New Game - ALBUM COVER-A-LIKES!

THIS WEEK'S 'ALIKE' CONTENDERS:

CLIFF RICHARD ('Wired for Sound')

VS. OLIVIA NEWTON-JOHN ('Physical')

Uh-oh! Somebody call the Popstar Twin Police! Looks like Livvy was too busy getting 'Physical' to notice former 'Summer Holiday' crooner looking 'Wired for Sound' in this matchy-matchy getup of a sporty red shirt (and sporty haircut!) Waiter? I'd like to send back my originality!

Got an album cover you want to match to another one? Or a simple meth addiction? Or are sick of us complainig about it being too cold?

Write and tell us to put on a sweater!

Jordi & Biz

Princess Pony Party Amazing

Apple Sauce Factory, USA

-J.

It's Thursday - LET ME WRITE YOU A PLAY!

"NO ONE LIKES MY DAD RANDY NEWMAN"
(By J. Barnes)

(Randy Newman is hard at work at his baby grand with a pencil in his mouth. Sheet music litters his workspace. Enter Daughter Jordi Newman - a surgeon).



RANDY NEWMAN: Hi my little corn pop!

JORDI NEWMAN: Hi dad.

RANDY NEWMAN: Want to hear what I've been working on?

JORDI NEWMAN: No.

RANDY NEWMAN: It's about potatoes and shoes who are friends!

JORDI NEWMAN: No.

RANDY NEWMAN: Hit it, me!

(Randy Newman begins a "playful" piano rag the equivalent of an ice-cream headache and sings):

"You're a shoe and I'm a potato.
Together we are friends.
We go down the road / Where you go, I go.
Because we're such good friends".

JORDI NEWMAN: (interrupting) Dad!

RANDY NEWMAN: What?

JORDI NEWMAN: Just quit it! No one likes you!

RANDY NEWMAN: What?

JORDI NEWMAN: I have surgery to do. (she leaves).

RANDY NEWMAN: Ok.

(Randy Newman gets back to work, accepting his fate as being the man who writes songs about best friends, yet has none himself. Other than men who look exactly like him - and Jimmy Buffet).

THEEEE END.

-J.

(JORDI HAS SENT YOU AN E-VITE!) I'M KEEPING MY ALIEN DEVIL GHOST BABY!

Host: Jordana Barnes
When: Tuesday, June 6, 2525 6:00pm

"SUPRISE!!!"

That's how I felt when I was woken up one night by an alien devil ghost who promptly dragged me into his spaceship and made me his sex slave for a week (but really, it was more like a year Earth time.) But I'm back...and pregnant (?!) with who they say is a very IMPORTANT alien devil ghost baby. One who is supposedly powerful enough to decide our fates one day. A PROPHET alien devil ghost baby! And right now he's "predicting" that I'll be throwing up again in about five minutes!

When I first got pregnant, I wasn't that excited. In fact, I was terrified beyond reality and had night terrors and phantasms that would make me cut myself in my sleep and I wanted to do something about it. But then the crew from the ZXTK423 assured me that my alien devil ghost baby would try to eat it's way out of my body if it even SENSED any thoughts of termination on my behalf. I guess even though my alien devil ghost baby is the size of a peanut, it's mind is psychic, intelligent, extremely powerful and 1000% Pure Evil. He knows my every thought and action and can control me from my own womb.

The crew, (who will most likely take my alien devil ghost baby the second it's born), also made it known that if I try any "funny business" - I will be wearing a necklace made out of my own teeth! They said that they would make sure of it.....isn't that something? They should know better than to threaten a hormonal pregnant lady, huh? HA-HA! Pass the ice cream girlfriends!(Am I right?!)

A summer punch and ribs are on the menu so bring your appetites! We will also be playing charades and Boggle (especially if it rains.)

I hope you (and I!) can make it.

Love, Jordi.
PS - I will be needing some more name suggestions. I don't know...sometimes he feels like a Philip and other days he's a Xxzaphoyd-GarrrtokZHOULIAN-GAHHHHRRR!! It really could be a coin toss at this point. I'm also mad about Quentin!

(inspired by a true retarded e-vite baby shower image suggestion)

Prince Made Us Have Sex

Do you have the new Prince album yet?

Go get it, I'll wait.

Pretty amazing, isn't it?

GodDAMN, he is sexy.

Prince is magic.


It took me years to 'get' Prince. Years. I always dismissed him with a wave, as if swatting away a bee, saying to those who would ask for my opinion of the guy: "Prince? He's a gnat...why do you like him? Where is your head? (with hand signals) R U deaf? He glistens!" And then I'd go back to listening to my 'awesome' music: mostly Heino - the BEST/ WORST funny thing to come out of Germany, or another 'special' nickel garage sale find. It wasn't Prince, anyway.

