you spin me right round

stole a few minutes before my 3:30 to whet your appetite for PHC ... shmozzles.

Jeffrey Wells hearts The Defamer. obvs, who doesn't? for the record, I heart both the mostest.

this is pretty much worst. on the other hand, this is pretty much best. are you allowed to name something as your all-time favourite movie before you've even seen it? Linklater Delpy Hawke. best trio since Run TMC! for REALS.

early Beckinsale snaps reveal straight-up uggs anti-buzz (at rizz). wait, what's this? a movie star gets plastic surgery to enhance her looks? GET THE EFF OUT! developing...

while your Uncle Grambo is fairly convinced that "Pirates Of The Carribean 2" will pretty much be a back alley Bruckheimer abortion, casting Keith Richards as Capt. Jack Sparrow's father could go a long way towards changing my mind. [via Movie City News]

The Thigh Master chips in what is EASILY the funniest Coachella recap to date: Coachella, Hellz Yealla, So Much To Tella, Lets Spread On The Nutella - Part II.

here's a few things that I've read in today's local fishwraps that are doing a lot to convince me that moving out of The D™ might be a smart move. some ephing tourist names "Not Enough" by Our Lady Peace as the best driving song of all-time and some douchenozzle claiming to represent the Movement Festival sounds off that "From Prague to Paris, people can start booking their tickets (for this year's Festival)" ... regarding the latter, I'm considering boycotting this year's festival solely on the grounds that it's so poorly organized that it makes the Athens Olympics look like the 1991 Rochester Adams Homecoming Parade (an event that ran like effing clockwork thanks to my organizational skillz). bozzlebovs. [both stories via Motor City Rocks]

considering I've been in love with her since "Back To Beach", I think it's about time Esquire or GQ or SOMEBODY honors the hottness that is Lori Laughlin. closing in on 40 and still hott as balls. shmears.

"Van Helsing" ... least anticipated blockbuster evs? some say this weekend's Snoop "SNL" has more buzz. i predict an opening in the $35-38mm neighborhood. i think that the tracking on this bitch is a little on the high side.

mmmmBEST buzz over on MCN!

exit music for a post

yeah, today has been even crazier than El Pollo Loco. as Damore or Randal would say, "No time for love, Dr. Jones!" but I did have this thought ... how come I'm not more excited for this weekend's debut of "New York Minute"? and is it just me or has this topic been strangely devoid of buzz all over The Blogosphere™? i mean, come on, not even UltraOlsen is geeched ... she attended a sneak the other night and hasn't said one word about it! could Mary-Kate and Ashley's reign be coming to a close? and is your Uncle Grambo the only one who would rather pay the $8.50 to see a movie starring former doubles partners Martina Hingis and Anna Pornikova? sweet, sweet Swiss Miss ... how I miss your elegantly crisp groundstrokes, your fiery temper and the way you'd dismissively bat your eyes when your crazy mother would yell at you. even in retirement (eff you, Sergio Tacchini!), you are the bee's knees.

snl season 29 ... REVEALED!

this one's too snoozeworthy to even discuss. i'll leave it to Nummer and H-Bomb ...

put a fork in 'em

after wearing out their welcome approximately seven years ago, the blockbuster sitcom "Friends" mercifully concludes its rampant run of mediocrity this evening. for reals, if anyone can successfully argue that the show was worthwhile to watch beyond Season 4 (when Ross almost got married to Helen Baxendale), I will gladly buy them drizzies til their heart's content. while I've never been a full-on hater of the show, I haven't purposefully sat down to catch "Friends" since "The One After Ross Says Rachel", which was the season 5 opener. i kind of figured the show had run its course at that point, and it kind of looked like I'm right.

while NBC has valiantly attempted to make tonight's series finale a "must-see" event (and no doubt it will draw HUGE ratings), it feels to your Uncle Grambo that the ship has already left the harbor on this one. i judge that based upon the watercooler talk around my humble Midwestern office; that is to say, NO ONE has mentioned being excited or sad that "Friends" is coming to an end this evening. even stranger, most of the press I've read (this Slate piece is a great example) has focused on how a marginally funny show got to be such an enormous commercial success. so yes, I'll be parked on my couch tonight with scotch in hand to watch the show come to an end, but I can't say that I feel particularily happy or sad about it, especially when the show will live on in syndication until our children's children leave this mortal coil. and like The Beav and The Brady Bunch before them, the "Friends" cast will continue to live on at 5 and 11 as blissfully unaware twenty/thirtysomethings for the rest of eternity.

