying too many nice things about Britney, and it's irritating. So this my way of sending a message that I don't like it...take that, Trent!

With that out of the way, let's get down to today's hot button topic: "House of Carters", aka the new best show on TV. If you haven't seen this sparkling gem, here's the gist: Backstreet Boy Nick Carter moves his 18-year-old pop tart brother and three sisters into his house in an attempt to salvage what's left of their dysfunctional family. In this nutshell, it sounds simple enough. But if you've ever wondered what it looks like from the inside when white trash wins the lottery, this mess puts you smack dab in the middle of the double wide.

Let's meet the Carter kiddies, shall we?

• Nick—dated Paris Hilton, yet still seems to be the most rational, pulled-together sibling.

• Bobbie Jean (BJ)—wants to be a chef; lights cig off of gas burner and smokes while cooking; probably drinks the cooking sherry and sundry other marinades; drinks ALOT.

• Leslie—thinks she's going to be a singer; had a single called "Like Wow!" on the Shrek soundtrack; first album scrapped because her label didn't think she could compete with Britney and J-Simp.

• Aaron—"pop star" and the guy that Lohan and Caps Duff supposedly got in a big fight over; legally emancipated from his mom, after alleging that she had bilked more than $100K of his earnings; recently broke off a one-day engagement to Playmate, saying "I got caught up in the moment and proposed. I then realized it was a hasty thing to do, and I am not ready for marriage quite yet".

• Angel—Aaron's twin; thinks she's going to be a model (let's ask Tyra about that); currently in an all female trio called TKO (Total Knock Outs).

You can probably guess what the big issue is here: Nick has a bunch of money, and all the others want it. In the first ep, Crazy Mom Carter calls Nick whining that she's siiiiick and in the hospiiiiital and neeeeeeds moneeeeeeey. Nick wants proof that she is really sick because she's cried wolf before, prompting his loving siblings to immediately jump down his throat and call him selfish and stingy. "I love her more than anyone in this house does!" one screams. "He has millions of dollars and he can't help her out?" another shrills. "My heart is beating out of my chest, that's how big my heart is!" shrieks Aaron (but that might be another problem, as we'll discuss later). Nick gives in to all the bitching and sends CMC money and soon gets the not-at-all-surprising news that she was spotted at a bar sporting brand new extensions and buying rounds. Klassy! Lather, rinse, repeat.

If that's not enough, Nick also has to deal with the hellishly unattractive Aaron, who seems to be a bit of a tweaker. I'm not starting any rumors or anything, but if he's not doping, he is one WEIRD dude. First of all, he weighs about 15 pounds and has scabs on his face the size of pepperchinis. Second, he "likes to work at night." Third, he dances like a crackhead. And finally, he actually said this: "I've got people who need music and I've got money to make. It's grind time for AC." If those are not the words of a dope fiend, well then, we have bigger problems than we think.

The highlight of the first episode features a smackdown between Nick and Aaron where Nick screams at the top of his Backstreet lungs that Aaron took Paris out after he dumped her, took a pic of her with his camera phone and left it in Nick's car. After the fight they all ask for Xanex.

I never in my life thought I would ever say anything remotely resembling something like this, but here goes: I feel sorry for Nick Carter. He's desperately trying to help these yahoos and get them to act like a family, and they are all for it if it gives them a shot at tapping into Nick's fortune. This season, the girls threaten to cut each other, Nick says, "I'm not your dad, I'm your brother—respect me as your brother!" about 863 times, and Aaron goes to the ER. Yee-haw, can't wait!

A "Jackass Number 2" review in haiku

Fade in; foggy street
the boys emerge followed by
really pissed off bulls

Then mayhem ensues
in a variety of
funny/gory forms

Dick brand on Bam's ass
Dunn's balls stuck to an ice block
Naked Wee Man, too

Anacondas in
a kids' ball pit..."they
tried to kill Ice Cube!"

Fishhook through the mouth
Leech on the eyeball and more
What won't Steve-O do?

What happens when you
put a rocket launcher on
a shopping cart...hmmm...

Old people body parts
created out of rubber
then dangled freely

Grandpa gets kid drunk,
lights him a cigarette and
tells stoner: "Piss off!"

Satan flies out of
a sewer; screams "Keep god out
of California!"

A horse is milked and
I very nearly puked but then I
thought, "Fuck Art, Let's Dance"

All in all, truly brill
and worth it just for the big
dance number finale

My biggest fear was
a cameo from J-Simp.
No such "luck", thank god

They will never beat
the toy car up the ass stunt
from the first Jackass

It's still "a joyful
celebration of the depths
of degredation"

BREAKING: Count's parole revoked!

So I was thinking about Halloween the other day and naturally my thoughts quickly turned to the eternal question, "What's Count Grishnackh doing for the big day this year?" Is Halloween a big holiday for white supremecists? It's hard to tell because not all nazis love satan. Anyway, it doesn't matter, because according to the Burzum website, Count is going to have to do his trick or treating in the hole again this year. That's right, it's official: poor Varg's parole has been revoked and he won't get another chance at freedom until April 2008!

Needless to say, I find this hilarious. I'm sure this latest monkey wrench in his plans to slink around in the woods of the north making his own soap and organizing some kind of Scando takeover will drive him to frantically scrawl more hysterical articles about the man keeping him down. In September alone, he's produced an entire series of articles entitled "A Bard's Tale" (which includes the aeonian "Ring of Andvari") and the soon-to-be-legendary narrative "Lords of Lies". Take a wild guess what that one's about.

The Count's latest personal crusade is against the impending film version of "Lords of Chaos". Here's the synopsis, straight from director Hans Fjellestad's website: "Set inside the notorious Norwegian Black Metal music scene of the early 1990s, this narrative feature follows a group of dedicated musicians and their charismatic figureheads—Count Grishnackh and Euronymous—as their art and music transform into real violence in the streets of Northern Europe. Amid escalating murder and mayhem, based on true events, this is the story of the rise and fall of two self-appointed Kings of Rock, with the heart of a Sam Peckinpah western. Shooting begins in late 2006 in Scandinavia."

While that sounds like all kinds of awesome to me, to the Grand Poobah of Persecution it's slander. The Burzum webmaster reports: "Varg Vikernes would like to state that a recently announced by the media film by Hans Fjellestad called 'Lords Of Chaos' is using Varg’s name and the whole Story without any permission. This movie is obviously going to be another piece of lies and utterly silly prejudices. Boycott this film instead of discussing it and spreading news about it all over the net, in case you wish to support Varg. Stop the Hollywood-dregs!"

Oops! Looks like I'm fueling lies and propaganda by discussing this film and spreading news about it all over the net! Just to be fair (and for kicks) I checked out "Lord of Lies" and my curiosity paid off, as it included this stellar assessment from the Count himself: "The newspaper headlines spell 'Film about the Count', 'Varg Vikernes goes to Hollywood' and so forth, but it's just a hoax; they misuse my (nick-)name to promote a film that obviously has nothing to do with me. They don't even base it on reality, but on the laveyish (from the name of Anton LaVey; the founder of the sorry "Church of Satan") lies of Michael Jenkins Moynihan and his idiot companion, Didrik Søderlind, the two satanic clowns responsible for 'Lords Of Chaos.' So, I will encourage everybody to sabotage this film and the production of this film by all legal means, and to simply boycott it."

Hey, everybody, let's have a sit-in! That's always an effective method of protest. And it's pretty much the only one available to Varg at the moment. HA! And what if the sit-in became a LOVE-in? Now that would really whip him into a frenzy.

Seriously, I'm actually starting to feel sorry for the other prisoners that are trapped in there with him. His constant bellyaching gives me a migraine and I'm not even on the same continent as he is. Maybe we should hold a drive to collect earplugs for the inmates of Tromsø Prison so they can carve their shivs and ferment wine in the toilet in peace. They must have the patience of saints there. Otherwise he would have been shanked within the first week.

