Thursday, December 31, 2009

Ring in the New Year With Steve!


So even though I couldn't find any audio or video clips of Steve Perry singing Christmas carols, I did manage to find an audio file of Steve Perry, with Journey, singing Auld Lang Syne at a New Years concert. I know, I know. Go figure, right? YouTube is a vexing beast. This clip also includes a few other covers, should you wish to listen past the first song (and really, who wouldn't?).

Happy New Years, everybody! Pop open a bubbly and ring in 2010 with Steve Perry and your loved ones. I know that's what Steve will be doing. Except instead of going to sleep after the ball has dropped, he'll probably be banging a lady friend while simultaneously giving you a PIO as you watch old Journey videos and listen to your favorite Journey songs. Talk about starting the new year off with a bang.

Monday, December 21, 2009

A Very Perry Christmas


As any fairly consistent reader of this blog can attest to, when Steve Perry celebrates a holiday, he goes all out. He doesn't fuck around, you could say. And Christmas is no exception. In fact, I am about to impart a little secret to you all that nobody else knows. And parents, I should warn you: do not let your kids read this next part. (Actually, don't let your kids read any part of this blog. It's not appropriate, and you know better.) Okay, ready? Steve Perry is actually Santa Claus.


Yes, you read that right. What, you think I'm bullshitting you?! Come on now, would I do you wrong like that? Steve Perry really is Santa Claus! Of course, like any legend, a few details have been changed to keep Steve's true identity under wraps. For example, the fat, grandfatherly-type figure with the sleigh and the reindeer and the milk and cookies is all crap. It's really just Steve, rocking one of his signature Journey outfits, tooling around in his 1963 Ford Falcon convertible, delivering gifts all over the world (FYI: the convertible can fly. It's magic.). And instead of eating the milk and cookies (or the milk and celery sticks some of you lame-os put out, and you know you put them out) he sleeps with your mom. Or your sister. Or your daughter. Pretty much any female member of your household he'll sleep with. But don't be alarmed; it's consensual and they like it. And, just like the fake Santa facade we've all grown up with, Steve does accept Christmas lists. Whether he decides to get you anything you request is really up to him (I mean, he does know what's best), but he will take your suggestions into consideration. And it's not too late to send him a little note; simply send your letter to the following address:


Steve Perry

c/o The City by the Bay

Don't Stop Believin'


Or you can leave a note in the comments section. I make no guarantees they'll be read, but have a little faith.


Merry Christmas, Perry Heads. Just remember: if you happen to hear the faint sounds of "Be Good to Yourself," "Escape," "Faithfully" or any other Journey tune on Christmas Eve, you didn't accidentally leave your CD player on. It's Santa Claus Steve, imparting to you his own brand of Christmas cheer.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Steve Perry Sings Christmas Carols! (Or "Holiday Music" for the PC-Minded)

So because I love all my amazing readers, I wanted to give you guys an early Christmas present. Something from the heart. From me to you. So I scoured the internet (well, YouTube and Google) to see if I could find a video or an audio file of our dearly beloved singing Christmas carols...and this was the best I could come up with.





It's a slide show of Steve Perry photos accompanied by Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas songs. Yes, it's lame. And disappointing. Which brings us to an important life lesson: you can't always get what you want. Life is disappointing sometimes. I'm sorry. But, hey, it's the thought that counts, right?


Feel free to regift.


P.S. I promise to make it up to you with a post about how Steve Perry might celebrate the holidays. I've got something cookin' up in my head. Stay tuned.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Isn't it Bromantic?

I told you I'd find more evidence of Steve and Neal's secret bromance! TOLD. YOU. You didn't think I would, did you? DID YOU?! Oh ye of little faith. I present to you Exhibit B: Steve Perry being all up on his guitarist and "arch rival," Neal Schon. Oh sure, they're rocking out. Mmm hmm. Okay. Riiiiggggghhhhtttt. That's what they want you to think. Because if you knew the truth, that these two are BFFs, the whole Journey legacy would crumble like a house of playing cards. Now you might be saying, "SVB, you're reaching. Far. Drop this silly conspiracy you've cooked up and talk about Steve's crotch some more." First of all, you would say something like that, perv. But more importantly, riddle me this: if these two were just rocking out in the moment, like you say, then WHY THE HELL IS STEVE THAT CLOSE? I mean, he's practically mounting Neal! Think about it: would you want to be that close to the area of a person you didn't even like? I'm just saying.

Okay, continue to doubt, Doubting Thomas. But when this shit gets real and you see it on Extra or Entertainment Tonight or a more credible website, remember where you heard it first. And help me get my cut of the profit.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Strung Out



So I landed on this video on YouTube and started watching it, hoping that it would be cheesetastic, but was surprised to see that it was pretty straightforward. Steve Perry was rocking a pretty normal outfit, and the song is pretty catchy. However, I did notice one thing: one of the guitar players looks reminiscent of Neal Schon. Which got me thinking: if this was for Steve Perry's solo album, away from all things Journey, why would one of his guitar players look like Neal? Especially since the two are pretty much arch rivals. Could it be possible that the fighting and disagreements were just a public ruse and they secretly share a mutual platonic man-love? A bromance, if you will? To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised--the drama certainly bodes well for publicity. It's more interesting than reading story after story of how the two are BFFs for life. It's food for thought, and I will definitely be doing research to find more circumstantial evidence. Stay tuned.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

You Love Steve Perry.

