Let's play a game: Music! Challenge!

So, I have a confession to make. A really embarrassing one.

And no, it has nothing to do with tequila. Well, this time.

It's about music.

Aside from a brief flirtation into the world of grrrrl bands and indie rock in college, I...am kind of a music lame-o. I blame New Kids on the Block for starting me down this run-of-the-mill, frothy pop/rock road. I was an impressionable young 7th grader, and their fresh-faced questionable harmonies just roped me right in. Before I knew it, my bedroom was plastered with life-sized pictures of Joey McIntyre and that other one with the girly voice, and they were the only music that ever graced my giant boombox.



And even when Nirvana came along and yanked me out of the boy-band doldrums, it was a short-lived victory before I was peer-pressured away by my friends' love for mid-90s country music. (Yeah, I know. I still have a soft spot for Collin Raye, though. Leave me alone.)

But here's the thing: After college? Music wasn't really on my radar -- at least not cutting-edge music. As a lifelong singer and music lover, this probably seems like a travesty of epic proportions, but...I was busy. I had my first job, my first apartment. I moved to the city, I met my husband, reality TV was invented... Before I knew it, I hadn't purchased a CD in years and I found myself listening to middle-of-the-road Columbus pop mush and classic rock stations on the way to work. Then I started listening to Bob and Tom.

(Let's please pause for a moment of silence while I regret this phase of my life.

...

OK. Moving on.)

With the advent of satellite radio, it's almost gotten worse. There are too many choices, so I fall back on the old reliable pop stations. Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, the Black Eyed Peas, Beyonce -- it's all there. And it's fine. I guess.

But there's some part of me that's longing to recapture a little of that college indie rock phase. Or at least listen to something that isn't played in my trying-to-be-hip dentist's office and replayed on pop stations every 15 minutes to the swooning of pre-teens. Justin Bieber and his stupid, stupid hair make my soul cry, and I don't think I'm alone in this.

Recently, I started listening to a satellite radio station that plays some old faves from the '90s (The Verve, anyone?), but also throws on some folks I've never heard before. I'm intrigued by these new (to me) bands, but aside from looking them up on Wikipedia, I know nothing about them. And, more importantly...I don't know if they're really any good, or if I'll just like that one song.

So here's where you come in. I trust you much more than Wikipedia, after all, and I know some of you are serious music junkies/aficionados. So I'm asking you, please: Help me? Help me stop being a middle-of-the-road, music lame-o? Broadening my musical horizons means that, somewhere, Ke$ha (ugh) loses a little bit of her dubious magical powers.



Working together, we can make a difference.

So. Your challenge is twofold: First, I've listed some of the bands I've recently discovered below. Familiar with them? Tell me, in the comments, what you think. Are they worth my time and, possibly, cash? Or just a flash in the pan and/or into devil worship? (Now, before you get all up on your too-cool-for-school musical high-horse, all, "WTF, woman, {X Band} came out 15 years ago! Where have you been?!" -- I get it. I'm lame. That's kind of the whole point here. So just humor me, OK?)

And second, do you have a super-great indie hipster band in your back pocket that I just HAVE to know about/listen to/follow obsessively around the country? Tell me about it. I promise to listen with an open mind and report back to you. Don't worry about what I may or may not like, music-wise -- my tastes are pretty eclectic -- but if you're concerned, the bands I've listed below should give you a reasonable idea of what I enjoy.

Let the challenge begin! (And thanks, in advance, for your help.)

1. The Black Keys: I'm listing them first because I just saw that they hosted SNL last week, which means they probably are more middle-of-the-road than what I'm going for here. But I want your opinions nonetheless.
2. Cage the Elephant: I thoroughly enjoy "No Rest for the Wicked." Anything else?
3. The Decemberists
4. Ray Lamontagne: I have a sneaking suspicion he's one of those "This guy has been around FOREVER -- HOW have you never heard of him?" dudes. (And I'm pretty sure he sings that version of "Trouble" that's in the commercial about the dog hiding his bone.) But I like the guy's voice, so...he makes the list.
5. The Midway State
6. Spoon: I swear I've heard of them before, but I don't know why. Help?
7. Coconut Records
8. Eric Hutchinson: Not exactly the most badass rocker name, but I'm willing to give him a try if he's worth it.
9. The Thrills
10. Imogen Heap: Now, I'm not completely dense; I HAVE heard of Ms. Heap, and I've thoroughly enjoyed what I've heard. But I'd like your thoughts -- is she worth an extra look? Any of her stuff better than others?
    