As always, he signs off his articles with a quote that is supposed to make you think or something, and this edition's is: Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur (In the time of need you will learn who your friends are). Wait a minute, I think they said this on The Sopranos once.

It's time for an intervention (or three)

This post is brought to you by Pete Doherty, bless his heart. Here he is smoking a tray.

Anyway, is it wrong that I'm kinda into that show "Intervention" on A&E? I don't know how I should feel about that. Maybe it makes me a bad person, I don't know. But it's a good show. And sometimes you really hope that the addicts can pull it together. Other times, you kind of hope they are arrested and put away for the sake of the family. That's why I decided to try to organize a few interventions of my own—because for my sake, something needs to be done here. And as always, I like to try to make the world a better place, if and when I can.

The "CSI" Intervention
One look at the picture at right will tell you why this intervention is needed ASAP. Of course this picture is posed because we all know K-Fed would need the "special people" script with pictures, but sadly the rumors are true: Federline is going to guest star on "CSI" this season. Allegedly he's going to be playing some kind of gangster thug, a role that will force him to really dig, and this tells me that the writers of "CSI" are actually taking him seriously as a guest star; if they had any sense of humor at all, they would have made him a social services worker investigating child abuse or a priest or something. Talk about a jump the shark moment—this assjacker woodenly stammering his way through a scene where he must interact with studly investigators Nick Stokes and Warwick Brown. He may possibly be the worst "celebrity" guest star on a television show in history. It's worse than when Mr. Carlson from WKRP tried to molest Arnold and Dudley on "Dif'rent Strokes". Now, if he was guesting on "CSI: Miami" I wouldn't be so upset; he'd fit right in with all the other obvious idiots masquerading as scientists and whatnot.

While we're on the subject of talent-free rubes, you've got to see the ridiculous new intro to Mrs. Federline's website; it's totally hilarious. Make sure you have the sound on really loud, too—you'll think you're really in the skank jungle.

The Whoever-Keeps-Giving-Jessica-Simpson-Acting-Jobs Intervention
I think "Employee of the Month" has the potential to be the worst movie ever made, topping even my least favorite movie of all time ("Twins"). I think it might make "Beerfest" look like "Some Like It Hot" on the comedy scale. Let me guess what happens: Dane Cook plays a screwoff working at Wal-Mart who finds out the busty cashier, played by Simp-Simp, has a thing for the employee of the month, so he does whatever he can to win the title. Along the way, someone gets kicked in the balls, someone gets caught masterbating in the store, Jessica's boobs are mentioned ad nauseum, and Dane finds out that the object of his desire is actually has a heart of gold and he suddenly wants to get to know her and not just fuck her. Jessica finds out about the ploy and tells Dane to get out of her and her boobs' lives, but when he does something really dorky-sweet (most likely singing "I Want To Be Loved By You" into a mop handle while the photo lab guy surprises everyone with some kind of krunk dance routine) and wins her over. The happy ending also includes some kind of double entendre reference to Dane finally getting a handful of the two reasons Jessica Simpson is famous in the first place. Non-hilarity ensues.

The Ville Intervention
It pains me to write this. It pains me even more to see the pictures (and I won't post them because I prefer to remember him as he was), but our beautiful, beloved Ville is slipping away. A bad breakup and general consumption issues has caused him to balloon up Haim-style and deteriorate from dirty/sexy to a code red stankonia. This just tears me up inside. Ville, sit here between Lola and I, we have written letters to you. I'll go first:

Dear Ville,
For the love of all that's holy, get a fucking grip, dude. I'll get that weight off of you in two weeks. Saddle up.
Love,
RockitQueen

Oh, weird...Lola's letter says the exact same thing! Just say the word and you'll be on a plane to our special treatment center. It's so exclusive that you'll be the only patient, and you'll get one-on-one rehabilitation unfounded in most facilities. Be prepared, it's going to be a rough journey. But it'll be the toughest experience you'll ever love. We promise!

For the record, I love Dr. Bunsen Honeydew. He has no eyes, yet he wears glasses. And he would make a better guest star on "CSI" than Federline. He's definitely a more believable scientist than Emily Proctor.

This is what too much rocking can do to you

Do you know who this man is? Here's a hint: it's NOT Truman Capote. Here's another hint: you can take the wildest guess ever and it still won't be right. Are you ready for the answer?

IT'S ADAM FUCKING ANT!

Remember what he used to look like back in the "Goody Two Shoes", dating-Jamie-Lee-Curtis days? He was pretty hot, if I recall correctly. Time, the road and biopolar disorder (which, according to wikipedia, led him to wave a fake gun and threaten people in a pub) has caused this man to go from '80s coverboy to a pasty, doughy freakshow. Kind of interesting (read: chilling) to see how the mighty have fallen. This slideshow features then and now pics of music legends and one-hit wonders so you can see for yourself what happens when you live too much of the high life. For example: Bruce Springsteen? Not so bad. Gary Glitter? Holy fucking shit! I mean, he looked like a lunatic before, but now he's practically advertising "I'M INTO KIDDIE PORN". He should be jailed for life based on what he LOOKS LIKE he's up to in that "now" picture.

Some more vitally important observations:
• I'm not one to start rumors, but I think there is a decent possibility that Eddie Van Halen has been chasing a few dragons around, if you know what I'm saying. Jesus, that man looks bad. No wonder Valerie divorced him; I wouldn't want to wake up and see that thing drooling on the pillow next to me. And he looks like he's got really bad breath, most likely a combo of stale Kools, cough syrup and grocery store sushi.

• It's confirmed: Tom Petty is actually dead and his reanimated corpse is now walking around pretending to be alive Tom Petty and is only moments away from tearing the flesh off of some unsuspecting innocent. Watch out! But despite his return from the crypt, his hair is exactly the same as it used to be. Weird.

• Axl, Axl...my god, Axl. Suddenly he's out in public all the time again and it makes you wonder what was happening all that time he was living as a recluse and consulting psychics about if he should leave the house today. All that plastic surgery, all the godforsaken braided dreds. There's no more sense of mystery to Axl; the only question surrounding him now is how is it that Duff (whose kidney or liver or something fucking EXPLODED because of all his drinking) and Slash (who had to hired a guy to carry him around because he was always so wasted) both look better.

• Who has the more offensive caps—Hillary Duff, Gary Busey or Jon Bon Jovi? OK, OK, Busey wins because I think his are made out of wood, like George Washington, but the point is: why do people get caps that are pure white instead of a realistic tooth color? Teeth are not pure white! But they are also not pure black, Eddie Van Halen.

• I hate English-manor, horsemistress-chic Madonna.

• If Phil Collins ever needs a decoy when he's running away from fans trying to create a diversion, whatever, I have a suggestion:

All in all, good snarky fun, per usual. Check it out, mofos, and feel good about how you look. Oh, and also...FREE DOG!

Free Dog!

We here at Stupid & Contagious (i.e. me) are big supporters of Dog the Bounty Hunter and if you haven't heard, his little scrape with the Mexican law has become more like a gash in the last couple of days. What we shouldn't fail to remember is that Dog & Co. captured a guy who made a run for the border with more than 80 COUNTS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT on his head. Gee, sorry, for taking that scumbucket away from the cushy Max Factor-heir lifestyle he was leading down there in Puerto Villarta where he was most likely still dropping roofies in drinks and attacking god-only-knows how many others. Oh yeah, and he's now currently serving a 124-year prison term for rape.

Show your support for Dog, Tim and Leland Chapman by signing this petition. DO IT! Let's get the good guys out of prison and back to Hawaii to keep up the good work. Dog rocks!