i've had a tough time focusing on Moz's recent NYC shows at the Apollo, largely cuz I'm still emotionally and physically hung over from my weekend in the desert. for an interesting "he said / she said" take on the show, I suggest checking out Connie NYC's and Lindsay's reviews of Monday night's show. while Connie was sufficiently awed by the perf, Miss Lindsay Lindsayism came away less than blown away by the whole evening. first Moz haterade evs? that's two points for honesty, yo.

who knew? Zulkey hearts Kanye!

who are the ad wizards who decided it was a killer idea to dress Sandra Bullock up like the Marlboro Man in drag? more importantly, who are the ad wizards who think that there's actually an audience for "Miss Congeniality 2"? Bullock ... some say she has the most plain jane features of a supposed sex symbol since Helen Hunt. some also say least important sequel since "The Whole Ten Yards" (which, btw, effectively killed Matt Perry's film career).

but in news that is guaranteed to turn a nation into a carnivorous bunch of Diet Cokeheads, FCB has shot a new Diet Coke ad featuring Kate Beckinsale in a bikini. according to an agency spokesperson, "the commercials aim to conjure up the sensations of 'tingle' and 'bounce'" ... HI-YO! mission accomplished!

some say biggest blog feud since Uncle Grambo v. Kegzies (which was a publicity stunt, but STILL). in case you missed it, 1115.org and Coolfer Glenn are feuding about stuff like iTunes and MAPs. listen kids, they don't love you like I love you. can't we all just get along?

bell bovs devoe: coachella 2004 (part I)

what can your Uncle Grambo possibly say about a weekend that begins with drug-sniffing dogs and ends with a five-hour flight sitting next to a senile old man convinced he's Frankie Valli? apparently, a lot. buzz. howevs, in the interest of time, i'll gracefully edit out both of those stories (and countless others) in order to bring you the cold-filtered pure hottness that occured out on the Left Coast last week. snatch.

after Damore and I touched down @ LAX last Thursday and picked up our convertible 'Stang from Budget Rent-A-Durst, we made our way through the hellacious traffic on the PCH for some prime sight-seeing. and by "sight-seeing", I really mean "looking for chicks in bikinis" ... you see, back where I come from, unless you represent with a boat or dare to swim in the e coli infested public beaches, bikinis are something that you only see in magazines. fo REALS. unfortch for us, all we saw were shirtless dudes pumping iron at Muscle Beach. no buzz.

still, the weather (probably 75 and sunny) was enough to keep us smiling. we began to make our way down Sunset Blvd to the Hollywood & Highland to meet up for sake and sushi with our ole partner-in-crime Jessica Blueprint and our newest bestest friend evs, the incredibly saucy Kerry So Says I. we skipped right past the formalities and went STRAIGHT to drinking, as we liberally pounded sake martinis and devoured sushi in preparation for seeing Snow Patrol perform on "The Jimmy Kimmel Show" right across the street @ the El Capitan. bovs.

after sufficient quantities of booze were consumed, our quartet of hottness rolled across the strizz and, thanks to the good graces of Kerry, were quickly granted back-door admittance (back door friends are best, obvs) to the Green Room. as expected, we made our way directly to the bar and proceeded to continue pounding free (!!!) drizz after drizz in preparation for the brief Snow Patrol set. after a few moments, we were herded to a small stage upstairs where Kimmel himself introduced my new favourite band of all-teezy. the lads from Glasgow performed an inspired three-song set on their national television debut, consisting of "Spitting Games", "Chocolate" and "Run" (I'm still not sure which one actually ran on air). the hotties made their presence known in-between songs, screaming out to the band "WHAT ARE YOU DOING AFTER THE SHOW?", which Gary LightBestEver acknowledged with a sly smile. post-perf, we made our way back down to the Green Room for more drizzies, and what do you know, our kru ended up meeting the band! after Damore successfully goaded Lightbody into insulting him ("Fuck off, your website's shite!"), we left the gals to their respective destinies. the rest, they say, is history.

from there, we made our way out to Manhattan Beach to meet up with Jimmy "Butch" Bencik, one of my oldest and closest friends. again, formalities were skipped and we headed down the strizz for some major pounding at Scary Ho's. suffice to say, multiple Buds were pounded, shots were downed, girls were ogled, and C Friggs arrived. wait, what's that? C FUCKING FRIGGS showed up out of nowhere (on a top-secret and exxxtra shady delivery assignment for his scary multinational conglomerate) to pound beers and get crazy with our kru ... mmmmBEST! we decided to make our way home around 2am, but not before some crazy Asian hottie tried to seduce Damore at a dodgy Mexican joint down the street ... being the rico suave ladies man that he is, Damore rightfully determined she was only after his burrito and gave her the Heisman. bovs.