I'm good, thanks.

I'm a huge fan of Glee.

I will proudly admit that I get a little bit high-school-girly-SQUEE when I see the finger-L come on the screen, and I really enjoyed the Rocky Horror Glee Show last week.

And I may or may not have purchased one of the soundtracks for Season 1.

But? I'm kind of tired of their semi-preachy commercials for recycling and the proper disposal of batteries and whether or not I'm going to hell if I don't have a low-flow toilet.

Listen, I get it. Kids watch the show. They look up to the cast. We want kids to recycle and care about the environment and do great things for the planet. I'm totally down with that. It's fine.

I just have a problem with taking life advice from someone who plays a fictional character, takes private jets to premieres and does a weekly juice cleanse to stay at a size 0.

It makes me super glad I DVR the show so I can fast-forward through it because: Enough.

Celebrity Smackdown: Brett Favre Edition

Dear Brett Favre,

As recently as last week, the image above would've evoked a hearty "Well, hello there, howdyado?" from me, followed by some awkward winking and possibly throat-growling.

Whenever your Wrangler ad came on the ol' telly, I made everyone stop talking so I could gawk at your grizzly hotness in perfect silence.

When T tried repeatedly to dissuade my adoration by reminding me that you are a grandfather, I told him to shut it. I would totally have brought you tea and wrapped you in an afghan and rubbed your bunions.

The fact that you were married and, by all appearances, a devoted family man, made you even more attractive. You stood by your wife through her battle with cancer. You're actually involved with your kids (and, OK, grandkids). And something-football-quarterback-records-blah blah blah.

All awesome.

And then, I found out you're being accused of parading your weiner around like a show dog at the Westminster.

By a myriad of women, some of them married, and all of them NOT YOUR WIFE.

And there's always the possibility that those women are lying. But if we've learned anything at all from President Clinton and Tiger Woods, it's that where there's a Paula Zahn, there's usually also a Monica Lewinsky waiting to throw a stained dress at you, and where there's a reality show contestant with incriminating voicemails, there's also a Perkin's waitress waiting to "take your order," if you get what I'm saying.

So today, Brett, I'm officially breaking up with you.

You're no longer my Sunday afternoon boyfriend.

While I'll never deny that you rock the crap out of a pair of jeans...you really need to learn how to keep them on. I'm saying.

Now quit all your boo-hooing and go get some help, instead of buying your wife a giant diamond like everyone else in this situation seems to.

All the best (you stinky, stinky cheater),

Shannon

Brooke Shields is a shyster

Full disclosure up front: I am probably the last person on earth who should be writing anything about makeup.

Foundation makes me break out. Blush makes me look like I should be crawling out of those tiny cars with my fellow circus clowns. Lipstick...just calls attention to the fact that I have no lips.

But the one thing I do wear is eye makeup. And while God gave me big brown eyes, He didn't see fit to also grant me long, beautiful eyelashes to match. So when I hear the siren call of a mascara commercial pimping "Fuller, longer lashes!" I sit up and pay attention. I have gone through multiple drawers-full of tried-and-failed lash lengtheners, lash strengtheners, lash plumpers, lash fullifiers... It's like my own personal Quest for the One True Ring.

So I'm watching TV the other day and I hear Brooke Shields start giving the usual "longer, fuller, darker" spiel. LATISSE®! It's fabulous! It helps you GROW MORE LASHES! It's backed by science! And experiments! And...scientists who do experiments!

But...wait. A prescription? Irritation? Permanent pigmentation? A list of side effects that lasts longer than the rest of the commercial?

Why, Brooke Shields? (I have to refer to her by her full name. She's Brooke Shields.) Why are you promising lash superstardom, only to sour it with a 30-minute disclaimer about how this product is probably going to make my eyeballs fall out?

I've done some research (by which I mean I've spent six minutes skimming the Latisse website; that's how I roll), and while the "possible increased brown iris pigmentation that is likely to be permanent" is disturbing, this freaked me out the most:

"Also, it is possible for hair growth to occur in other areas of your skin that LATISSE® frequently touches."

Um.

So...since I am super-uncoordinated and am likely to accidentally smear this stuff everywhere...I'm going to end up with HAIR on my eyelids, the tip of my nose and the middle of my cheeks?