The Soon-To-Be Famous First Line Quiz: The '80s

I don't know about you, but that last post left a bad taste in my mouth. And by bad taste, I mean the rank tang of regurgitation. So let's cleanse the palate with some more '80s goodness, shall we? Here are the first lines from 50 '80s songs—see if you can guess what they are. It's already pretty tricky, and make it even trickier, I reproduced the lines using proper punctuation (or as close to it as I can get)...you may be surprised how much harder that makes it! I'll post the answers in the comments section below the post. Don't peek!

Good luck, sweeties!

1. Now, the king told the boogie men, "You have to let that raga drop."
2. You're wondering who I am—machine or mannequin.
3. Give me time to realize my crime. Let me love and steal.
4. I can't believe the news today; I can't close my eyes and make it go away.
5. She'll only come out at night, —the lean and hungry type.
6. Who's gonna tell you when it's too late? Who's gonna tell you things aren't so great?
7. Er war ein Punker, und er lebte in der großen Stadt.
8. No New Year's Day to celebrate; no chocolate-covered candy hearts to give away.
9. Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you.
10. Well, I'm an axegrinder piledriver.
11. Dig, if you will, the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss.
12. Every time I think of you, I feel a shot right through with a bolt of blue.
13. Jump back, what's that sound ? Here she comes, full blast and top down.
14. Watch out, you might get what you're after.
15. Will I see him on the TV, preachin' 'bout the promised land?
16. Something in the way you love me won't let me be.
17. I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather.
18. Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around.
19. I went to a party last Saturday night; I didn't get laid, I got in a fight.
20. Sometimes, you're better off dead.
21. Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
22. There are things that you guess and things that you know.
23. We're talking away. I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway.
24. Hey, you! Get into my car!
25. I know just how to whisper, and I know just how to cry. I know just where to find the answers, and I know just how to lie.
26. This whole life seems much too long; little point in going on.
27. There's a little black spot on the sun today. It's the same old thing as yesterday
28. All you've got is this moment. The twenty-first century's yesterday.
29. What you gonna do when you get out of jail?
30. I heard you on the wireless back in '52, lying awake intent at tuning in on you.
31. The sun goes down, the night rolls in; you can feel it starting all over again.
32. You turn me on. You lift me up, and like the sweetest cup, I'd share with you.
33. Josie's on a vacation far away.
34. It's Christmastime; —there's no need to be afraid; at Christmastime, we let in light and we banish shade.
35. Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning.
36. You've gone too far this time and I'm dancing on the valentine.
37. Once I had a love and it was a gas.
38. I walked along the avenue. I never thought I'd meet a girl like you.
39. Ricky was a young boy; he had a heart of stone.
40. If I get to know your name, well, I could trace your private number, baby.
41. Got to take a little time, a little time to think things over.
42. Love is like a bomb, baby. Come on, get it on.
43. She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene.
44. Just and urchin living under the streets, I'm a hard case that's tough to beat.
45. You put the boom-boom into my heart.
46. There comes a time when we need a certain call when the world must come together as one.
47. There'’s this girl that'’s been on my mind all the time.
48. Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere.
49. I feel a hot wind on my shoulder and the touch of a world that is older.
50. Jump on outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition.

Scoring
4 or less: I'm guessing you probably weren't even alive in the '80s.
5–14: Nick at Nite doesn't count as an '80s experience.
15–24: You got the easy ones!
25–34: Ronald Reagan presents you with an award for '80s superstar!
35–45: Denny Terrio, is that you?
45+: Wow, I'm impressed. And you need some serious help.

Like, omigod, Heinrich Himmler is sooooo hottt!

Awww, aren't they too precious? They kind of remind me of a pre-derelique-era Mary Kate and Ashley. Indeed, these two shiny, happy little moppets are a bit infamous in their own right; the 14-year-old twins are Lynx and Lamb Gaede, otherwise known as California folkpop duo Prussian Blue.

Yes, you read that right—their names are Lynx and Lamb. But that's not the scariest part. Take a gander, if you will, at their adorable little baby tees and you'll see a very distinctive homage to a famous historical figure. They're actually just normal teens with healthy, girly interest in boys, parties, gossip and makeup. Oh, and Rudolph Hess. That's right, Lynx and Lamb are NAZIS!

Again, you read that right. Prussian Blue has a message and it's WHITE POWER. But it's a message disguised in catchy, off-key little Jewel-like tunes, and it's coming out of the mouths of these vampy teen Lolitas. You can imagine how that gets the tattooed baldys in the crowd going. Especially when they are singing songs called "I Will Bleed For You" while wearing flirty little dirndls...um, YUCK. "I mean, what young, red-blooded American boy isn't going to find two blonde twins, sixteen years old, singing about white pride and pride in your race...very appealing?" says their Mommie Dearest/madam, April. Klassy!

And the fun has just begun. On Primetime Live, they popped their gum and said of the six million killed in nazi Germany, "It's an exaggeration. I hardly believe there were even that many Jews alive back then." Who knew it was all just a very elaborate Truman Show-style setup? Oddly enough, the "Prussian Blue" name is in reference to the color of Zyklon B fallout that wasn't used in the German gas chambers that didn't exist. When asked in an interview what they feel is the most important social issue facing the white race right now, they answered: "Not having enough white babies born to replace ourselves and generally not having good quality white people being born." (Federline could not be reached for comment.)

The twins' mom April is sort of like a neo-nazi pageant mom, who home-schools the girls and writes a super-informative articles for sundry white power rags. While she preaches a big game and seems to think of herself as a battle-ready June Cleaver (she once said she was prepared to "go into battle in armor cutting the heads off my enemies but would be home in time to make a tasty dinner for my man"), she hasn't exactly been the good little Eva Brahn she wants everyone to think she is; she was once arrested for indecent exposure when she rode a horse through the streets of her hometown wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boots, G-string, bunny tail, and a pair of bumper stickers slapped across her breasts for some ridiculous radio station promotion. Uh-oh, that sounds like bad values to me!

But the vanguard didn't mind because the Gaedes are now considered bigwigs for "the movement." Interestingly (or not), the girls got their start thanks to William Pierce, the guy who wrote that book that inspired Timothy McVey to torpedo a fertilizer-filled U-Haul into the Oklahoma City federal building. And who wouldn't want their kids being mentored by the founder of the American Nazi Party? What he saw in the girls besides superb aryan-ness remains to be seen, but with Pierce's support, they learned to "play" instruments and screetch out songs and started winning the mini-Hilters over. The twins sing mostly cover songs, but they have recently started expermenting with writing their own material; Lamb collaborated on a folksy ballad cleverly titled "The Lamb Near The Lane" with David Lane, a neo-nazi terrorist currently serving 190 years in prison for racketeering and civil rights violations. Cool!

I'm sticking with my policy to not link to assy hate sites, but for research purposes, I checked out a couple of their songs. They are styled like your everyday singer/songwriter tripe, and the lyrics tackle what I'm guessing are all the big topics for the white supremicist of today: freedom, valhalla, victory, holy wars, shit like that. Oh, and Lynx and Lamb? They're completely tone deaf. You could almost, ALMOST feel a teeny little bit sorry for the little twerps. Until you remember what you're listening to. Lamb, who seems to be the more proactive of the two, wrote a little ditty all by herself called "Sacrifice" and it's all about her interesting views on heroics. From the mouths of babes:

"Sacrifice, they gave their lives, all those men who have died. Sacrifice, they gave their lives, all those men who have died.

Warrior poet, I sing his songs. Ian Stuart, with his voice so strong. Remember his words, as we sing along.

Rudolph Hess, man of Peace. He wouldn't give up and he wouldn't cease, to give his loyalty to our Cause. Remember him and give a pause.