waking up smelling of quesadillas and japanese rice wine, Damore and myself met up with my good buddy Curley for an AMAZING breakfast @ Doughboys. for reals, if you are ever in Los Angeles, i HIGHLY recommend this venue. get the SOS. obvs. we wandered around the city in search of Dushku star maps and celebs, only to find ourselves IN THE MIDDLE OF A TAPING OF "THE RYAN SEACREST SHOW"! some say durst. howevs, a chance encounter with Rambo outside of the Wax Museum and a sighting of a billboard promoting "Strays" ("Strays" ... always talked about) made the venture into Hollyweird worthwhizz. but time was not on our side and we hadn't had a drink all day, so Damizz and your Uncle popped our `Stangs top and began the easterly drive out to Palm Spreezy. note to self: despite the fact that you have a dark complexion and are driving in a convertible, ALWAYS remember to apply sunscreen.

we arrived in The Spreezy ready to chill and pound drinks (not necessarily in that order). after checking into the five-star Palm Springs Ramada Resort, we made a brief sojourn across the strizz to Ralph's to load up on sunscreen, Coors and Captain's (again, not necessarily in that order). as we awaited the arrival of Dirty and Peabs, our triumvirate of best everness made our way poolside to (once again) scope for hotties. as expected, at least one pair of fake tatts were revealed and were promptly bovs'd all over. it was all relatively chill until the Vegas Boys arrived ...

... and then carnage ensued. you see, my other newest bestest friend Jeannie managed to score us an invite to the Filter Party at BANANAZ, probably the best bar of all-time (in that they served us free drizzies all nizz long). we entered the pre-Coachella party sufficiently drizzed and ready to bovs all over anyone's tees who got in our way. first in line? Howie Day. fuckin' douchebag, why don't you go lock another teenager up in your bus and steal her celly, you Super Wave Market Marisimo! we brushed past his exquisitely durst `do and went right to the bar, but not before spotting Audrey and Jason ProductshopNYC among the revellers. so shmears.

as you can see from the pic at left, BANANAZ quickly became bananas as hoardes of partygoers stormed the facility and danced to the old-school indie / new wave tunes being spun by Jimmy Tamborello. we met up with the girls (including the mega-hottie Stacy) and preceeded to get all effed. instead of relaying the convos, i'm going to attempt to let the pictures tell the story ... with one lone exception.

of the hundreds (millions?) of people partying at BANANAZ that night, i absoguaraneffintee you that NO ONE partied harder than Damore. perhaps inspired by my tale of Ultragrrrl pouring a beer over her head at Misshapes the weekend before, Damore danced harder than Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever" and managed to pour AT LEAST THREE beers over his head during the course of the night! photos tell at least a dozen words, so here goes...

needless to say, we got in a LOT of trouble that night, including some post-party shenanigans at the hotel that I'm more comfortable NOT detailing. however, I would be a Grinch if I didn't give you some hints. mix the following ingredients IN YOUR MIND and you'll likely end up in the neighborhood: Rold's Gold Pretzel Rods, Neutrogena 45 SPF Sunscreen, horse tranqs, Do Not Disturb signs, palm tree fronds, towels, lack of towels, Absinthe, laptops, Astroglide and Sharpies. or you can just read Peabs and be done with it. either way, we ended up having a monumentally best ever evening and going to be around 5:30am PST. trust you me, that would not bode well for the first day of the Coachella Festival...

game on!

if there's one constant that holds Tru in The Blogosphere™, it's that you gotsta protect your turf. with that in mind, it's important to note that the gr8 city of Detroit and the durst st8 of New Jersey have had some epic battles over the years. unfortch for my hometown, we've come out mostly on the losing end of these battles (such as the `95 Stanley Cup and the `03 Eastern Conference Finals). but that's all gonna change this year in the Eastern Conference semis, and your Uncle Grambo is ready to put his money where his mouth is.

yesterdizz, I was contacted NOT by the New Jersey Catchdubs (runnin' scared, natch), but instead by the fearsome warriors behind Gothamist (namely Jen and Tien). we decided to make a friendly wager on the series, the details of which can be read on Gothamist. and by "friendly", i really mean "the `Stons are gonna lay a Motor City pistolwhippin' on The Nets Nots and bovs all over their tees" ... DUH! fear the 'Fro, yo! the next game in the series is on Friday night, GO PISTONS¹!!!

