may 30, 2003

the Garage, Hollywood, CA

and the winner (for this round) is eve 6

barely.

Tsar (pictured) will combat the hype that is Eve 6 tonight!

Who is Eve 6?

This is Eve 6:

Rocker’s Reputed Naked Romp

Thu May 29, 6:40 PM ET

By Joal Ryan

eonline.com

A rock star’s life on the road is one big to-do list: Bring guitar, leave girlfriend at home, wear pants.

Wear pants.

Can Max Collins be expected to remember everything?

Pittsburgh-area police apparently think so.

Officers there arrested the lead singer of Los Angeles-based rock outfit Eve 6 early Tuesday after receiving a complaint from a local hotel of “a male…in the lobby without his pants on,” Lt. Michael Hoover of the Moon Township, Pennsylvania, Police Department said.

The hotel was the Crowne Plaza in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, located just outside the Pittsburgh International Airport. The pantsless male was Max Collins, at least according to “a number of witnesses.”

“Was I naked? Or does everyone else just have clothes on?,” Collins asked, tongue presumably in cheek, in a statement released Thursday.

To be sure, it was clothed people who ratted out the rocker. They told police Collins was parading around the lobby, sans pants, and riding the elevator, sans pants.

Even cops concede, however, that rocker was not entirely naked.

“He did have shaving cream on his genitalia,” Hoover said Thursday.

Still, there is a reason why humans wear Dockers, and not thick, foamy lathers, in polite company.

Despite Collins alleged efforts to cover up with shaving cream, it was “clearly evident,” as Hoover put it, that beneath the Barbasol lay the frontman’s instrument.

It was not known if Barbasol was Collins’ brand of choice. We just hope to God it wasn’t one of those clear gel formulas.

Whatever his favorite label, Collins apparently didn’t pack enough. According to reports, shortly before police were called, Collins appeared at the front desk (sans pants–natch) and asked if he could trouble the hotel for some shaving cream (double natch). An employee then escorted the unclad rocker back to the elevator, and implored the young man to clad himself. Collins allegedly didn’t heed the advice, with the near-naked lobby parading and elevator riding commencing.

By the time police arrived on scene, the show was over. Collins was found in his room, still sans pants, Hoover said.

Police did ask Collins exactly why he was sans pants, but “he had no reason for his behavior,” Hoover said.

Was it maybe, well, hot in Pittsburgh that night?

“No,” Hoover said.

(Just trying to be helpful.)

On Thursday, Collins blamed boredom.

He and bandmates were in Pittsburgh for X-Fest, an alternative rock bash held Memorial Day at Post-Gazette Pavilion. Eve 6 played during the day, with Collins’ arrest occurring after midnight, several hours later.

“We were bored and in the middle of nowhere,” Collins said in the statement. “This is what happens when you play an afternoon show and are stuck in a hotel in Moon Township, PA.”

Collins was booked on suspicion of indecent exposure, Hoover said. MTV.com reported Collins’ brief stint behind bars ended Tuesday when he posted bail at the Allegheny County Jail. A preliminary hearing is scheduled for Tuesday.

RCA Records spokeswoman Maggie Wang said it wasn’t believed Collins’ close shave in Pittsburgh would sabotage Eve 6’s summer plans, which include a club tour starting in mid-June, and the release of the band’s third album, It’s All in Your Head, due out July 22.

“We view it as a minor incident,” Wang said of the arrest.

Eve 6, which charted in 2000 with the hit “Here’s to the Night,” is scheduled to shoot a music video next month in Los Angeles. The band’s first single from the new album: “Think Twice.”