Robert Matthews knew the Truth. He knew what he had to do. He set an example with Courage so bold. We'll never let that fire grow cold.

Dr. Pierce, a man so wise, helped so many of us open our eyes, and see the future for what it could be: a future for our Race’s eternity." [Caps theirs. FYI, I looked a couple of these guys up—Ian Stuart is a founding member of some nazi punk band and Robert Matthews was a white nationalist killed in a shootout with NYC cops.]

Sadly, judging by their songwriting and April's advice columns, the depths of their writing knows no bounds and the Gaedes love to inundate everyone with wordy missives about how no one understands them and how the media makes them look like assholes. They also have about 249 horribly-penned blogs, including one "written" by their toddler sister (guess what her name is—Dresden!), and one for their family ranch, where they include pics of them marking their cattle with SWASTIKA BRANDS. Holy shit. Don't you have to register that stuff with some kind of livestock commission? Who approved that? Anyway, here's my favorite part, and I had to post a picture of it because there's no way you would believe me. It's a FUCKING HITLER SNOWMAN, complete with stick arm giving the "sieg heil" salute. What the holy living fuck?? This whole family needs to take some serious chill pills.

Does the Count know about these two? Because they might make him change his mind about scampering off to the Norwegian wood to live a life of solitude upon his release—suddenly, he'll be all "COLLABORATION!" and lobby to be their Svengali-style manager. Anyone who says something like "We're proud of being white, we want to keep being white … we don't want to just be, you know, a big muddle" seems like they'd be a girl after the Count's own heart.

If you'd care to read more about these two dingdongs, GQ has run a good article which is reproduced in its' entirety here. I just had to do a post on this because it's hard to believe they are even real. Please tell me this is all a dream!

SON OF WORLD EXCLUSIVES: Seeing Suri

Dear RockitQueen,

Some big things have happened this week. Iran made progress in UN sanctions, British PM Tony Blair announced that he will resign within a year, and the world lost beloved conservationist and TV personality Steve Irwin. Now, I'm just a baby so maybe I don't understand how things work in the world. I mean, I chew on my own feet for god sakes. But I gotta tell you, I'm not so naive I can't at least realize that these stories are kind of newsworthy. I simply can't comprehend why my first trip outdoors is newsworthy, other than the fact that it's MY FIRST TRIP OUTDOORS IN FOUR MONTHS.

That's fucking crazy, is it not? Apparently, it's another one of Tom's Scientology things—he's afraid that I'm going to be tainted by the outside world or some such shit. Dude, I can't even hold my own head up. The most traumatizing thing that happens to me on a daily basis is that I'm spending a good part of the day marinating in my own waste. So what does he do on my first trip out into the world? He sticks me in front of a camera and makes some shady deal to get me on the cover of one of the country's most popular magazines? I don't think I have to tell you that I've already booked a one-way ticket to Dysfunction Junction.

I also probably don't have to tell you that it's no fun having a camera shoved in your face when Tom Cruise is around. He lives for that shit. As soon as the lens cap comes off, that Chiclet-tooth smile lights up and then the laughing starts. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Loud, brazen, never-ending laughter. Now imagine he's holding you and hoisting you up in the air and doing that blowing-on-your-tummy-to-make-a-fart-noise thing—well, it's horrifying when that shit's right up in your face.

As for Mommy, the Fischer-Price Baby Activity Center hanging on my crib has more going on, if you know what I'm saying. The 926,457th time she says, "I'm so happy! Tom is the most amazing man I've ever met! I'm so happy!" you kinda start to think that maybe the Scientology CDs she's been listening to have been skipping or something. Don't get me wrong, I've still got hope for her, but the robo-babe routine is getting old fast.

So, to sum up: everything blows. Again, I'm not asking for pity—just some understanding. And a binky. Is it too much to ask to get a fucking binky?? You can't tell me that's another Scientology no-no. It's total fucking bullshit!

Until next time—and if you see Granny and Gramps Holmes, tell them "the eagle has flown". They'll know what I mean.

Your friend,
Suri Holmes Cruise

Fun with mascots!

Yesterday was a big day in Cowtown, as it was opening day for Buckeye football season. If you don't live here, the only way I can describe this to you is, from now on it's like March in Cabo San Lucas every single weekend. With 10 times the violence and 50 times the mace. The Buckeyes win and everyone sets their own couches on fire in the middle of the street. The Buckeyes lose and you may find your car resting on it's roof the morning after. In other words, it doesn't matter what the result of the game is—if it's football Saturday, your life and property are in imminent danger.

While I don't give a shit one way or another about OSU sports, I do rather enjoy the mascot: Brutus Buckeye. He's got a giant, poisonous nut for a head! And he can do a headstand and spell out O-H-I-O with his legs, which is completely awesome.

I find mascots in general endlessly fascinating and entertaining. Check out that picture above—that's not a furries convention. This was taken at the induction ceremony for the Mascot Hall of Fame. You heard me. If you think that's crazy talk, check this out: the campaign to end violence against mascots (I think it's supposed to actually be serious). Come on, now! Violence against mascots is usually the best part of the whole sports experience, including the actual game. If someone sunk a full-court hail mary shot during the same game that a mascot fell down while trying to lead the crowd in an en masse chicken dance, the first thing I'd tell my friends later is "Slider wiped out!"

Really bad mascots are also amusing. I thought it might be fun to try to find the dumbest and most inexplicable and give out awards to the worst offenders. Feel free to cast your own votes; there's got to be more wonderfully horrendous ones out there that I overlooked.

• Least Intimidating •
-"Lil' Red" (University of Nebraska–Lincoln), an inflatable Campbell's Soup Kid in red overalls
-Violets (New York University), a purple transformer-looking thing
-"Otto the Orange" (Syracuse), literally an orange with arms and legs, wearing a baseball cap
-"Scrappy" (University of Tennessee-Chattanooga), a mockingbird wearing a train-conductor's outfit (get it? Chattanooga Choo-Choo?)
-"Sebastian the Ibis" (University of Miami), a duck wearing a sailor hat
WINNER: "WuShock" (Wichita State University), an anthropomorphic "shock" of wheat. This thing could sweep a couple other awards including Worst Name and Worst Costume. Look at it! It's a yellow Muppet of Alec Baldwin with a fucking wheat grass skirt and wheat sprouting out of his big ridiculous head. What exactly is this mascot going to do to scare the opponent? Wave in the wind? Turn into rice? Get run over by a tractor?

• Geekiest •
-Student Princes (Heidelberg College)
-Poets (Whittier College), a colonial guy with a book and a pen
-Penmen (Southern New Hampshire University)
WINNER: Vulcans (California University of Pennsylvania) Trekkies always win out in the geek department. Imagine the catcalls at those games: "Nerve pinch the Vulcans!"

• Dumbest "Fighting" Mascot •
-Fighting Okra (Delta State University); this nickname was given to the team from fans bored with the "Statesmen" mascot
-Fighting Artichokes (Scottsdale CC)
-Battling Bishops (Ohio Wesleyan)
-Fighting Missionaries (Whitman College)
-Fighting Gobblers (Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University)
WINNER: Fighting Banana Slugs (University of California—Santa Cruz) Can you fight AND be a slug?

• Most Ridiculous Animal Mascot •
-"Petey the Stormy Petrel" (Oglethorpe University); it's a seabird...I didn't know either
-Varmits (Southern Arkansas University Tech)
-Super Bees (University of Baltimore)
WINNER: Geoducks (Evergreen State College), a type of clam which, supposedly, doesn't clamp shut when danger appears

• Weirdest •
-Vixens (Sweet Briar College) , the mascot of an all-girls christian college
-"Thresher" (Bethel College), a threshing stone, whatever that is
-Lord Jeffs (Amherst); named after the guy who exercised germ warfare against Native Americans by giving them blankets coated with smallpox
-Blue Hose (Presbyterian College), formerly the Blue Stockings; basically now the Blue Pantyhose
WINNER: "Gompei" (Worcester Polytechnic Institute), the bronzed head of a dead goat. Maybe they could put wheels on it and race it against the ram's head snuff mull.