Well - where was my head? Clearly, I should've been listening to Prince since Day One.

My husband Ted has been listening to Prince since Day One. He has always 'gotten' Prince.
For years, he's been playing me all his favorites and all his non-favorites (with the excitement of Prince himself, playing his genius stuff for a first time listener). A lot of Ted's stories about Younger Ted are scored with an AllPrince-Allthetime soundtrack (with the exception of a particularly heart-wrenching break-up; that is scored with the supple sounds of Chicago's Greatest Hits', and without a single shred of irony. It's pretty adorable, actually). Still, hours of Prince 101 was lost and wasted on me - a Who fan. I had suggested watching 'Quadrophenia' many times (you can lead a Prince fan to The Who, but you can't make him...never mind). Anyway, I just never got it.

Ted loves Prince. He loves Prince so much that he forgives His Royal Badness for "Under the Cherry Moon", for that poo-on-tape "The Rainbow Children" and for giving up playing "Darling Nikki" at his concerts because of some slight re-wiring in his spiritual beliefs. Ted would leave me for Prince, and I would probably send him away with excited good luck, but I'd make him write me about their adventures:
("Dear Jordi - Sorry it's been a while, but Prince had me taste-test all the furniture in his new Ice Cream Living Room, and it took a while since there are over 200,000 flavors. But we're having a blast! Did U get the robe I sent? I'm still the tallest 1 here! Love 2 U!, Ted").

About a year and a half ago, Ted's brother Joe bought us tickets to see Prince at the Staples Centre in L.A. as an engagement gift. We had the very, extremely, most-possible, last, absolute last row...and it was one of the best experiences I've ever had in my life. It was amazing. And Prince was fuck-off gigantic! Not video-screen gigantic, but you could feel his presence.

The Force is with Prince.

Several times it went through my head: "Ted, you have GOT to leave me for that man!" and then: "I have GOT to leave Ted for that man!". Prince was in the round - so he played to every conceivable space available, and he played for something like three hours. Four hours? No one counted minutes or realised how long he'd been seducing us until we got to a clock outside. The many costume changes didn't tip us off that we might be there overnight - we were under The Spell. Prince is the hardest working man, period.

One of the highlights was watching Ted watch Prince. (Alright - I know it sounds like: "Ted's gay and I'm the beard", but that's not the case). I loved watching my fanboy watch his musical hero; the musician equivalent of the real Superman flying around in circles, or the real Spider-Man slinging and swinging from webs. The real Han Solo pilot the Millennium Falcon right before Ted's eyes. He knew every word to every song and he didn't even mind the 'jamming' (I think Ted hates watching people jam almost as much as moving. And he really hates moving). That was just inevitable though. When you get a stable of talent like the ones who backed up Prince, a jam is going to happen. (I'm not a jam fan myself. I have 'escaped' many jams after a tambourine was shoved into my unwilling hands. The secret is to make it look like you're having the time of your life, then pass off the tambourine to another sucker and leave quietly).

So...thanks to Ted and his brother Joe, I got to see Prince in a life changing show and fall in complete passionate love. I've been listening ever since.

Last night, Ted brought home the latest: Prince's '3121', and it's fucking fantastic. You've probably heard or read by now that it's like his 'old stuff' (and since he's done so much stuff, the 'old' here refers to the 'Delirious' Nasty Prince. The one who likes to fuck. Welcome back from the pulpit, Your Highness - now do me). So we're listening.....and all of a sudden the clothes come off and we're in a situation which can only be described as 'urgent'. It happened so quickly that I can't remember whose idea it was, and I didn't know that it was going to happen.

But what I do know, is that I really 'get' Prince now.

-Jord.

Ask Ronnie James DIO.

WRITING IMPLEMENT MYSTIC / ROCK AND ROLL WIZARD

Got something to write down but nothing to write with?

Ask me, Rainbow Children of Night Fancy!

Q: Hi Ronnie. I'm a long-time enthusiast of the basic Number Two pencil. I don't care for what the new mechanical pencils have to offer, or for the theatrics of those giant pencils you can win at fairs, but I've been looking to make the switch from lead to ink to "get with" the times. Which writing tool would make for a smooth transition? (Both on the page and for my sanity, as I sure do love pencils!)

Thanks,

Joe.

PS - My 6 year-old niece worked out 'Holy Diver' on the piano - just the first bit, but it's pretty good. She's also a member of your Krayon Klub!

A: Hello Rogue and Wayfaring Scoundrel,

When I woke at dawn's first light and consulted The Runes, they spoke of letting go of the past. I have since consulted The Elders in this matter....they wanted me to let you know that even though you feel like you are being tricked in this juncture of your life, I can assure you with complete honesty that you are not.