Yes, you do. Look again at the title of this post. That is indeed a period at the end. Not a question mark, not a "..." or anything else that might suggest that it is anything other than a statement. You. Love. Steve. Perry. Wanna know how I know? I read Ohthatdeb's essay. Wanna know how she knows? Read it for yourself! And show her some love, leave some comments.

The Neck

First off, how fucking cool is this picture? I do believe that this is my favorite photo of Steve Perry. He looks like he should be in an 80s punk rock English band or something. Such a neat vintage rock photo. But I digress, for that is not the reason for this post. What I am about to discuss is Steve Perry's neck.

To be fair, I never noticed just how long Steve's neck was until Ohthatdeb mentioned it in a few of her comments, and now whenever I see a picture of him, that's the first thing I look at (no, seriously). The man has a long-ass neck. And I can't help but wonder: why is it that big? And okay, smart ass, I know that it houses his vocal chords and helps him sing and swallow and all that good stuff. Doi. But so do the rest of our necks, and ours aren't nearly as long or as majestic as Steve's. So what gives?

Here's my theory: Steve Perry's neck is evolution's way of saying, "This man's voice will knock your socks off, so recognize and respect." The packaging of Steve's power--his vocal chords--is obvious so that anybody who comes across him will immediately know that he is more special than any other human being on Earth and to treat him as such. Also, Steve Perry's vocal chords are double the length of ordinary ones--how else can you explain his magnificent range?--and made of platinum. No shit. So they need to be housed in something that's just a teensy bit different than the run-of-the-mill models currently on the market. Basically, it boils down to this: Special vocal chords=Better packaging. Hey, it might not be fair--I'd like a long, sexy neck--but I didn't design Steve Perry's anatomy. Take it up with Mother Nature if you have a problem, k?

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Fact or Fiction?

Steve Perry really is "King of the World."

Fact. Leonardo DiCaprio may have uttered those famous words on board the Titanic, but it's Steve Perry to whom they actually apply. Steve does, in fact, have a Certificate of Monarchy signed by every world leader. For the most part, he lets the leader of each country make his or her own decisions, but is consulted on issues that cannot be easily resolved. He is also the official umpire for the World Leader World Series, which China has won for the past five years. Another interesting tidbit: James Cameron had to get Steve's permission to use the phrase "King of the World" in Titanic.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Crotch Shot of the Day!

Oy vey. It's been one of those hectic weeks, where I've been running on stress and adrenaline, and now that it's over, I sure could relax with a healthy dose of some peni--I mean, hey! It's been awhile since we've had a Crotch Shot of the Day and I think I should rectify that!

Ah, Steve and Sherrie Swafford in happier times. Even though Steve wants you to think that his cringing is related to the dish he is cooking, it's really because of the ungodly pressure those ball breakers are putting on his family jewels. Whenever I see a picture of him sporting a pair of slacks that even Barbie wouldn't be able to fit into, I wonder how he manages to do things like sit, bend over and dance. I mean, in this picture, he can't even stand up straight! And note the uncomfortable/scared look on Sherrie's face--perhaps she's afraid of the beast in Steve's pants? I mean, she's a tiny girl. I'm just saying.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Not-So-Great Cover of Don't Stop Believin'

Okay, so I couldn't resist following up the previous post with a horrifically bad cover of "Don't Stop Believin'." I realize I might be opening myself up to harsh criticism by talking shit about this particular version; for some inexplicable reason, people frigging love Rock of Ages and I'm ready for the backlash. However, that won't stop me--this cover SUCKS. The first time I heard it, I wanted to throttle the entire cast and then I wanted Journey and Steve Perry to unite just briefly to throttle it again. I don't care if the characters are supposed to sing like they're tone-deaf; that's still no excuse for butchering the song. Geez, I think I'd rather hear nails scraping against a chalkboard for ten straight minutes than this big pile of poop.


Edit: I just watched it again. It's like a trainwreck I can't stop watching. What is up with that blonde, big-haired guy and his incoherent rambling, or scatting or whatever the hell it was? Can I single him out for an extra punch in the face? Good grief.

Great Cover of Don't Stop Believin'

"Don't Stop Believin'" is, without a doubt, my favorite Journey song, and despite the fact that it's gotten more play than a man whore, I'm still not tired of it. I love listening to the original version, of course, but I also like the (good) covers that have popped up as well (hello, Glee anyone?). Apparently I'm a little slow on the uptake, because I just now found out about Sam Tsui's cover of the song (via InStyle, of all things) that has gotten near to three million hits on YouTube. He sings five-part harmony in his cover of Glee's cover of Don't Stop Believin'. I'll wait a moment until you wrap your brain around that...Got it yet? Nope? Still need a little more time? Well, okay then...Good now? Yes. Alrighty then. Let's proceed to the video, shall we?