• Worst Name •
-Ichabods (Washburn University); this school is not in New York, so I have no idea what this name means
-"Knightro" (University of Central Florida), the golden knight
-Claim Jumpers (Columbia College-Hollywood)
-Lumberjills (Northland College), counterpart to the men's teams' LumberJACKS. Ha!
WINNER: Nads (Rhode Island School of Design); the cheerleaders are nicknamed the "Jockstraps" because they support the Nads—criminy

• Dumbest Costume •
-"Keggy the Keg" (Dartmouth), an unofficial mascot that irritates the living crap out of people on the HOME bench
-"Puckman" (Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute), a stupid walking hockey puck
–"The Troll" (Trinity Christian College), named for TRinity cOLLege (lame), this dumpy ogre represents a school that operates under the slogan "Momentum for Life"
WINNER: "The Stanford Tree" (Stanford University), a dancing pine tree that looks more like a melting garbage bag with a Gacy-like, clownish smiley face. This makes you wish California would go a little lax with the logging regulations.

So who are the best mascots? Well, Freddie and Freida Falcon (Bowling Green State University), of course...I'm biased; that's my alma mater. I also think the Michigan State Spartan costume is frigging hilarious. But the very best mascots in the whole wide world aren't college mascots at all—it's the Racing Sausages! Representing the Milwaukee Brewers baseball club, the Hot Dog, Polish Sausage, Italian Sausage, and German Bratwurst, and with their gigantic heads and stereotypical appearances (leiterhosen!), compete in a race during the seventh inning stretch of each home game. The Sausages made headlines a couple of years ago when one of the players tapped the Polish Sausage as he was running by and sent him (and the chick inside the costume) sprawling across the field, taking the Italian Sausage down with him. Everyone got all upset about it and, to my delight, the footage was run over and over on the news—it's hilarious! OK, OK, the chick didn't get hurt or anything, and in fact she thought it was funny, so it's OK for us to laugh. Sadly, I couldn't find the footage of this wipeout, but I found this footage, which is just as hilarious. Encased meats with little arms and legs flailing—does it get any better?

The VMAs: God, I feel old

Sitting here watching the MTV Video Music Awards, not only to I hate pretty much everything that's played but I have no fucking idea who 80 percent of these people are. And I don't even recognize the people I DO know. For example, when did Jordan Catalano become a sad little goth?

Anyway, I love nothing more than to make fun of awards shows, and the VMAs always provide the best fodder. Let's see if I can make it through the ceremony without putting my foot through the TV. I'll try, so I can provide my usual important observations.

• First off, who are these douchebags in the audience? Enough with the "WHOOO!" and the blatant misuse of the devil horn hand gesture ("The All-American Rejects" do, in fact, NOT rock and do not deserve the horns). I want these people tasered immediately.

• Christina Aguilara's husband must have the biggest penis in the whole world.

• Someone needs to put a stop to James Blunt. Not only does his music make kittens weep, he's also excruciatingly unattractive.

• Unfortunately, Jessica Simpson seems to have gotten her voice back. And she still can't read. By the way, I love that now that Ashlee has gotten a nose job and is quickly becoming "the hot one," her family ships her off to London to star on-stage in "Chicago". Get out of the country, you little mistake! Daddy needs some "alone time" with Jess.

• I'm going to have to do a fangirl post on "Jackass". I love "Jackass". I can't wait for the new "Jackass" movie.

• Who is this "Shawn White" person? He looks like Carrot Top and I don't like it.

• Ringtone of the Year? Are you kidding? And Fort Minor? Who the frig is that? And why in the world did he go on and on and on and on and on and on? For winning Ringtone of the Year?

• Sometimes I think I'm the only person in the world that hates Sarah Silverman. But I can't bring myself to hate Justin Timberlake and I don't know why. Maybe because he's bringing sexy back. And because he dumped Britney.

• Which brings me to Britney. My god. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it does—and it's thrilling! Tonight's appearance with her lovely hubby was reminicent of the Clampetts rollin' into Nu Yawrk Sittay trying to look purty for the pavarottis. Oh, but wait, it seems like they weren't REALLY in the Big Apple, but rather via satellite. Which is probably a good thing. Remember Brit's last trip to NYC?

• Thank god for OK Go, because they were the only thing about this whole debacle that didn't make me want to run into oncoming traffic. Oh, and Jack White! He was playing with The Raconteurs throughout the ceremony. He's still one of my boyfriends. And the drummer and bass player are from The Greenhornes—OK, so maybe I do know some of these people.

So for all you young kids, I bet you'll be suitably impressed when I tell you that I went to the VMAs the year they had all those guys dressed up as Eminem walk in. Remember that? I believe it was in 2001. Pretty cool, huh? OK, I didn't actually GO...I just stood outside. And when I say "outside" I mean like three blocks away. Pretty much the only thing I saw was a horrible performance from Linkin Park on the marquee of Radio City Music Hall. It totally blew. So, not so cool.

Well, I guess that means I am getting old, because things sure ain't like they used to be. Remember when Duff and Slash staggered onstage shitfaced to accept an award and it was this big huge deal that Slash said "fuck"? Gone are those days, my friend. Now it's de rigour. As are making weed and orgy jokes and saying "make some noise"! Maybe they should have some kind of a contest for a lucky MTV viewer: that person gets a nickel everytime someone says that, "how y'all doin' tonight", "give it up for [shitty performer or presenter]", or describes something as "amazing". And they get $100,000 if they don't fall asleep.

Fuck tornadoes—let's watch some creepy music vids!

So we here in Columbus are under a tornado warning as I write this, and the local weather asses are currently interrupting my shows to jack off about the inclement weather. Right now they are showing a picture of *a* tornado, but not *the* tornado that allegedly just touched down (!) and "inflicted damage" on a barn in the middle of a field south of the city. Whatevs. I'd rather discuss old music vids again, 'cause that's more interesting. Fuck this weather shit. Where the hell am I gonna go anyway? There's no basement in this place! So basically, I'm a goner. I might as well try to get one more good post out before all hell breaks loose.

My (potentially last) topic: creepy videos! And I'm going to kick it off with an Official RockitQueen Embarrassing Confession™. Remember Herbie Hancock's video for "Rockit" back in the '80s, the one with all the mannequins and the robot bird eating cereal? (If not, you can see it right here.) OK, it's awesome and it was all innovative for the time and everyone was always talking about it when it came out, but I HATE HEADLESS MANNEQUINS. Let alone torsoless mannequins that are walking around and jumping out of closets. And then there are the disembodied heads on sticks that are still talking. TERRIFYING! Yet mesmerizing.

So I thought it would be kind of fun to torture myself by uncovering the creepiest videos ever. And by fun, I mean "fun." Let me know what you think. Oh, yeah, and most of these are totally NSFW.