And, it might not work at all. OR, it might only work on one of my eyes and not the other. And then my friends will all start calling me Half-a-Tammy-Faye-Bakker.

AND, even if it worked for both eyes and I didn't look all wonky and lopsided and hairy, the super-lash effects stop as soon as I stop using the product. So I'd have to keep using (and paying for) it forever.

I'm sort of feeling like my short, stubbly, non-prescription-enhanced eyelashes are A-OK.

I'm disappointed in you, Brooke Shields. I really thought you were better than this.

Then again, you were married to Andre Agassi when he was wearing that fake mullet, so clearly your judgment was already in question.

People I Want to Smack: Next up, Katy Perry

Her new song, "California Gurls" (...ugh) includes the lyric:

Sun-kissed skin
So hot, we'll melt your popsicle

It's so bad, it nearly made me drive off the road.

Katy Perry is not only annoying, she's dangerous.

My favorite new celebrity nickname

"Drinksy Lohan."

Hee.

(Seriously, though, she looks awful. Can she be declared unable to care for herself properly yet?)

And in non-celebrity non-news...

Appropriate follow-up questions to the above "news" "story" from People.com:

1. Uh, who is Colin Hanks?
2. Seriously, who is he?
3. Whoever he is, he looks emaciated. What's up with that? Can I give him a sandwich or something?
4. OK, so he's Tom Hanks' son. Has he done anything on his own? Is he a good actor? {Pause while everyone laughs hysterically.}
5. So, why is this news?

Exactly.

(Also kind of sad: Tom Hanks' first wife is now apparently officially known as...Tom Hanks' first wife. Because having your own identity is totally overrated.)

Things children should never sing (or talk) about

1. Their "baby" (presuming they don't, you know, actually HAVE an actual baby; kids are starting young these days, is all I'm saying)


2. Their "lover" (ew, ew, ew, ew, ewwwwwww)


3. Their "shortie" (and I'd like to go on record as saying that no one, of any age, should ever call anyone this) (that goes for "lover," too) (ew)

In other words, Justin Bieber needs to think about a new career. Or at least consider choosing different songs.

Ew.

Shouldn't he be on a playground right now, and/or playing Atari or whatever it is the kids are doing nowadays? {Rocking chair creaking as I rise to yell at the neighborhood kids to get off my lawn}

Et tu, Corey Haim?

Aw. Apparently Corey Haim died of an overdose (possibly accidental) this morning.

I was in luuuuurve with Corey (clearly the superior of the two Coreys) back in the '80s. Oddly, my love began after I saw Lucas, in which he plays a geeky little kid, and not the much, much cooler License to Drive (speaking of movies that don't hold up).

I know he had a history of substance abuse, but it's just so sad to keep seeing people die this way. Especially this young (he was just 38). RIP, cuter Corey.

I bet reporters were FROTHING to get to Corey Feldman for a response. Vultures.

Aw. Patrick Swayze.

So Patrick Swayze died this week.

His career was...weird. His roles were...diverse. Um, yeah. He dressed in drag alongsize Wesley Snipes (who makes arguably the ugliest woman in the known universe), kissed a woman from inside Whoopi Goldberg's body (ew), was a rough-edged badass in a leather jacket who...taught ballroom dancing, and played a character named Velvet Larry who -- well, does it matter? HIS NAME WAS VELVET LARRY.

But he really seemed like a great guy, and even though he had such a rough time there toward the end, it really seemed like he was trying his best to stay positive, keep going.

And I'm not going to lie: Whoever dreamed up the idea of a badass in a leather jacked who teaches ballroom dancing (however implausible it may be) is a genius who knows exactly what preteen girls (excuse me..."tween"; EW) will eat up with a spoon. I am decidedly average in this regard. I believe it goes without saying that I have, at many times during my adult life, said (with complete abandon), "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" (of course), "I carried a watermelon?" and, of course, the always popular, "You're WILD!!!" followed by uproarious laughter for no apparent reason.

(Brief sidebar: Who wrote the crappy dialogue for that movie? And how did they make it so memorable? "You're wild"? Could be the worst line of movie dialogue ever. And yet I will probably say it until the day I die and I scare the crap out of my Hospice nurse by waking out of my living coma and shouting, "You're WILD!" in her unsuspecting face.)

See what Patrick Swayze has done to me?

Aw. Patrick Swayze. You WERE wild. And I would carry a watermelon for you.