Edit: I'm not sure how the video looks on your browser, but on mine, it cuts off the fifth Sam. Trust me, it's five-part harmony; if you go to YouTube and watch it you'll see all five Sams.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Steve Perry is a Smug Bastard

Of course, I mean that in the best way possible. But come on, look that face: those lips, pursed so matter-of-factly, the "I'm King of the World" posture, those dark eyes sizing up the audience--his whole persona screams, "I'm a badass. You're not. Gotta problem with
that?" On any other dude, this cockiness would just scream for an ass-beating, but on Steve Perry, it's simply a statement of truth. Steve is indeed a badass. No, I don't have a problem with that. You do have a problem with that? Well then, you're the asshole.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Seen and Heard

Location: The Improv Comedy Club in good ol' Tampa, FL

Heard: "Escape"

Thursday night. Ladies night. Actually, I'm pretty sure The Improv didn't have any drink specials going on, but I was there with my ladies nonetheless, knocking back the booze like it was going out of style (Bonus: my drink came in a souvenir glass--boo ya!). There were four of us altogether; three of us had birthdays in October, and the one who didn't bought the tickets so we could all celebrate. Anywho, we were waiting for The Untamed Shrews show (which, by the way, was very funny; very naughty but very funny) to begin, and I guess to make the wait less painful, The Improv had music pumping softly through the house speakers (although how any sort of wait could be considered painful with the presence of alcohol is beyond me). The music that was being played was the sort of run-of-the-mill crap you'd expect: Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, John Mellencamp, blah blah blah. And then my ears, which are fine-tuned to pick up anything Journey-related, caught the unmistakable melody of "Escape." Excited to be out on the town with my friends, excited to be drinking, and excited to hear one of Journey's lesser-played songs out in public, I exclaimed, "Hey! They're playing Journey!" I was met with a chorus of polite sentiments like, "Oh, that's cool," but I could tell they didn't give two shits. But they're good friends. They understand my, um, healthy appreciation of Journey, and they were nice enough to pretend like they cared. And I can drink to that.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Steve Perry's Diet

Any fan of Steve Perry's will at some point find their mind wandering about what he does on a daily basis: what does he eat? When does he sleep? Does he like his food touching? How does he make love? Is that marvelous man-hair really genetic or does he use something special on it?

Okay, first thing's first: if you've read this blog--at all--and are still wondering about why his man-hair is so gorgeous, just save yourself some embarrassment and leave now. Steve Perry's man-hair looks like it does because he's Steve Perry, alright? There's nothing you, or I, or Paul Mitchell can do to make our hair sparkle with just a fraction of the radiance of Steve Perry's. It is what it is. Deal with it.

However, I can shine some light on Perry's diet. Quite simply, Steve Perry eats whatever the hell he wants. His genetics (him being Portuguese and Steve Perry) are such that they practically make him a god here on Earth. He always sports a natural sun-kissed tan, even in winter; as mentioned before his man-hair is incomparable; his teeth are always white; and his physique is already perfect. Unlike the rest of us mere mortals, Steve doesn't have to worry about things such as transfats and bad cholesterol--they have absolutely no effect on him whatsoever. In fact, he could chow down on nothing but Country Crock, Crisco and powdered sugar and his body would still have no fat and perfect muscle tone.

Bet this bit o' info makes you want to kill yourself, don't it? I know, I know. Me too. It's almost not fair. Steve gets to enjoy the nectar of the gods (i.e. all the junk food ever invented ever) and the rest of us have to moan, groan and sweat our asses off on the treadmill if we so much as look at a doughnut. But, like Steve's man-hair, it is what it is. We just have to deal with it and continue to count our calories.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Put Up or Shut Up: An Open Letter to Steve Perry

Just like the rest of us, my very cool reader, Ohthatdeb, loves her some Steve Perry. She loves it all: the PIOs, the glorious man-hair, the sensuality and general awesomeness, the bad-assery, his voice--for the most part, Steve can do no wrong. Except in one area. It's gotten to the point where she's pretty much said, "Enough of this bullshit. I can stay silent no longer," and decided to address Steve via an open letter.

Below is the letter for your reading pleasure (Hey, I'm a poet and didn't know it! I can make a rhyme any time! I--okay, okay, I'll shut up). I'm sure you'll agree, no?

(Note: Ohthatdeb has since made a few edits to the letter, so if you want to read the final FINAL version, please visit her website, Sub-urbane, here. She also has tons of other cool write-ups, so check it out, sit a spell, and leave her a comment or two. Or ten. Just show her some love, k?)


***

Hey, Steve Perry!

Yeah, I'm talking to YOU, buster.

Listen, I've been doing some checking and you seem like a decent sort:

Warm...

SP_CWS_Sweet

Goofy...