"Come To Daddy", Aphex Twin
Let's kick it off with what I believe to be the ultimate creepy video. It starts off with a cute little grandma walking a large dog and all of a sudden a bunch of little girls come running out of nowhere and scare the shit out of her. Only these aren't just any little girls. They are little girls ALL WITH THE FACE OF THE APHEX TWIN GUY! And then they start running. And chasing. And fighting. And smashing things. And throwing rocks at some guy. All the time with shit-eating grins on their eerie little faces. And then, in what is probably the creepiest moment in video history, one of them smashes up against the guy's car window as he's trying to get the keys in the ignition. For the love of all that's holy, guy, GUN IT! Luckily, he gets away, but then it gets worse: a big-headed alien with fucked up teeth shows up and screams and spits all over the little old lady! The disturbing little girls gather around the alien (which reminds you of Michael Jackson crotch-deep in a crowd of kids), a few scenes of the sickeningly thin alien are thrown in and—guess what!—the alien now also has the face of the Aphex Twin guy. And then when you connect the title of the song to the imagry, you immediately crawl into a corner and curl up in the fetal postion. (If you enjoyed that and wanna see another unsettling Aphex Twin vid, you're totally sick and you could check out this fucked-up shit—"Windowlicker". You're going to want to take a shower after this one.)

"Stinkfist (Track 1)", Tool
This is a video that's cool in theory. The song kicks ass and the staging is unlike anything else you've ever seen (except maybe other Tool videos). But christ almighty, what is going on here?? It's so fucking bizarre! It's a bunch of fuzzy people with pulsating tumors who are swallowing nails and crawling out of cocoons and breathing into these freakishly large dental apparatii. And then there is the eyeball touch. Oh god, the eyeball touch! The twitching and the arm that falls off and even the squirming larvae-esque tube worm at the end don't bother me as much as that fucking eyeball touch.

"Rock DJ", Robbie Williams
Here we have another variation on the "Stinkfist" video, only this one is supposed to be funny. Sadly, you have to wade through to the very end—past Robbie's horrible dancing and the excruciatingly bad song—when Robbie begins ripping hunks of his own flesh off and hurling it at the video skanks who then proceed to seductively rub this ROTTING MEAT all over themselves. Robbie literally strips himself down to the bone and the video ends with the skanks humping his skeleton, which is still busting out the embarrassingly bad dance moves. Again with the dancing dead! Anyway, I nominate this one because not only is the content creepy, but when you hear this cornball pop song playing over it...well, the whole thing is just surreal.

"Owner Of A Lonely Heart", Yes
Bear with me on this one. Yes, it starts off with the typical '80s band-in-the-studio gimmick with the band wearing the worst outfits ever (and what the living holy fuck is the drummer wearing anyway?). But THEN, the song pauses and the singer stares menacingly into the camera and suddenly we are plunged into some kind of bizarre '80s dream sequence where one of the band members morphs into a snake while sitting in what looks like an Edsel. Unfortunately, the song then starts over, only this time it's a WHOLE NEW video in edgy black and white, and a guy gets snatched out of a crowd by the secret service or something, is dragged to a warehouse and then ganged up on by the band and proceeds to jump off of a building. This is all interspersed with scenes of reptiles and amphibians. And then a guy washes his face with maggots. Warhol gone Reagan-era, I guess.

"Scrape", Unsane
This is another one that probably fits more appropriately under the header of "completely unsettling", rather than simply "creepy". Basically, it's three minutes and 15 seconds of the most hellishly brutal skateboarding wipeouts you've ever witnessed, including anything you've ever seen on Jackass. Anyone who has seen this will remember it forever, but they'll never be able to tell you the name of the song, or the band. So I don't know what that means for Unsane, but there you go.

"Happiness In Slavery", Nine Inch Nails OK, I'm completely warning you on this one. We all know how much I covet Trent, and in fact the devilishly brilliant clip for "Closer" is my favorite video of all time (you can see the uncut version here, you big perv!), but this is one motherfucking fucked up video. In fact, it was universally banned for featuring performance artist Bob Flanigan buck naked and torturing himself (including some truly unique sack yanking) to the death and then getting sent through a meat grinder. Bear in mind that, except for the death at the end, it's all REAL. Shudder. "Hostel" looks like "House Party" compared to this.

"Parabol/Parabola", Tool
Tool again. Fat guy. Flat head. Levitation. Black puke. Falling rocks. Amphibious guy who may or may not be Tricky. Robot with human teeth. Animatronic character who may or may not be Jack Skellington. Skellington dissection. See-through human body from your high school health class. Yet another mindfuck from Tool.

"Like A Pimp", David Banner
Unfortunately, I might have imagined this during one of my "spells", but I swear I didn't make this up and I can't find a clip of it anywhere that I don't have to pay, and I'm cheap. Anyway, this run-of-the-mill, gin-n-juice-style rhyme is played over "Blair Witch"-style hand-held camera scenes of Dave and some other rapper running through a scary cemetery at night while being chased by hooded Klansmen. While it bothered the shit out of me, I applaud any rap video that doesn't feature skanks in hot tubs pouring Cristal over their asses.

Well, after all that excitement, our tornado warning has passed with nary a raindrop nor errant gust of wind. In fact, the sun actually came out for the first time this whole day. I am officially declaring the voodoo science that is meteorology the creepiest thing that's I've witnessed this entire evening.

The requisite commercial hate post

Watching endless hours of television may rot your brain, but that doesn't mean you're any dumber than then average advertising exec. Well, maybe "dumb" is a little harsh of a word...yes, I can do better than that. Perhaps "uncreative", "insipid", "bland", "vapid" and "obtuse" are better words to describe what comes on in the other 20 minutes of each hour of TV time. A man named after the patron saint of quality footwear once said, "There is a fine line between clever and stupid," and some of the commercials I've seen recently don't cheekily tiptoe the line so much as they attempt to sprint across it, then slip off and get crotched.

MSNBC (the network fast becoming my go-to source for links, it seems) just did this roundup of the best and worst commercials. The worst include the Lamisil toenail monster (amen to that) and Head On "Apply it directly to your head!" headache snake oil. Heading up the favorites are the series featuring the Geiko cavemen ("Not! Cool!"). Sadly, my personal fave was nowhere to be seen (but here it is in all it's glory: "Ooh, baby, baby!"), nor were my current most loathed:

• Kraft Crumbles...they're crumbelievable! Possibly the worst revamping of a song in a commercial ever.

• The Universal Studios ads—"I want to get closer to my children." You know what I'm talking about. All those people having all that exaggerated fun is beyond embarrassing.Especially those poor kids that get smothered into that woman's gargantuous bosom. Someday those kids' classmates will find out about their past in commercial work and when they realize this one is on their resume, they're pretty much dead.

• Why are people personally calling Lindsay Wagner about the Sleep Number Bed and how did they get her phone number? That unappealing couple that advocates it who are "at a 35 now" or some such shit certainly don't sell me, either.

• Anything having to do with Wal-Mart and their pitiful attempts at trying to be "cool" and "hip". "Get your Alan Jackson on!" You're kidding, right? Oh, you're not? Ow.

I'm in full support of this guy and his website of shitty commercial rants. Here's a little preview; see if you can guess which ad this is and what they're shilling before you get to the end of the rant:

"Today, we're doing self-portraits. But I want you to paint your SOUL!"

Raising a power fist, the painting instructor surveys her students. Paint your soul, she says, and this old foxy lady clearly knows all about soul. She is one bas-ass headscarf-wearin funky fresh old school soul SISTA. This is a woman with black velvet paintings of afro ladies in her living room.

One student in particular looks Mighty Pleased with herself. As she pours her soul out onto the canvas, the wise instructor comes around to have a look.

"Oh," she says, "Now THAT's what I'm talkin 'bout," as if giving the definitive answer to Arnold Drummond's oft-repeated query.

So what did the girl paint? A fucking Jeep.

A giant ass SUV. That's her soul.

A corporate symbol. That's HER SOUL!

A possession. Something she owns. Is her SOUL!

And the old bitch bought it! "Yeah, girl, that's yo soul right there. Yo Soul is a Jeep."

Shoot me! What the frickety frack is THAT?