i used her, she used me, neither one cared

we were gettin' our share, yo. workin' on the Night Moves, tryin' to lose those awkward teenage blues. bovs. thanks to the efforts of Josh Schwartz, executive producer of "The O.C.", a whole new generation of kids are being exposed to the musical genius of Bob Seger. The Grizz talks to Schwartz about this very subject in today's Detroit News, and Schwartz reveals that "Night Moves" was the most expensive song that the freshman hit show has licensed to date.

while your Uncle Grambo continues to strive towards balancing brevity and hilarity in my personal Coachella recap (which will likely end up being neither), thankfully others have represented with the hottness. in the first of three parts (trilogy stizz!), Peabs details the debauchery that took place when he and Dirty visited Vegas, baby, Vegas. and while you're at it, a fully comprehensive yet exquisitely brief recap (an extremely challenging task to execute, I must say) is available from the delightful, delish and delovely Kerry So Says I. bananaz, indeed!

more like Kate Beckin-BESTEVER!!! oh yeah, bite that lower lip all seductively like that, baby. no no, do it baby, DO IT. nuh nuh, DOOO IT! yeah yeah yeah, like that! ah criminy, bovs on those effing tees! so British! so hott! so saucy! some say most gorgeous woman evs...

if you missed "RW:SD" last night, you missed one of the most classic episodes ever. reminiscent of when the "RW: Hawaii" cast went to India and the evil gay Harvard-educated mastermind pitted Amaya and Colin against each other, Frankie Real World pitted Drunk Ass Robin against Cameran in a fight that resulted in one of the more epic fake cryfests in "RW" history (btw, HEAVY EMPHASIS on the fake, cuz Robin is the wurst fake crier evs ... she must've learned early on in life that crying would get her what she wants). but I digress ... then, later in the ep, Frankie RW antagonized My Boy Randy to the point that he said (and I paraphrase) "Don't call me an alcoholic or I'm gonna cry!" uh, any deep seeded doubts as to whether you can stay sobes there Rand-O? you bet yo ass there are! SO BEST!

all y'all playaz out there who keep bitching that The Pistons drafted Darko over Mello are best to shut yer yap traps, as my boy Tayshaun continues his ascent towards star status. Rob "Buddy Ball, I'd Settle For Baseball" Parker of The Detroit News agrees.

worst news of the new millenium, bovs. Fred Durst deflects Limp Bizkit breakup rumours. wait wait wait, check that a second. THIS is the worst news of the millenium! DURST HAS A BLOG! so effing beck. the worst part about Durst's blog is that IT FEATURES KIDDIE PORN! dude, who wants to see your 2-year old's D™ revealed on multiple occasions? durst is durst, snatch. [courtesy of The Grizz and GK Vibe]

"can't believe that you caught me red-handed, sleepin' with the girl next door. picture this, we were both butt naked bangin' on the bathroom floor" ... maybe Brit Brit should consider covering Shaggy on the European leg of The Onyx Whore-Tel tour after getting randy with her WTBF, bathroom stizz. snatch.

"Bubba Ho-Tep 2: Electric Boogaloo"??? chances look obvs.

while we're on the topic of upcoming films, your Uncle Grambo is anxiously awaiting the arrival of "A Scanner Darkly", Richard Linklater's adaptation of the cult novel written by Philip K. Cock Penis D™ Dick. the film tells the story of a futuristic society in which an undercover narcotics agent becomes hooked on some crazy drugs, "Rush" stizz. only this book will make "Rush" look like "Babe: Pig In The City" will all kindsa sci-fi hottness, trust me on this one. it stars Keanu Reeves, Robert Downey Jr., Woody Harrelson and Winona Rizz and will reportedly be shot in a method similar to "Waking Life" ... bovs.

and in a film that will surely please The Thigh Master, New Line will be releasing "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" on July 30th. apparently journos across the country received a six-pack of microwavable White Castle cheeseburgers yesterday as a promotional tool ... too bad they weren't them Jalapeno Cheeseburgers. mmmmmmm!

and finally, HUGE ups to The Freep for their story this morning on the mysterious, execution style murder of a prominent Detroit stripper last year that continues to remain unsolved. this story has been buried for well over a year and is finally getting some local prominence after a Detroit City Po-Po got demoted and transferred out of the homicide division for getting too close to the murder. you see, the 27-year old stripper who went by the name of Strawberry was allegedly one of the strippers who performed for Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and the rest of his posse @ the infamous (and also alleged) Manoogian Mansion party in fall 2002. after dropping off her BF one night last April around 3:40am, she was capped SEVEN TIMES IN THE HEAD, drive-by stizz, and left for dead. dude, how totally "L.A. Confidential" is THAT? for reals, where's Lt. Ed Exley when you need him? as they say in the bizz, DEVELOPING...