Steve Perry, Notorious Goofball

and from my personal "I'm married, not dead" perspective, nummy like massa sovada:

SP_happy_crinklesCrinkles! Those are the eyes of a man who knows how to laugh!

(I’ll assume that you are also a magnificent human mess, just like everyone elsebut we'll stick with warm, goofy and nummy for now.)

So this is gonna hurt but baby, we need to talk.

OK, fine: I need to talk. You need to listen. Stay with me here...

For a very long time you recorded and toured and ran yourself ragged...

SP_CS_OMG SP_CS_Ultimate Steve Perry Picture #31 Steve Perry Picture #03

And that made a lot of people really happy. But it wasn't making YOU happy (which I guess is sort of important) and you were fried:

SP_Sleepy

So you retired.

And then... you came back! Sweet!

SP_Damn_Baby_You_Fine And might I add: Damn!

Aaaaand... then some other crap happened soooooo... you retired again.

But ok, that whole thing sucked, I can understand why you'd throw up your hands. And maybe at some point you'll want to record something elseyou, I'm saying. Screw those other guys.

I'm being very nonchalant about this, you notice. We’re cool.

Here's what's NOT cool. Every once in a while, someone says something about you writing new music. New music in 2008! New music in 2009! Oh, now wait... new music in 2010! And who keeps saying these things? Hmmm... let's see... well, among others, YOU do! For YEARS you've been saying this: I'm writing again, I've got some sketches, I go into the studio every once in a while, I've been thinking about it, I can't decide, I think I'll think about thinking about it...

Stephen. My friend. I have to assume that you DO know what your voice means, to so many people. The reaction is not “Oh. That’s nice.” It's emotional. It's visceral. It's sexual.

It's medical! Studies prove that only the very strongest opioids trigger the same endorphine release as listening to Still They Ride live at Budokan, 1983. (Which was, incidentally, named the "Best Vocal Performance of Anything Ever" at a recent UN General Assembly plenary session on Music for Peace and Development.)

But, see... the maddening thing is that you DO sing... anyone with reasonable skill at internet research knows THAT... you're just not sharing, dammit! There you are, storing up for yourself this treasure upon the earth, and every once in a while saying that you're thinking about singing for us again. And then, you know, NOT singing for us. I gotta call bullsh*t on that.

As a matter of fact, I gotta call something else. If I had an attribute that made men melt and swoon (or whatever you guys do... what, howl and hit each other?) Anyway, if I kept saying "Mmmmm, yeah, I've been thinking about sharing this attribute... maybe..." and then when it came right down to it, kept NOT sharing it? Guess what they would call me. Go on, guess. You already know the answer, but I'll say it in good old Anglo Saxon. They would call me a c*ck tease.

Now, I don't know what the male equivalent would be but, with all due respect sir, you are one. Why do I say this? Because you know all about it. I find it hard to believe that you've never Googled yourself, or perused the comments on the squillion YouTube videos of you... you know, the ones covered in virtual lipstick kisses (and/or drool)? Steve, these women... they’re serious. They are in love. And you're toying with their affections.

Even the guys want you back—this is from a recent article on Cherrybomb:

"Is it just Cherrybomb’s obsession with one of the greatest bands of the 80’s, or does Steve Perry not understand his importance in the world of rock and roll? I’m completely f*cking baffled by Perry’s ability to resist his own greatness."

Every time you drop a hint we get all worked up. And I'll be honest -- it almost seems like you're having fun. Example: one of the Q&As on Fan Asylum asked whether you were ever going to release Always (w/ Nuno Bettencourt). And you said "I've thought about it.... Always is a beautiful song."

Honey, why you gotta treat me so bad?

And here you are at the U2 show:

Unfair! Look at you, all trim and relaxed, that long graceful neck, sexy motorcycle boots, even THE NECKLACE. And do I see some classy silver threads in THE HAIR? And the worst part is that little half smile -- you look like the cat that ate the master tapes.

You're trying to kill me. You're trying to kill me right where I stand.

Look, if you DO want to sing and keep your sanity, here's my recommendation: Establish your independence.

Record an R&B covers thing -- whatever you like (as long as you do Jackie Wilson's "I'm the Man" because that's totally hot.) It’s a sure bet for sales, and given your retiring nature, just the fact that you’ve released something is big news. Now here's the beauty part: you release it yourself, on this thing called the Internet. All downloads, very little overhead, you keep the cash. You don't tour, or maybe just a few scattered shows. No, it's not a big worldwide splash, and yes, some a**holes decide to pan it because your voice is different from the way it was 30 years ago. But your faithful fans love it, and you gather about you a cozy little cult following.

Once you've established this setup, you can record and release whatever you want. You can perform when and where you feel like it. You proceed with your current boundaries: If I'm wearing a cool mafioso suit, you may take my picture. If I'm wearing scruddy sweats, get lost. If I happen to be with someone whose precise relationship to myself you know I am not eager to discuss... c’mon, don't be a jerk. (Please. Thank you.) Everyone respects these boundaries, mostly because of your niche-y awesomeness, but also because they know that if they don't, 50 women wearing "Mrs. Steve Perry" t-shirts will sweep in and make with the pummeling.