Sing it, dude. I would say at least it wasn't a Hummer, but well, at least it wasn't a diamond anniversary ring that was mined by an 8-year-old in Zaire and three people lost their lives for so someone could spend two months' salary on it for you. 'Cause all us greedy bitches want are expensive jewels. And Jeeps.

Tromsø Prison Blues

The past few days I, along with a phalanx of others with nothing better to do, have been rivited by the lurid tale of Suspicious Perv Bailjumpers Association prez John Mark Karr, alleged killer of mini-pageanteer JonBenet Ramsey. So is that guy creepy or what? He scares me through the TV...like I think he can see me or something. He's a bigger freak than Blue Velvet's Frank and Ben combined! But don't worry—this post is not about him.

Instead, I'm turning my attention to yet another jailed freakshow and I bet you'll never guess who it is: our beloved Count Grishnackh! And I'm starting to get a little worried about him—seems he doesn't have things quite as good at Tromsø Prison as he did at his last place of incarceration (the one where he bragged about having conjugals). This troubling news is brought to us courtesy of the official Burzum website (which I will still not link to):

"Regarding corresponding with V. Vikernes: the conditions in Tromsø prison where Varg was moved to in June are quite severe, and because of that he has problems in answering to your letters sent to the prison address. Please be patient to wait for the answer even if it takes several months! Or at least wait for the moment when the conditions will be changed and Varg will not have such problems as this one."

OK, so what exactly are these "problems" that the webmaster is cryptically alluding to? It could be anything! Maybe he's being regularly roughed up by the guards or maybe they just won't let him watch "Flavor of Love" on the common room telly. In my dreams, he's been made the bitch of some sexual deviant ironically nicknamed "Tiny" and is currently suffering from a punctured colon, in addition to a killer case of the clap, and is too delerious to answer mail. In reality he's probably on a hunger strike because the caf switched over to Hormel pudding from his favorite Jell-O brand to save money.

But wait! There's more. The next big question on everyone's lips remains unanswered, according to the elusive Burzum admin:

"Also, please don't ask me when Varg will be released. I don't know that! And I don't even think Varg knows that for sure. Anyway, it looks like this (unfortunately) won't happen in the nearest future. In case I have ANY information regarding this subject, I will post it here. So don't worry to miss this moment."

That's right—don't worry to miss this moment, as the answer is between god's lips and the warden's ears. In the meantime, Varg has penned more fun articles to educate and inform us, including "The Mystery of Time", "Why Paganism?" and, my personal fave, "Supernatural Selection." In this fascinating report, the Count instructs, "The most cunning will indeed survive, at the expense of all others, but the world will turn into a horrible animal planet. We actually have a name on these most cunning creatures amongst us; they are called psychopaths!"

Whatever, dude. I've heard this rap before. I believe it was R.D. Laing (or was it Vic Tayback?) who said, "Life is a sexually transmitted disease." Succinct, to the point and memorable, unlike the endless, forgettable scriptures that the Count regurgitates ad nauseum. Maybe they took his crayons away from him and that's why his living conditions have been ceremoniously deemed "severe." Take note, brah...less is more. Here's another famous quote for you: more than words to show you feel that your love for me is real. In other words, shut your pie hole.

Anyway, I think it's funny that he's STILL bitching about how no one understands him and his problems. Maybe he should call Matt Lauer and schedule a primetime interview so he can whine about how horribly he's been treated since he committed first degree murder on a dude who was wearing nothing but a pair of underpants. It's classic Count. If he's so upset about his prison life, why don't we cram him in a cell with John Mark Karr and see how he likes that! Something tells me Karr's not going to be too interested the Count's nonstop airing of opinions on everything from history to Jell-O pudding. Come to think of it, I wonder who would make it out of that cell first. My vote's on Karr—something tells me even the Count is no match for that shit.

Celebration Day

Hall of famer, resident hot piece of ass and my past-life boyfriend Robert Plant is 57 years old today. Just thought I'd tell ya.

Because you're worth it

I realize I've been on yet another one of my famous negative streaks around here of late. How unlike me. I'm sure those of you who know me in "real life" are stunned, but I hope you will give me a break (and no, I'm not despondent because Bradley got kicked off Project Runway last week—simply disappointed). There's been a bit of a gray cloud over RockitQueen HQ the last month or so, but don't worry, as I've been reading Jeanne Bice's feel-good-isms on a bi-daily basis and suddenly little rays of sunshine have begun to rip through the clouds like so many errant javelin.

Here's something else that never ceases to amuse me: DisturbingAuctions.com. What must have been months upon months of research has unearthed the most useless, ungodly and terrifying items put up for auction on eBay, and the results are wildly amusing, yet creepily disquieting. One wonders how so many people got the idea that they could get this stuff off their hands by assuming someone would want to actually purchase them. It's a mystery what category some of these would fall under. You would find them searching for...what? "Novelty salt n' pepper shakers"? "Dolls with no heads that might kill me in my sleep"? "Dead animal carcasses repurposed for household decor"?

There's so much to love here: hideous "artwork", totally undignified novelties, grotesquely overused toys, and some of the dumbest gag gifts you've ever seen outside of Spencer's. Notice that the enticing copy written for that last one boasts "FUNNY CHICKEN HAT, Elasticized to fit most heads, Imagine your next barbecue." Yes, imagine. Then imagine your family and friends merely lured you into an intervention with the promise of a barbecue, because anyone that would buy such a thing (USED, no less) must be doing some hardcore inhalants.

My personal favorite is the "ram's head snuff moll"—it's simply genius! It takes a true artiste to look at a disembodied ram's head and think, "Hey, this would make the perfect recepticle for my grungy pipe ash! And while I'm at it, why don't I throw some wheels on too, just for fun?" Brilliant! Now you can just shove it across the room, like a beer sliding down a bar old West-style, so Gramps can tap his pipe out. And also, great taxidermy job. You'd never know that ram's dead. Let's hope whomever bought it appreciates it for the one-of-a-kind example of true wizardry it is, unlike the snooty seller.

Anyway, if you're bored at work, cruise on over to Disturbing Auctions for a little pick-me up chuckle. It'll chase those little dark clouds away before you know it.

MTV ruins relationships

Sorry about my last semi-drunken post, which I think came off as both abrasive and a little bit sad. I'm hoping to make it up to you with a return to sex, drugs and rock n' roll. With a special focus on one. The one that isn't sex and isn't rock n' roll, I'm sorry to say.

In celebration, here is yet another fun pic of an extraordinarily fucked up Pete Doherty , who should be the poster boy for "Just Say No." Don't do drugs, everyone. That is, unless you WANT to look like an anorexic Russian nesting doll, like Pete. In that case, drugs en masse are for you! A few good drinkies mixed with a handful of dolls and we have tomorrow's headlines on our hands. In the immortal words of Mike Schank, star of the legendary films "Coven" (pronounced coe-vin) and the as-yet-unfinished "Northwestern", "Here's what I think of the lottery. It's like, when you play the lottery, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. But it better than using drugs or alcohol. Because when you use drugs and alcohol, especially drugs, you always lose."

You know what else always makes you lose? Starring on an MTV reality show. You're probably thinking, "Well, THAT's totally revolutionary", but what I mean is, not only does being an MTV reality alum make you one of the biggest tools on the planet, but it's also hazardous to your personal relationships and all-out murder on your marriage. If you're anything like me, you're still not over the demise of Nick n' Jessica. Honestly, if those two can't make it, what hope is there for the rest of the celebrities who pimp their marriages out to Viacom? None, the answer is none.

Just last week the world was stunned to learn that the king and queen of bimbo/himbo pairings Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra have gone their separate ways. After getting a free wedding, courtesy of their one-season series "Til Death Do Us Part", and then occasionally showing up at premieres and Hollywood parties before Dave got the gig co-hosting "Rockstar" and Carmen...kept doing what exactly it is she does. Now their union is nothing but dust in the wind. These two posed nude on coroner's tables for their engagement picture for god sakes! All I can figure is that the heated "who's prettier" debates became tiresome and they just decided to throw that one to the wolves. That, or Carmen revealed that she still kinda likes The Worm.

