Silly me! I actually toyed with the idea of beginning this week's column with the too, too tawdry tale of an ill-fated hipster boy who innocently retired to the loo at a new Fremont hot spot and accidentally burst in on a local politico as she (or he!) was getting boned, doggie-style, up against the bathroom wall! (Whoopsies)! Or EVEN by exposing the popular newscaster who made an emergency visit to a local PROCTOLOGIST who specializes in (kill me now) rectal warts. But you know: there but for the grace of god. So instead let's kick off with the far less repulsive adventure had by my glamorous friend Sharon Rosario, a bona fide in-crowder who writes for The New York Times music and film sections.

At a painfully swank NYC studio party, Sharon spotted a rather curious fellow, smack between Billy Joel and Fiona Apple. He was decked out like a deranged extra from Hee Haw, with a filthy T-shirt and ratty cargo pants that were DOWN AROUND HIS ANKLES (!) as he enthusiastically waved his impressive ASS SCARS in Billy and Fiona's faces while regaling them with tales of his hair-raising BEAR ATTACK in the Yukon! Sharon was, of course, smitten.

Long story short, Sharon quickly found herself outside, in the rain, giddy from drink and sandwiched between the Mysterious Ass Scar Man and his 100K Hummer (license plate: RKSTR) as he stuck his tongue down her throat. After a few delicious moments of tonsil tennis, Mysterious Ass Scar mysteriously fled, leaving twitterpated Sharon wet, dazed, and longing. Cut to a small bar in (for god's sake) SNOHOMISH, WA: Sharon is relaxing with a drink when she notices a familiar HUMMER pull up outside.... License plate? RKSTR! Stultified, she watches as long-lost Ass Scar unloads and takes the stage, giving, "in this reporter's opinion, one of the best rock shows I've ever seen" to a room "full of people who looked like farmers" (welcome to Snohomish, Sharon). It turns out that Ass Scar was none other than up 'n' coming rock bad-boy/superstar (29 arrests on record--no convictions!) Phil Fischer! "He never even noticed me," she laments, and worries that she'll never see her rugged dream boy again. ARE YOU LISTENING PHIL?!?

In other news: Lucky "Jeremy" spotted former Phish/current Oysterhead lead Trey Anastasio wandering downtown near Second and Pike. Giddy with excitement, he called out, "TREY, TREY!" and had a brief tête-à-tête with the gracious rocker, congratulating him on his earlier surprise performance with Widespread Panic. To the best of my knowledge, Trey and "Jeremy" did not tongue kiss, nor do they have bear-attack scars on their asses.