Once you see that this works, you call me up: "Deb, you were rightthis rocks." I do not say I told you so. However I do happen to mention that I make kickass sweetbread (true) and the hands-down best cup of coffee you will ever have (I'm not bragging, these are just facts). You get a wild idea: "Hey, lemme fly you out here, we'll hang around in scruddy sweats, watch baseball, and eat sweetbread until we bust a gut." Awesome! You quickly realize what a truly gifted writer I am and hire me to ghostwrite your autobiography. This is a massive success, we both become rich as Croesus, and everyone lives happily ever after.

See? No big whoop.

So here we are at The Bottom Line.

We miss you, Stevie.

We will leave you alone if that's what you want.

But if that IS what you want then STOP MESSING WITH US!

If you aren't going to sing ever again, just tell us, so our broken hearts can start to mend. (Sniffle, sniffle...)

If you DO want to sing, then SING, DAMMIT!

But baby, please... don't tease.

Love and kisses,

ohthatdeb


Happy (Belated) Halloween

I'm not gonna lie, the week leading up to Halloween, I was thinking about this awesome Halloween-themed post I had in mind. Then life, like it tends to do, kicked me in the metaphorical nuts and I came down with the Ass Plague and updating this blog was the last thing on my throbbing, achey mind. And, now, well, Halloween is over. Sigh.

But you know what? I say screw it. Because the picture I found is so sweet, and is the perfect combination of Halloween magic and Steve Perry goodness that I'm doing you mofos a disservice if I don't post it:

That's Luke Skywalker and Steve Perry, right down to the glorious man-hair and bad-ass leather jacket. Happy (belated) Halloween.

P.S. You can see more of the iconic awesomeness here.


Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Crotch Shot of the Day!

"You should've been gone!" Well. I think we know why Sherrie stayed in that relationship for as long as she did. Thing's as big as a midget's arm. Damn.

And just for funsies, here's the accompanying video. It's one of my personal favorites, NOT because of the crotch shots, but because of the delightful eighties cheese factor. It's my second favorite eighties vid that features tacky medieval imagery.


*"Oh Sherrie" schlong pic submitted by Ohthatdeb.

Fact or Fiction?

The song "Afternoon Delight" is about having sex in the afternoon.

Partial fact: The song "Afternoon Delight" is about having sex in the afternoon with Steve Perry. It was so good, it spawned a song which has been featured in Arrested Development and Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy among other programs.

Sky rockets in flight takes on a whole new meaning, doesn't it?

Sunday, October 25, 2009

I Have No Words

I have no words to describe the sheer majesty of this photo (which can be found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/9061703@N03/4038540010/ btw). The caption that goes along with it reads, "This is the kind of thing that comes up at the day job- what would happen if a giant Steve Perry Robot attacked the West Seattle Bridge?"

I don't think I (or anybody else, for that matter) could add anything to this. A giant Steve Perry robot attacking Seattle? That's pretty amazing in and of itself.

Friday, October 23, 2009

New Blog Alert!

Don't get your pantalones in an unsightly wad, I'm not cancelling this blog. Are you kidding me? I'm having too much fun being ridiculous to cancel it! However, I have started a new blog, posting about my life and shit. The tone is going to be in keeping with the tone of this blog, sarcastic and (hopefully) funny, and it'll just be about what's going on in my life, anecdotes, observations, what-have-you.

So check it out. You may or may not give a crap, but if you like it, that's cool. If not, I hope you're still enjoying the Steve Perry majesty on this blog.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

The Crotch

Steve Perry's nickname may be The Voice, but one could argue that it could also be The Crotch. In case you haven't noticed (and you have noticed, don't even play like you haven't), Steve was fond of some shockingly tight pants back in his Journey days. Seriously, every time I look at photos where he's sporting nut-cruncher after nut-cruncher, I feel like a notice will pop up at any moment, asking me to pay a fee. Because even though he's fully clothed, his choice of bottoms more than adequately show off his, um, personal area, if you know what I mean. You know what I'm talking about? His "down there" business. His pelvic region. His penis, okay? I'm talking about his penis.



Now you would think that since Steve's slacks played such a prominent role in his career, they would have played an equally prominent role in this blog. Well, I hate to break it to you , but your humble narrator is sometimes oblivious to things and once in awhile needs a swift kick to the behind in order to wake up. I'm only human, after all. But my lovely reader Ohthatdeb got me in gear by kindly suggesting an idea for a new blog feature (and she didn't even need to kick me, switfly or otherwise--she's that good). So it is with great pleasure I announce Crotch Shot of the Day. It's pretty self-explanatory, but in case you need a little extra help, it means that I will post pictures of the ensembles that best show off Steve's family jewels. Consider it a hall of fame of his crotch, if you will. And for the first entry, I thought this little number would be appropriate (again, submitted by Ohthatdeb):