i leave you for now with this photo of Ben Gibbard from his perf @ Coach this wknd ... it's dedicated to his secret GF, The Real Janelle. shmears!

i'll take "things i never thought i'd read on whatevs.org" for $1000, alex

COURTNEY HOLE, it's time to put your tees away! C. Lo revealed all there is to reveal at some random concert in Hot-Lanta this weekend. while your Uncle is normally incredibly supportive of top popping (such as the cute young Asian mama during The Lips set on Sunday night), now those nips serve no other function than reminding me of Kofi Assare. and yeah, Court-O, lay off the coke (final item). at the rate you're hoovering up the blizz, there'll be no more trips to Mammoth for Adam Brody ... snatch!

oh my gawd, this is probably the worst thing I've ever seen since that back alley abortion of a performance put on by Beck this weekend @ Coachella. sweet Mary mother of Yahweh, Madge hearts The Black Eyed Peas!!! what's next, Damore being photographed outside Plaka's with a Franz Ferdinand cd? er, not so likely. but STILL, what is my girl doing listening to Fergie for inspirado? makes my head hurt just thinking about it.

any article that name drops Handsome Dick Manitoba is a-okay with me. i mean, fuggedaboutit, Saturday nights with Adam Roth back in the late 90s at Manitoba's? most say best evs, especially ConnieNYC.

got me a blog, i want you to know. slicin' up starlets, i want you to know. a blogger so groovy, oh ho ho ho. wanna grow ... up to be ... to be a DEFAMER! the latest volley from the Nick Denton empire has launched and Hell-Ay will never be the same. howevs, one mistake was made by The Englishman In New York ... he didn't hire Foxy Jazz to helm the site (if only for a few months b4 she moves off to NYC). that's no offense to the "anonymous" person who's running the site, i'm sure they'll do great work. but if you've been reading The Blueprint of late, you KNOW that my girl Jazzercise has been on fire. some say the next Spiers!

Slate just now figures out that teen starlets rule the school. duh! where the eff you been, dollface? shatts on your boombies. [buzz courtesy of an email from Morland]

while my offish review of Coachies won't be available until later tonight / early 2morrow, there are a wide variety of reviews hitting the web right about nizz. if you're into the whole journalism thing (effin square!), you should check out NME (EXCITED!!!), MTV News (comprehensive), The Hollywood Reporter (mostly sorta okay ... ish) and The NY Times (strangely surly). if you want some hott scoop though, check out The Blueprint's stellastalking of "The O.C." cast and Damore's recap of the Top 10 Things That Sucked About Coachella. for instance, the massive pile of trash pictured below (in retrospect, it bears a striking resemblance to "Fraggle Rock's" Almighty Trash Heap). or how about Wayne Coyne singing happy birthday to Beck? even the New York Post agrees that this blows! until later, my fine feathered friends...

where's your bovs at?

whut whut. this wknd out in Hell-Ay and the Coachella Festival was insanely best evs. big ups to everyone who made it such an incredible time, for reals. i'll be using this space to detail ALL of the hottness that was experienced over the wknd, but not for another few hours. my body's heck-a-slammin' to finish a PPT presentation in time for a 10:30 meeting with the Senior Veeps up in this piece. so, check ya later this afternoon (or maybs this eve, we shall see).

until then, I leave you with this amazing Detroit News photo (credit: David Guralnick) from The Red Wings season-ending loss in OT last night. TOTALLY beck. way to go Red Wursts, I stayed up until almost 1am despite being all jet-lagged only to see you mutts get shut-out two games in a row? no fucking buzz ... so beck.

I hate work, you hate work, all god's chillin's hate work

An excellent excuse to use this picture again!

Rick Rubin is still cooler than you, even though this article erroneously blames him for rap-rock. Arguably, he helped the RHCP abandon that formula and become the rock songsmiths they now are and sure he did those System of Down jawns, but they're not nearly as korny as durst Durst, but I digrizz.

The Darkness is making a quick return to North America for more concert dates... I don't see any hotness for the D howevs.

Darkness booking. No buzz.

Uber no buzz.

Bovs

Uber bovs.

The Drew Carey Show still on and cancelled at the same time... who knew? Sorry, that was suppose to read, who cares.