It’s one of the most often-asked question in rock ‘n’ roll: Why do hot chicks always fall for the most fugly band dudes? Oh, right… they’re dudes in bands, which trumps any potential facial or body deformity that he may have. (Plus, don’t even get me started on how guys think having a musician pedigree somehow gives them permission to have THE worst personality on the planet. Oh, the stories I could tell and the names I could drop…)
Check out my latest gallery for Metromix.com to see who I consider to be the hottest/grossest couples in recent history*.
* For those with weak stomachs, please wait 30 minutes after eating in order to view this gallery. Some pairings may induce vomiting—or at least a wicked case of acid reflux. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
The first time I talked to Chris Carrabba, I think I was still the office manager at Alternative Press. Most of my days were spent sorting mail, cleaning up after our gastrointestinally challenged cat Ogre and dreaming of writing pieces for the magazine that were more than 50 words. It must’ve been late 2001 or early 2002, and the whole editorial staff was prepping for AP’s “100 Bands You Need To Know” issue. I had been trumpeting Dashboard Confessional’s awesomeness for months and I’m pretty positive that I got the assignment mostly because Jason Pettigrew was tired of me nagging him everyday.
Me: “Hey, Jason! I’ve seen the future of music and it’s all about a lil’ punim named Chris Carrabba!”
Jason: [Growl.]*
Me: “No, really! I saw him play with his band Dashboard Confessional a couple weeks ago at the Beachland Ballroom and the place was packed. Plus, all the kids were singing along. It was like Children Of The Corn—but in a good way.”
Jason: [Annoyed snort.]
Me: “C’mon… I can do this! Let me do this!”
Jason: [Snarl.]
Me: “Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it. Lemme write it.”
Jason: “Fine.”
And… Scene.
(Note to future journalists: Never give up when you believe in your pitch! Just make sure your pitch is on-the-money.)
I remember Jason let me borrow his office for the interview and I sat perched on a wobbly stool—which, if I’m not mistaken, Jason still uses to this day—and waited for Chris to call from his Florida HQ. He had just stopped teaching full-time but had gone back to school to visit his former students for a holiday pageant or something. (Swoon, right?) I had what felt like a million butterflies swirling around my stomach and about 30 seconds into the interview, I knew the convo would change the course of my professional life. It sounds hokey, but I just knew in my gut that Dashboard Confessional was on the verge of exploding and I was about to capture the swell before the storm.
I’ve been lucky enough to talk to Chris a bunch over the years and the two of us have even become bros, which still causes me to pinch myself on a regular basis. Now, any good writer knows that you shouldn’t write for anyone else but you—not your editor, not your audience and especially not your subject. I try to live by that guideline as much as humanly possible but I have to admit, I squealed just a smidge when I got the following text from the beau of the boulevard:
Here’s the interview Chris is talking about. Let me know if you agree!
* Oh, it should also be noted that despite the above depiction, Jason has always been my biggest cheerleader. He’s been a mentor, a bestie and a constant source of wisdom and unfathomable humor. So what’s with the ‘tude? Oh, he just hates “pussy emo music.” For a man raised on Revolting Cocks, can you blame him?
I’ve spent most of the weekend shackled to my laptop, toiling away on my book proposal for what feels like the millionth time. I’m totes exhausted—even though I’ve barely moved from my dining room table except to sleep, eat, potty and watch the occasional episode of iCarly. Okay, that’s not entirely true. This morning, while I waited for the TimeWarner dude to replace my half-eaten internet wires (damn vermin!), I also caught an episode of Drake & Josh. I think Josh Peck might be the worst over-actor of all time, but Crazy Steve more than makes up for it. Anyone know who Crazy Steve is? Let me see a show of hands.
Um, allow me to introduce you the unexplainable Crazy Steve:
Yeah, told you. Anyone who flails around with bras tied to tennis shoes is okay in my book.