Ta-da! Now I'm no anthropologist, but something tells me that such a blatant display of both Steve and Neal's disco sticks is probably a primal form of peacocking--maybe they're subconsciously channeling an animal that flashes his dick in order to get mates, I don't know. What I do know is that both are out there, daring the world to look and admire. And that what Neal's sporting may not be legal.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Hump Day Magic

It's Hump Day. You're caught somewhere between, "It's almost the weekend!" and, "My god, two days left of work!" It is this day that people look to time-honored traditions--drinking, either alone or with a group--to get them through the rest of the work week. So I wanted to do my part and post a little something magical and awe-inspiring that might make you forget, if only for a moment, that it's only Wednesday. And what could be more magical or awe-inspiring than Steve Perry and a mythical animal? Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Steve Perry and a unicorn:





Happy Hump Day.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Don't Fuck Wit Steve Pt. 2

The previous post was my attempt at intimidation. I wanted to disturb you, to make you quiver in your boots, so that you will take what you're about to read as nothing short of God's honest truth. So now that you're good and terrified, let us begin.

We all know Steve is a badass. However, very few of us (and by that I mean only me) know just how much of a badass Steve truly is. Believe it or not, luscious shiny man-hair, wrinkle-free sun-kissed skin and a voice that could make Joan Rivers cry (have you seen her face? NOT an easy feat) does not make someone a badass. Well, what does? you may be wondering. And I'll tell you: being able to crush a man with your bare hands.

Little-known fact: Steve Perry was trained in the martial arts by Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan AND Chuck Norris. He was trained in boxing by Mr. Rocky himself, Sylvester Stallone. And he opted to stay a month in a maximum security prison ward, just because. The result? He can round-house kick you in the face, feed you a sucker punch before you knew what hit you, and shiv your ass with nothing but a Q-Tip and a paper clip--with lethal results.

My point? Don't fuck with Steve, okay? Just leave the man alone. Nobody has ever been able to say, "I took on Steve Perry and lived to tell about it." Food for thought.

Don't Fuck Wit Steve


'Cause he will cut you. Let me reemphasize: HE. WILL. CUT. YOU. Look hard into those eyes. Are those the eyes of somebody you would want to piss off? I didn't think so.
On another completely non-related note, how great does his skin look? Seriously, his complexion is rockin' for a man his age. Maybe he should strike up a deal with Clinique for a unisex skin care line.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Housekeeping Bidness

I'm just going to briefly interrupt the Steve Perry goodness with a few houskeeping announcements.

First, I added a search feature right at the top of the blog. If you want to look up a specific post or whatever, just type in a keyword or phrase and you're good to go. There's also a "share it" widget in case anyone just loves a post so much, they want to shout it from the rooftops...er, the virtual rooftops of the internet.

And the addition I'm really pleased about: a contact widget, located underneath the "about me" section. As always, you are welcome to leave comments on specific posts, but if you'd like to contact me directly about anything you see on here, have any questions, or simply want to say hey, click on the button and type in your message. I love communicating with my readers and hearing feedback, so don't be shy! I don't bite--hard.

And finally--I doubt anyone who reads this cares about any of this, but I do like to flatter myself from time to time. So please indulge my delusion. ;-)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Ol' Boy's Still Got It

Every once in awhile I like to post more current pictures of Steve, just so the doubters out there can plainly see that yes, the ol' boy's still got it. The above picture was sent in to me by an awesome reader. As you can see, Steve is trying to keep his primal sensuality (and that glorious man-hair!) on the down-low, but it still shines through. Ain't no putting a damper on that.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Fact or Fiction?

Steve Perry is susceptible to depression.

Fiction. The only two moods Steve Perry is capable of are drop 'dem panties and badass.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Seeing Double!


It's just another lazy Sunday morning. I'm searching the phrase, "Allison walking on sunshine" on YouTube, and I run across this clip. Does the kid at the beginning look familiar? Yes, I know he looks like he should be on a Disney Channel television show, but that's not what I'm talking about. Try to get past that. Does he maybe bear a striking resemblance to a certain former Journey front man?

I thought so. That kid looks like Steve Perry with an emo version of his hairstyle circa the Raised on Radio days. As I was watching that clip, I kept picturing the "Separate Ways" video with this kid's head superimposed on Steve Perry's body, and you know what? It worked!! Once he kicks his heroin habit for good, I think he should consider a career in a Journey cover band.

And on a totally unrelated note, that doctor is scrumdidlyumptious. I wish my doctor looked like that.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Chillaxin' With Steve

When I imagine Steve relaxing after a long day of Perry-ing it up and generally just being awesome, I picture him kicking back on his front porch with a cigar in one hand and a glass of high-quality scotch in the other. The cigar would be Cuban, of course, as Steve only demands (and rightly deserves) the best; the scotch would be a Macallan 25 Year single malt. Now before you get to thinking of Steve as a yuppie and your opinion of him goes down the shitter, let me say: Steve Perry is no yuppie. Sure, he does like the finer things in life, like top-of-the-line alcohol and smokes, but he can also party it up like a redneck eighteen year-old with a fake I.D. Trust me, Johnnie Walker and Pabst Blue Ribbon share shelf space with the Macallan. It's all good.