Always good advice when about to parade around in a hotel lobby, sans pants.

tsar’s homepage

i was drunk, i didn’t know how she got there. if there was a web cam in my house maybe you people could see that lots of times things just happen to me. i have very little control over the circumstances.

life is fuzzy. things fade in and out. my legitimate kids will never have to worry about tv reception, but it’s like that sometimes. flashes like a strobe light.

bowling. riding. drinking. smoking. church members. bicycles. back door. phone ringing. groceries still on the floor. knock at the door. phone ringing. ice cream. soda. phone still ringing. pee. door bell rings. take off shirt. take off shorts. take off shoes. oops. cell phone rings. turn on computer.

people know i don’t open my door at night still they try to trick me with fancy knocks. heres the secret knock to get me to open the door: don’t knock. don’t ring the bell either. don’t call the phone, don’t call the cell phone. get me on instant messenger or write an email.

better yet, write about me on your blog.

blonde girl wrote about me on her secret blog. then she instant messaged my ass. phone rang. unplugged the phone.

she said she wanted me to call her and talk dirty. i said i just unplugged the phone.

she said she wanted to come over just to sleep.

i said we’re not just going to sleep.

then she said things that are the right things to say to a drunken man who had just bowled a 95 and was served three shots of 151. she said i was beautiful. she said that no one touched her like i did. i asked, with my hands? she said with your hands with your mouth with your words with your thoughts.

i told her all i had were dirty thoughts and she said sexy isnt dirty then she said that i taught her that. then i said i was going to bed. then she said she was coming over to leave the gate open.

went to bed. let the gate open. fell asleep. woke up. is someone trying to kill me. kill me then. fell back asleep. who’s saying my name. who’s whispering my name. who’s playing with my chest hair. who’s telling me i have gray chest hairs. three of them. four of them.

who’s telling me they don’t care if i don’t wake up. that they know how to wake up.

who’s awake.

izzy + midnight magicka + screaming into the wind

i walk around and i smile and i swoop down from the heavens and do my thing and disappear in the smoke and mayhem but when the bell rings and i put away my number two pencil i don’t know shit.

somehow i figured out money. for me, money.

i also figured out how to go on dates. how not to fear things. how to beat crime. how to bet on baseball.

how to use the force.

but those things don’t mean anything.

what means anything to you.

i don’t even know what means anything to me.

right now making dreams come true means something to me. making mountains out of molehills. finding out how small a mustard seed of faith i need to move that mountain.

people write and say nice things and link and it doesn’t help you’d think it would, it doesn’t.

it makes me look back at what they saw and i don’t see it.

people ask about the links but they should pay attention to the pictures. the pictures are the distractions. the pictures are to make up for the words. the pictures are to make up for the grammar spelling sloppiness hurriedness technology lack of everything

sometimes i don’t even know who im comparing this to. my friends, obviously, cuz they’re not only pros but they should be pros. but even the fakers. even the fake pros who don’t believe all that right wing hoo ha but they type it cuz that’s where the audience is and the meal ticket and the next job.

my kingdom for someone to say i am not better off now than i was two and a half years ago, they found no weapons of mass destruction, they lied about what they knew on 9/10, they lied about pretty much everything and now they’re giving unnecessary tax breaks at a time when our country actually needs money, fuck bush. where are the big time suit wearing mother fuckers with the fuck bush in the lede?

all over the world there are big time suit wearing leaders on both sides of the fence except in the home of the brave.

here there are just the conservatives the ultra conservatives and the fucking losers.

people forgot that the liberals are the last successful party. and other people are selfish enough to pretend that the dems didnt do anything for this nation. fuck both of them.

i don’t care.

all i care is that im about to go to bed and that a blonde girl wants me to talk dirty to her.

all i care is the day is done and i got to bowl again and i got to say hi to some nice people in the world and im one more day closer to something else.

and i really hope it really is something else.

georgy + crispy duck + toshi + at what cost

2002_05_26_blogarc.htm#77072931

karisa throws great parties… if you’re a girl.

she swears that she doesnt really have that many girl-friends in LA but i think she does that on purpose. most of the parties that she and her hot roommate throw are what are commonly referred to as sausage parties or sword fights. 500-600 guys trying to impress karisa and becca.

both gals sent out invites at their workplaces, but of course, only the fellas attended. many of them recognized my name and said they read this blog, and for those lads, i say hello, and nice to have met you.

the only fight that i got into yesterday was with an insect and i barely won.

i got stung by a bee!

it was my first time ever.

