The Fart Trio

For my daughter it is long and low and can be almost fruitile,
From my son a toot from his boot can often become brutal,
When my husband’s at it, there’s such an awful smell,
You would think that Satan himself blessed him with the bowels or hell.
And when I give them all some beans, it almost sounds symphonic
All good and well although the smell’s catastrophically atomic.


23 Things You Should Do Before You’re 23

So over the weekend Suzie81 wrote a blog about another blog, 23 Things To Do Instead of Getting Engaged Before You’re 23. I had never heard of the original blog, but apparently, the girl who wrote this blog got called a slut and a whore for writing about alternative activities she would partake in rather than getting engaged before turning 23. Also, apparently, this girl’s blog went viral. In the meantime, I can’t seem to get arrested in this town. So taking the point of view that all publicity is good publicity, here’s my list but it’s late so I don’t think I’ll get to 23. Bring it on bitches!!

1. Sleep with at least 10 people
2. Go out without any underwear
3. Strip in a strip club
4.Hang out with Miley Cyrus
5.Go through a goth phase
6. Go through a heavy metal phase
7. Go through a punk phase (complete with green hair, a mohawk, and piercings)
8. Get rip roaring drunk and throw up on your neighbors lawn
9. Sniff glue
10. Worship Satan

(blogged, trashed, revised, reblogged, thank you)

An Open Letter to The Rock N’ Roll Super Children

Dear Jesse,

I’m sorry that, as our first born, you had to be our guinea pig. But what an adorable guinea pig you were!
Remember kickin’ it old skool style in our Hollywood one bedroom? I remember bringing you home from the hospital and not knowing what to do. How was I going to get the laundry done? How was I going to use the bathroom? But, of course, everything worked out in the end.
How about those awkward baby months? I remember how, when you were 3 months old, your impossibly long eyelashes grew in almost overnight. Grandma called that day. I picked up the phone and immediately gushed into it, “He’s beautiful!”
I remember holding your tiny little  body and thinking that you gave me a sense of calm and reassurance. This is a trait that you still have today and it makes you a natural leader.
As you grow older, I never fail to be amazed at your natural grace, your passion for reading, and your aptitude for music; the way you start out playing two sloppy arpeggios on guitar and manage to turn it into a beautiful song.

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Dear Anjellica,
I guess the verdict is still out on whether our years of experience paid off.
When you were born the nurses lay you next to me on the hospital bed and you just kept mewing at me like a little kitten as if, at less than an hour old, you were eager to start on your first gossip session.
I remember how your face popped out of your swaddled hospital blankets like a rose that had just bloomed.
As you grow older, I never fail to be amazed at your enthusiasm, your creativity, your precocious sense of humor, and your stunning, astounding, unequivocal beauty; how you manage to take a pen and post it note and turn it into a tiny work of art that, no matter how many litter our floor, I could never bring myself to discard.
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To both of my Rock N’ Roll Super Children: Shine on you crazy diamonds.
Love always,

An Open Letter to The Principal

As Queen of the Strongly Worded Emails, I recently wrote the following letter to my son’s principal regarding the excessive amount of homework he has been getting. Anybody want to give a ‘hell-yeah’?

Hello Mr. Principal

My son, Jesse Bergen has started his first year in (school) starting in August. First of all, I would like to say that I appreciate Miller’s friendly attitude and all the attention they give to their 6th graders. Because of that, Jesse’s transition into junior high has been an easy one in that respect.
What I do want to discuss with you, is the incredible amount of homework my son has been getting.
Last Thursday, I had the misfortune of receiving a phone call from Jesse’s counselor letting me know that Jesse did not do several of his homework assignments. Jesse’s actions, in this capacity, were dishonest and irresponsible and I am in no way condoning or excusing his behavior and he was appropriately punished and made to make up these assignments.
However, when I saw the amount of homework Jesse would in fact be getting, a lot of my anger turned to sympathy.
After a 7 hour day at school, Jesse is doing 2-4 hours of homework (not counting the make up assignments) more than most full time jobs! This hardly gives him time to pursue his extracurricular activities (Jesse has been studying music for about 3 years now and is a multi-instrumentalist), much less play outdoors, or quite frankly, have any time to be a kid. Jesse definitely understands his work, and though he does lose focus at times, he does not do so excessively.
I, as a mother, as well as Jesse’s family, are definitely feeling the effects of this excessive work load. After working at a part time job, I come home and spend much of my time on the internet trying to figure out which assignments are due and missing, and emailing the teachers about this, as well as helping Jesse with his homework. I am depressed and anxious, and this puts a strain on my ability to take care of my 6 year old daughter. Furthermore, it is impossible for us to do anything as a family, like even something so simple as eat out for dinner, since my husband works weekends.
I have done some research on this topic before emailing you, and experts recommend that children get 10 minutes of homework for every grade year (Jesse gets a minimum of twice that much). They also have found no correlation between children who do more homework getting better grades or being any more intelligent. There is evidence that teacher’s often underestimate the length of the homework assignments. On a personal note, I find some of the homework thought provoking and educational, if lengthy, but some is simply busy work with an excessive amount of writing.
I do not blame (school) for this specifically, nor any of it’s staff or teachers. I have spoken to several parents who have children who attend schools all over the L.A. area and many of them have children who are constantly doing homework, and many of them share my opinion. However, since (school) is my son’s school, I think it’s a pretty good place to start.
I am looking forward to hearing your opinions and feedback on this matter and would love to go into more detail on this topic if you wish. I hope you can help me out please. I miss my son.
-Marissa Bergen

I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock N’ Roll

If anyone has lived in a big city long enough they have probably had run ins with famous rock stars. The fact that me and my identical twin sister roamed the streets of New York City and then L.A., scantily clad, with a mission to promote our rock band, probably didn’t make that any more difficult. Pamela Des Barres did a best selling rock n’ roll kiss and tell. While the ‘rock stars’ I have taken to bed read more like a who’s who of who? I still think I have some great  PG-13 rock star stories to tell so here it goes…

Dee Dee Ramone

Dee Dee Ramone was such a complicated character. He had such a great wit and truly a genius sense of humor but I believe he was also a very damaged person. It is difficult to convey this through a series of events but I will try.