The Runes want me to point you toward the new Pentel Retractable EnerGel, yet The Elders wish for you to choose the calssic Pilot Precise P-700. Both of these tools have the velveteen feel of lead, are easy on the grip and dance across the page as if taken over by a lover's trance on gossamer wings, flying, flying and laughing at the demon's kiss, riding the Tiger until the soaring winged maiden takes you into her silver embrace; her spindley fingers tracing your future in the sands of time, while the Mastedon cries for elves' wishes past.

Of these tools there are two and the choice is of yours, kindred bretheren. For this Bard has faith in your path.

That's really great about your niece.

R.J.D

-Jord.

"Xyggka! Dinner!"

I've decided (after it just occurring to me three minutes ago), to name my firstborn after the word verifications in the 'Post A Comment' section.

If I had four kids to name today, they would be (besides all being of Scandinavian heritage apparently):

Sfloeen - A lute playing child of wonder an innocence. Her name almost sounds like: 'S'flowing'. Maybe she's...sssss'S'flowing' over to the next meadow to pick her mother Edelweiss?

Rfjjq - A military child. Loves Rottweilers. Curt. No details. Likes things in an orderly fashion. Will leave home and never speak to me again. We call him "Riff". He hates not being an only child. Hates his name. He should be so lucky I didn't name him A-HA or "Take On Me".

Uoevc - A sensitive child. He is the John Boy of the family. So smart. Loves those books. Always leaves a little extra porridge for the barn elf at Christmas...because he believes!

Vhkbs! - This one loves to tumble! He has mischievious hooves and joined a circus! When Vhkbs! comes to visit, all the children laugh gaily and chase hoops down a hill with sticks!

(Don't tell Sfloeen, Rfjjq and Uoevc that Vhkbs! is my favorite! Shhhhh!)

-Jord.

Jack Johnson = Giant Goon Head

This is Jack Johnson. He is a giant goon head.

I'm sure he's a very nice person, and I'm sure I'm a wuss for starting my sentence with "I'm sure he's a very nice person". But why does he grate my every last nerve?

I mean - he grew up on the North Shore of Oahu and makes surf movies...one of the many kinds of lives I'd want for myself, but I just can't help thinking about his unconfrontational music being 'Frat Lite'. I can't help but think of the kinds of people I'd rather not hang out with, LOVING this music. Absolutely LOVING it. And I get depressed as hell when I think about it. These are the Norah Jones people.

Here's what I picture when I hear Jack Johnson: A woman named Keersten in line at Starbucks waiting for her half-non-fat-decaf-skim-fat-jack-sprat latte. Her flat ironed hair stayed sleek & flippy in the two seconds she leaped from the car into the Starbucks (which she's totally happy about) and she's promised her husband Kyle that she'll only be a second while he waits in a loading zone out in the Ford Explorer.

Her latte is done and her name is called and she's just about to make the frizz defying leap back into the SUV...but then Jack Johnson comes on. Ohmigod! What is she to do? She PROMISED Kyle that she'd only be a second, but now Jack Johnson in on. Well, he's just going to have to wait. And he does. But when she gets back in the car, he totally understands. And he says: "Maybe we'll get lucky and hear him in Pottery Barn too!"

And then I pop up in the backseat with a knife and say: "Maybe you won't".

HA! HA!

I don't like you Jack Johnson. And I will fight your giant goony mellow frat head.
-Jord

Furlobster

Wow!

It looks sort of like a tick with long hairy legs.

Like a furlobster.

My excitement for this new creature is only overshadowed by my jaded mind and the knowledge that within the year, "furlobster" will become just another name for a woman's vagina.

Soon, up and down the beaches where this amazing and beautiful creature lives just below the waves, washed up pot heads will sell shirts that say "Let me discover your furlobster" or "Furlobsters are better when they are wet" to drunken frat boys who aren't quite sure what the shirts mean but think the idea of "fur" is hilarious.

Enjoy this picture of me...its pretty self explanatory.

Dear Diary Drinking Game

Hi guys! Sorry I have been away. I have been lazy...what is your excuse?

So as many of you know, I have been posting my diary from whne I was 16 on Princess Pony, but you may not know that I have been reading from it weekly at a stand up show hosted by my good friend Livia Scott. It has actually turned out to be pretty fun and people seem to enjoy my pain...so much so that it has turned into a drinking game.

Apparently I was a bit repetitive in my journal.

So I thought you might like to see the current drinking game flyer. It will be made MUCH better later.

Rules:

You must take a drink whenever...

•I say “Oh Well!” (additional game rule…you must yell out “Oh Well, before you drink.)
•I make a list.
•I show signs of low self esteem
•Some one says “These are not the droids your looking for.”
•I “wish” for anything
•I make an attempt at being deep.
•I rapidly change the subject for no reason.
•If I say “GRUB” you must take 3 drinks and say “I would grub with you Biz!”