i felt an itchy thing on my back and i reached for it and i felt a little sting and i saw the bee fly over my head and try to attack karisa. i said, “i think i just got stung by that bee.”

basart investigated and sure enough, bee sting.

i kept drinking my beer and looking at karisa.

im agent feels no pain, remember.

ken told her to get the tweezers.

there was much discussion about how to pull out the stinger without making the thing spread. i dont know what thing they were talking about, but basart is an expert at everything and this was one of the few times that it actually came in handy.

i drank more beer.

ken put an ice cube on the sting.

karisa quickly showed up with the tweezers and pulled it out painlessly.

i drank more beer.

she sat back down.

i looked at her some more.

no pain.

then ken saw the bee again, swatted it down fearlessly since it no longer had a stinger.

then he stepped on it.

when they all asked how i felt, i said, “a little buzzed.”

totally awesome + d-lo + steve

fuck bob hope.

i dont want to go to work today.

it’s a gorgeous day today. i had a great night last night.

i talked to this sexy girl last night who told me some interesting things that went down the last time we were together.

this fuzzy memory that i have is pretty interesting.

what i would like to do is be in a situation where i could tell the truth on this blog because i seriously do have an interesting life and it would be nice to be able to document some of it.

for example when i went shopping last night with anna i forgot to tell you that she was wearing what howard stern calls a bippie top, and low rider jeans and heels.

all the mexican men at the grocery store were checking her out. the married men too. it was cool.

i would have liked to take some pictures of the fellas with their wandering eyes.

and thats just grocery shopping.

imagine if i could show you some of the other things that happen in my day. the real things.

for some reason people tell me the wildest stories, and show me the coolest things, and get me involved in wild situations.

more wild than i want a lot of the times, but wild enough to make for interesting blog fodder.

yesterday my neighbors caught me out on my front porch. i am very shy around my neighbors. im sort of weird that way. i like to give my neighbors their privacy so i just say hi a lot but dont engage them in massive conversations.

last night two of them wanted to talk and talk which was nice, especially since i wanted to feel them out so to speak on if they were pissed about last week’s fiesta.

one of the women said they didnt even know i had a damn party which is completely sweet.

tsar is playing on friday. i want to ask this hot girl at work to come.

i will ask this hot girl at work to come.

i hope she comes.

happy birthday bob hope. i cant remember one thing funny youve ever said, but i appreciate the fact that you traveled the world with hot chicks.

and you understood the american spirit of being on the road and cracking jokes along the way.

lemon odor thinks im a genius + bunnie thinks im a poet + dc thinks im his hero

: i cant come over because im not sure i trust myself.

today someone asked me what my number was.

not my phone number number. the other number.

i havent memorized it, so i have to count every time someone asks.

im not quite sure what im storing in my head that i dont make the extra effort of remembering Anyones phone number including my work number which i give out every day and yet every time i have to look at the phone and read off the peice of tape so i dont get it wrong.

before i started flying chopper one people didnt really think it was that glamourous. at the time it was a test vehicle and nobody wants those things.

especially xbi test vehicles.

so my boss at the time wasnt so sure how he felt about me so he asked me if i was willing to apply for the job on the crew of chopper one and i was all fuck that if im on it i want to fly it and simply out of spite did he let me apply and i did very well on the tests, peculiarilly on the memory tests.

the only explaination my personal physician can tell me is this: i can remember things when theyre either completely vital, or ridiculously trivial.

so do i remember my work telephone number, no.

do i remember my number number, no.

it’s lower than you probably think especially for a man 109.

so then anna kournikova called me. she was in town. i had already taken my second shower of the day, so when she called to say she wanted to come over to say a quick hi i said make it a not so quick hi.

she said she just had to say hi and then bye cuz she wanted to do some quick grocery shopping.

so i said pick me up and we’ll shop together, since i dont have a car, and she said, thats right, ok.

so me and anna were shopping and when we were done i really wanted to spend a little more time with her because shes never in town, but she too was having a hard time resisiting my smoky masculinity.