I also imagine Steve wearing a red silk monogrammed robe. Yeah, it's a little Hugh Hefner, but unlike Hugh, Steve can actually pull it off and not make you throw up in your mouth. In fact, he does more than just pull it off: he looks like a fucking bad-ass. I mean, picture it: that shiny, gorgeous man-hair silhouetted against dark red silk. Manly and picturesque, right? You bet your sweet ass it is.

You might have noticed the absence of a lady friend, and you would be correct. No, Steve is not going through a period of loneliness. It's just that when he relaxes, he prefers not to have any distractions, and that includes women folk. It's one hundred percent pure man time. Or rather, one hundred percent pure Steve time.

We should all take a page from Steve's book. I mean, if numbing yourself with booze and nicotine isn't relaxing, then ya got me. Am I right, or am I right?

Saturday, September 26, 2009

GO BULLS!


So I know that this is not a Steve Perry-related post, but please allow me to indulge for just a second. I grew up in North Florida, where all throughout my childhood and adolescence, I had to hear how great either the Florida State Seminoles or the University of Florida Gators were. When it came time for me to head off to college, I chose to go to the University of South Florida, not because we had a great football team (I transferred in '04 and we sucked--big time) but because I liked the mass comm program. I figured that our football program would always be an underdog of sorts, and was fine with that--like I said, I didn't choose to study there because of the football team. However, I have to say that as an alum and a fan of the Bulls, it feels so fuckin' GREAT to see my alma mater hand the Seminoles their asses on a platter ON THEIR TURF. It's a new era in college football, boys and girls, and all these teams that have been relying on their legacies are gonna have to step it up a notch and actually bring their A game.
GO BULLS!!

Monday, September 21, 2009

Seen and Heard: Triple Threat!

Well, loveys, it's been awhile since I've updated this blog, and I really don't have any good excuses. I've just been lazy. But I've encountered so much Journey music at random times these past few weeks, that I felt a Seen and Heard is the best way to get back on track. So without further ado...

Locations: Five Guys in Tampa, FL; a USF football game at Raymond James; a wedding in Louisville, KY

Heard: "Don't Stop Believin'" (Five Guys); "Any Way You Want It" (football game); "Faithfully" (wedding)

Probably my favorite out of the three was being surprised by "Any Way You Want It" blaring from a car radio in the tailgate lot at Raymond James Stadium. The icing on the cake was the drunky drunk slurring along with it, decked out in green and gold. Just witnessing the school spirit, along with a love of Journey coalesce so beautifully brought a tear to my eye and an extra spring to my step and got me psyched for the game. And talk about a good omen: USF won that night, and I do believe that it was the talent of the players plus the fact that a Journey song was played beforehand that helped seal the victory.

I was also excited to hear "Faithfully" played at the wedding reception, although I do believe the DJ played it at the wrong time, thus wasting a perfectly good Journey song. He just didn't read the crowd properly. A few too many slow songs had already been played and the energy was just dwindling. While I do applaud this effort to psych everyone up with a little Journey, I think a more appropriate song would have been "Don't Stop Believin'" or maybe a little "Be Good to Yourself." But that's just my humble opinion.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Fact or Fiction?

Steve Perry is incapable of being afflicted with dandruff.

Fact. Steve Perry's genetics (being Portuguese and Steve Perry) makes him impervious to most afflictions: cancer, high blood pressure, depression, STDs, PMS and, of course, dandruff. In fact, if you looked in his shower, you wouldn't see any bottles of shampoo or conditioner. Well, you would, but you wouldn't recognize them being as such. They're marked simply magic and wonder.

However, every Superman does have his kryptonite, and Steve is no exception. When he's within 50 feet of Neal Schon, he's powerless and vulnerable.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

You Too Can Be One Less


No doubt you've all seen the commercials for Gardasil, the vaccine that promises girls and young women they will be "one less" victim of cervical cancer should they choose to get vaccinated. But I'll let you in on a little secret the pharmaceutical bidness doesn't want you to know: the shot DOESN'T WORK. That's just a ploy to get you drop more of your hard-earned money on a "miracle cure" for, let's face it, a disease you probably didn't know was that serious in the first place. All so the pharmaceutical industry can make more dough.

First, lemme be real wichu: cervical cancer is no laughing matter. That's some serious shit. And even HPV in milder states is still a pain in the ass, fucking up your "down there" business and forcing you into a walk of shame to your gyno to get your situation straightened out. And even after that, you still have to endure the humiliation of telling new lovers about what went down, suggest they double-bag it, and pray they still want to touch you. NOT GOOD.

So what are my options? you may be asking yourself. If Gardasil doesn't work, am I SOL should I contract HPV? Why, I'm so glad you asked! Because I'm awesome, I ran across a little secret that the pharmaceutical industry wants to keep under wraps but that I'll share with you all because it's a matter of public health and safety and you guys deserve to know: Gardasil is not the answer. Steve Perry is.