While we've barely been allowed time to let that devastating news sink in, we are hit with another bombshell—this week we find out that Travis Barker and Shanna Moakler of "Meet The Barkers" are no more. My god, I think my head is going to explode; this breakup is even more baffling. Could it be that Shanna was tired of being poked by Travis's spiky mohawk and sundry piercings, or was Trav irritated that his beauty queen wife couldn't be bothered to get out of bed for, well, pretty much anything short of taking yet another pregnancy test? Whatever the reason, I simply can't believe this. Next thing you're going to tell me is that Jason and LC called it quits. Oh, wait...NOOOOOOOOOO!

So what's the point of all this? Drugs. Drugs are the answer to everything. The only explanation is that not enough were involved here. Have you ever noticed that drug addicts always stay together? Look at Pete and Kate Moss—the more drugs he does, the more she fights for his love. Forget these other boring couples, MTV needs to break this bad-luck streak by giving these two their own show. Hilarity ensues when Kate loses more modeling accounts thanks to an errant camera-phone shot of her with her face in a snowdrift at Donatella Versace's mansion, and Pete presents Prince Charles with an original blood painting that he did himself. That would be all kinds of awesome!

A secret brainwashing plot is being administered by the Quacker Factory!

Aww, are you having a bad day? Well, I know just how to cheer you up, little one...just read these charming little pick-me-up axioms from head Quacker Factory nutcase Jeanne Bice and then—like magic—everything will be all better! Ahhhh! So inspiring...

• Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the heck happened!
• The hardest years in life are those between 10 and 70!
• I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows!
• Every time I close the door on reality it comes in through the windows.
• When I was young, I was put in a school for retarded kids for two years before they realized a I actually had a hearing loss. And they called me slow!

Wait a minute. Um, Jeanne...that's a bit Dark Ages of you. Do you still think that ducking beneath your desk and covering your head will protect you from atomic bomb fallout? Do you think EST will shock all the crazies back into reality? If not, we can just scrape their frontal lobes a bit and get rid of the "bad brain." Retards! Huh huh!

Oh, sorry. Seems as if there's some bad energy around here. Let's just push that stinkin' thinkin' right out of our heads with some more cheerful quips. Jeanne says, "Take a little time to read through these. I think they are wonderful!" Thanks, Jeanne!

• Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
• Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have, or sleep all you want.
• Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
• Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt, but it's the only way to live life completely.
• Smile when you pick up the phone, the caller will hear it in your voice.
• A gentle reminder—that the most precious things in life cannot be built by hand or bought by man.
• Each day comes bearing its own gifts—untie the ribbons.
• Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things!
• Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle.

While all those have certainly helped to turn my frown upside down, this last one really just says it all: Triumph is just try with a little ooomph!

You go, girl! Jeanne Bice is truly an inspiration to obese, stagnant housefraus everywhere.

Do you see what's happening here? The Quacker Factory is a modern-day equivalent to the tagesparole, making Jeanne Bice the 21st-century incarnation of Goebbels!! I'm calling Bellevue and demanding they surround this woman's home and take her by force. They may need to call out SWAT and have mace guns at the ready because she is a bonafide, grade-A, 100 percent complete and total raving lunatic. I mean, call me crazy, but do people actually find these tired, empty, meaningless expressions uplifting in any way, shape or form? They are beyond fucking ridiculous! What is wrong with you, Jeanne Bice, and your ilk?? Are you so bored with your lobotomized Stepford lives that you seriously find this shit empowering?

I just can't believe it. Why does this woman get any kind of serious publicity? It's a conspiracy, I tell you! A plot! Disney is in on it, as is General Electric. Damn you, Jeanne Bice, damn you and your propadanda to hell! I'm going to dig up some dirt on you and expose you for the phony you are if it's the last thing I do. Mark my words!!

Ug, I need to stop now. I'm getting too angry and, also, I'm past due to take my medication. The penguins won't let me sleep until I take my medication...

Don't fuck with fashion

So last night was the "Project Runway" everyone has been waiting for, the one where some stupid bastard breaks the rules and gets thrown off the show. Turns out Keith, the big huge asshole that everyone hates, is the stupid bastard in question, and is asked to leave for having pattern books, of all things. These professionals must wing it in order to be in. The irrepressible Tim Gunn also alludes that Keith "left the production for several hours and used the internet", also both big no-nos according to the contract the participants sign.

Good lord almighty, why didn't they elaborate on this? If you are a PR junkie, like myself, you must immediately head over to iTunes and subscribe to Tim Gunn's weekly podcast—they are completely addictive and brimming with juicy behind-the-scenes goss. Plus, it's Tim "What Happened To Andre?" Gunn. He's so awesome. The soothing sound of his voice and his sarcastic quips instantly raise my Will To Live Level, if just a little bit.

Anyway, I'll fill you on the best parts of the Keith scoop, 'cause it's pretty funny. Tim explains in today's podcast that while the designers were in the midst of this week's Macy's challenge, they were also given a couple of days "off" in order to film commercials and the show intro. Just before leaving for the studio to film, Keith makes a break for it and disappears for several hours, during which a stand-in was employed during the opening credits sequence. So the next time you catch the intro, check out Keith: his smug little head was Photoshopped onto the body of some production dude! Hilarious! Talk about making it work...

We were also led to believe by the show that bitchy pageant queen Kayne reported to producers that Keith was stashing how-to books under his bed, but apparantly the allegations had occurred much earlier in the process. Of course, Kayne blew it all up into a dramatic, frenzied fiasco alleging that Keith was sneaking into the bathroom in the middle of the night and running the shower for an hour while he poured through his patternmaking books (um, Kayne, something tells me he probably wasn't "reading", but if that's what you want to call it, whatevs). So Tim is forced to visit the Atlas™ apartments to give the Keithster his walking papers. The designers are crushed. And by crushed, I mean thrilled. Says Laura, "Keith, what an asshole. I'm glad to see him gone."

So now I can concentrate on hating Jeffrey and that horrible tattoo on his neck and Angela and her obsession with those fucking rosettes. So stupid! She's from Ohio and I hate it. This is who we have to represent us Buckeyes in reality land: Angela, Beth S., the Miz, Jen Schefft and this annoying, pointy-face.

My favorites are Michael Knight from Hotlanta—he rocks! And he's hot! And his name is Michael Knight! And I think he might be straight. Wow, a straight man who can make a really cool dress out of coffee filters? It's like seeing a unicorn. I also like Alison Kelly, the little blonde girl. I think she definitely has the potential to win the whole thing, but she's too much like last season's winner, Chloe. And I have an Official RockitQueen Embarrassing Crush™ on Bradley, the scruffy little squid without an ocean. What is wrong with me?? I want to pet his scruffy little head, force-feed him a home-cooked meal and tuck him in—and then "make it work", as it were. I think he might be straight, too, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Whatever. I'm just a perv, and we all know this.

Next week: Kors is finally back (thank god, because Vera Wang looks exactly like that ghost from "The Grudge" and it's scaring me), Diane von Furstenburg sits in on the panel and hopefully delivers some good, bitchy comments, and Nina Garcia resumes her role as der kommissar of the Fashion Police. Lighten up, Nina, it's fashion!

Lola exposes cuddle parties!

May I direct you to my West Coast sista's blog Dingos Took My Baby for her latest, truly brill rant on the terrifying phenomenon of "cuddle parties." Lola's done it again: excellent research combined with a quick wit...she's awesome!

Enjoy, bitches!