The first time we went to Dee Dee’s apartment, he was living in the Chelsea Hotel with his then 19 year old Argentinean bride Barbara (who was, by the way, an awesome girl-shout out to Barbara!). My sister and I had just taken particularly strong tabs of acid. Dee Dee was so funny. I can’t remember what he said but my sister and I could not stop laughing. I think Dee Dee really liked making us laugh. I have no idea if he knew the full circumstances or cared.

The pretense of the visit was that Dee Dee was going to write a song with us for our band. When my sister and I got there, we were a bit disappointed to find out the song was already written and he would just teach it to us so that we could perform and record it. Given our state though, there was no telling what would have come out of a songwriting session and it’s a small miracle that we remembered the song at all. I guess it was still kind of cool that he gave us his song although we felt that we could have just done a Ramones cover at that point.

Eventually our relationship with Dee Dee would cool as I think was the case with many relationships Dee Dee had. He was given to mood swings and it was not long before we would see his dark side, and, as much as we loved his company at times, we knew we had to keep away.

I’m still grateful for my friendship with him and he would later give my sister and I one of the biggest compliments of our lives when he wrote about us in his fanzine, describing us as ‘big haired girls from Brooklyn who probably have biker boyfriends’. RIP Dee Dee Ramone.

Joey Ramone

Joey was a much more private person than Dee Dee so my story about him is not nearly as insightful. Joey often deejayed at the club where me and my sister ran the coat check, Coney Island High. It was great when Joey would show up for work and greet me and my sister by saying “Hey Sister Grimm!” (That was the name of our band.) Then for the remainder of the night, I watched as the coats accumulated and so many people approached Joey saying “I don’t know if you remember me but…” I thought it was so cool that of the many fans that Joey spoke to, he actually knew who we were, even if he didn’t exactly know our names.

Lemmy Kilmister

Another mainstay of the rock n’ roll scene, you could find Lemmy sidled up to the bar, at any of the hip local dives if he was in town. I have had the pleasure of running into Lemmy in New York, London, and Los Angeles. Some funny stories there…

While in New York, my sister and I were working the coat check at Coney Island High when Lemmy called in to the club to have a bottle of Jack Daniels delivered to the hotel he was staying in. My sister and I were elected to do the delivery. Lemmy came down to meet us and then asked us to come up to his hotel room. However, because we did not have ID we were refused access. Lemmy  did his best but the answer was still no, and sadly, we had to return to our East Village apartment.

However, we would run into Lemmy several more times in the course of the next couple of years and it was always great to see him. If you’ve ever heard a Motorhead song and listened to the lyrics, you can tell what an awesome guy Lemmy is and that always came through, even if he did sound like he had a handful of marbles in his mouth.

Another special Lemmy moment was in L.A. on New Years Eve, (I can’t remember the year). He was jamming with Slim Jam Phantom of the Stray Cats at Slim Jim’s Cat Club up on the Sunset Strip. The big countdown had just occurred and I didn’t think much of it when all of a sudden, who was standing before me to give me my New Year’s kiss but Lemmy himself! No tongue, but full on the lips, naughty enough but still respectable. Now how many girls can say that?

Ace Frehley

There was a club in L.A. on Melrose called The Gig (not sure if it is still there), where a group called Glam Nation had a residency. They were a group of also-ran rock stars who performed vintage cover tunes. Often they would have some impressively famous rock stars who would come up and jam with them and the evening’s guest on this particular night was none other than Ace Frehley.

After the set was over, my sister and I were wandering around aimlessly hoping someone would tell us about a really cool after party. We were approached by a woman who was the spitting image of Bobbie Fleckman (if you don’t know who Bobbie Fleckman is, do your rock n’ roll homework and watch Spinal Tap) who asked us if we’d like to join Mr. Frehley at this hotel room… would we??!!

After some finagling, this woman finally extracted the whole gang out of the club and to the hotel room. Although the years have made the night somewhat fuzzy, highlights include Ace singing and playing guitar to ‘2,000 Man’ for me and my sister, Ace being escorted into the bathroom every hour or so, presumably to snort whatever drug was elaborately presented to him, and Ace repeatedly thinking up creative ways to tell my sister and I that Paul Stanley was gay and then giggling like a 3rd grade girl. The night ended when me and my sister fell asleep on either side of Ace in the early hours of the morning. We were treated to some room service breakfast and sent on our way the next day. I can’t remember if Ace regained consciousness the next morning. They probably told him he slept with both of us.

Bruce Dickinson

Okay, this one is sad… I actually met Bruce Dickinson at the Roxy, also up on L.A.’s Sunset Strip. He was hanging out with some people I knew and we were introduced. Bruce looked at my sister and I and said “You look like the two most interesting people in here.” And we couldn’t thing of ANYTHING to say in response other than nodding lamely and saying ‘thank you’ or something like that. To this day, I regret not having come up with a more clever response AND to this day, I still can not think of one.

As my memoirs draw to a close, I struggle to think of a poignant introspection that might succinctly conclude this chronicle of my rock n’ roll adventures. But instead of coming up with a brilliant one liner that might even, dare I say, bring a tear to your eye or inspire food for thought, my mind is clouded with one thought only….Oh God, I hope my  mother doesn’t read this.