she said no that she had to return to her condo with her perishables. i said, lets pick up some zancau and eat it at my house where your frozen things can chill in my garage fridge. and she bit her lower lip and called me a temptor. but if you notice she didnt say no.

so as we drove closer to my house and closer to zancau she said, zancau? and i said, only if you eat it with me.

she didnt say anything. then we got right at the intersection and she said zancau? and i said, yes.

and we parked, and we walked in, and i said, whole chicken, garlic paste, and pita?

and she said, none for me, i have to go home.

thats right, she did me like that

at zancau chicken.

katie + jaime + blog blog blog

karisa got me into roast beef sandwiches. nothing that girl likes more than red meat. odd.

wouldnt surprise me at all if that girl told me she was a vampire. once i woke up and saw her sucking the blood from one of my houseguests and i said what are you doing.

she looked up at me and said, nothing. nothing.

she waved her hand infront of my eyes and i fell back asleep.

a peaceful sleep.

and i woke up feeling more refreshed than ever.

jeanine got me into dr. pepper.

laurita got me into diet dr. pepper.

karisa likes being on the busblog. she’ll tell you she doesnt but she lies.

everyone likes being on the busblog.

sometimes thats a hard responsibility to maintain.

sometimes i feel like this thing needs to get transplanted onto something bigger, with smarter design and proofreading and editing, but youre never going to please all the people all the time.

so dont try.

i truly thought that this holiday weekend i would update my links on the left and put pictures up in the archives where missing ones now reside.

i truly thought that i would write some badass shit.

karisa wrote me and told me that she would go to the pictures with me since that other chick wouldnt call me back.

when karisa types chick she types it “chic” like the 70s disco group who did le freak.

chopper one has been getting repaired after it got involved in a little shootout last night. some fuck had an anti tank rocket launcher and hit me.

i have a terrible relationship with gravity. i think i can bounce off it. when im dropping like a rock i pretend like the earth is coming at me and its my job to punch it before it punches me. im not afraid to die, especially in chopper one, mostly cuz i think its impossible.

thats why i get to fly it, btw.

i dont think its impossible like, hey look at me im flying into a mountainside, but im like hey look at me, shoot all you want fuckers, this technology will protect me and if it crashes, the foam will release immediately and surround me and no impact will crush me. which isnt all together true but right now the only thing that hurts is my heel from the seat that smashed into it.

and my wrist from writing to you because my carpal is coming back thanks to this new desk they have me sitting at.

i think i will go to baja fresh for some guacamole.

clipper girl got me into guacamole.

tsar + this friday + 11pm + the garage

chicks dont need to get any skinnier. they need to get smarter. not book smarter either. just smarter smarter.

shit i need to get smarter.

and skinnier.

and a girlfriend.

my buddy at work here says i need to have girlfriend auditions.

everything is girlfriend audtions.

and i dont need to lose any fucking weight.

and neither do you glorious ones of the rockosphere.

ive had skinny girls and not so skinny girls and all shapes and sizes and nationalities and demeanors. and you know what made my heart beat?

not their waist lines, thats for damn sure.

what made it all worth it was what was going on in their minds.

be fun. be flexible. be happy. be sexy. talk. trust. rock. risk.

i know it might not be completely possible for you to forget about your body mass, but it’s not a big deal to us men. and this nonesense about women dressing and looking good for other women is more than gay, its dumb.

dont be dumb.

nothing worse than realizing youre on a date with a dumb girl.

remember that song i want a lover who wont drive me crazy.

body size.

do you know how many girls ive been out with who have issues with their bodies and they looked perfectly fine?

how many who have dudes drooling over them even while im standing right there.

how many whose bodies i would have been very happy to cover in clam chowder and lapped up every morsel?

and these girls never once looked in the mirror while i was around them and said, damn look at that shit!

i was with a young lady the other day who i asked to spin around for me, and she did and i said, damn bitch and she said take a closer look and she spun around again.

and i said you look fine, woman.

and she said, thank you, i know.

and thats the girl i want to be with.

the self proclaimed greatest blog in the world + oish (pictured) + ten gallon hat + i heart kristin