I know, I know, ain't that some shit? But hear me out. Johns Hopkins did a study and found that exposure to Steve Perry can help cure and prevent HPV and cervical cancer. Now, HOLD UP. Before you raid Wal-Mart looking for The Essential Journey, you should know that varying exposures to the Steve Perry goodness results in varying degrees of protection. So be aware of the facts before you start treatment.

1. The best form of protection is to actually sleep with Steve Perry. Johns Hopkins found that women who actually bedded Steve were immune from every STD in existence (including those that have yet to be discovered), cervical and breast cancers, and they sported luscious, shiny hair. The children they also bore as a result of subsequent conquests (not with Steve) came out healthy, happy and predispositioned to score 2400 on their SATs.

2. If you're not able to physically sex it up with Steve, the next best thing you can do is watch Journey videos and listen to Journey albums. You won't get cervical or breast cancer, but you might get mild forms of STDs. It won't be anything life-threatening, and it'll clear up in a few days with a doctor's prescription, but it might throw a kink into whatever plans you may have. Your children will be normal.

3. The last, and least effective, option is to look at a photo of Steve Perry and pray to god to you don't die because you contracted some crazy-ass STD. You might also want to offer up another prayer that your future children aren't, as they say in The Hangover, r'tards. Trust me on this: drop the ten bucks and buy a Journey album. Don't resort to this option.

So now you know what's up. Please, please please take this information and educate your daughters, wives and girlfriends on the seriousness of HPV and what they can do to protect themselves. It's a matter of public health. Be one less.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Seen and Heard--Vegas Style!

Location(s): A dueling piano bar in the New York New York casino and Le Cabaret (a bar w/ dancefloor) in the Paris Casino

Heard: "Don't Stop Believin'" in both locations.

So the only thing that makes this particular Seen and Heard "Vegas style" is that it took place in Vegas. Otherwise, it would be just like any other Seen and Heard. No showgirls came out and performed a kick line; Carrot Top didn't appear with a trunk full of Journey-themed props and give a show (although he was on my flight out to Sin City. Um, hello, can we say good vacay omen?). But that doesn't mean it was any less entertaining. Rather, the performance by the dueling pianists at New York New York was joined by a chorus of drunken voices singing the song at the top of their lungs, and in Paris, people were shaking their groove thang (awkwardly) to it. On both occassions, friends were made; lovers were in drunken love; money was lost, both at the casino and at the bar; but a good time was still had by all. And those who had gambled and drank away their life's savings were kind enough to sob in private so as not to kill the mood for the rest of us. Viva Las Vegas.




Saturday, July 25, 2009

Looky!

So my friend Brett sent me the link to the following article talking about "Don't Stop Believin's" status as a cultural touchstone. The article also mentions that Steve Perry is currently recording a solo album as well. As I'm still recovering from my vacation, I'll forego trying to come up with some witty commentary and just post the link. Enjoy!

Monday, July 20, 2009

Sin City, Steve Perry Style

Well, kids, tomorrow I embark on an epic journey to Las Vegas (and, no, I'm not kidding myself; considering the people that I will be with, this trip will indeed be epic), and as any fairly consistent reader of this blog can guess, this means my thought processes will naturally wander in one direction: how would Steve Perry do Sin City? That's right, boys and girls! Strap on your seatbelts, 'cause we're doing 95 down Dreamtown Lane! And before we begin, just a warning: you will not be in this scenerio. Why? Because this time, Steve has some bidness to take care of (including seducing a little lady), and frankly, you'd be a liability. So you'll just have to observe this time as a fly on the wall.

First of all, since Steve is a classy guy, he'd arrive in Vegas in style: fly in and rent a pimp-ass car with which to tool around in during his stay (I'm thinking a little red Corvette). And the first place he'd take that car would be to the Bellagio to check into his suite. He'd toss his keys to the valet, grab his bags, and jauntily retrieve his room key from the front desk, whistling, "Dixieland Delight" all the while. Why Dixieland Delight, you ask? Because it's a damn good song; Alabama is king. Now quit interrupting and don't question Steve's taste in music ever again.

After getting settled in his suite and freshening up, Steve is ready for some hard-core gambling. He goes down to the casino, and stays there for about 6 hours, playing the slots, roulette, blackjack and poker, and winning every time. Now, had this been any other person, the casino workers would have suspected him of using less-than-honest methods while playing; but since this is Steve Perry, they just smile, laugh, clap him on the back, and comp him drinks and a penthouse suite. Casino whores are throwing themselves at him left and right, but he takes his time; he knows they'll still be there later on that night.

After he's done gambling, Steve decides to catch a show, and since he's a bad-ass motherfucker, he doesn't go for the lame Cirque du Soleil or Wayne Newton shows. He catches wind that Aerosmith will be in town, and since "Love in an Elevator" is one of his all time favorite jamz (yes, with a z), he hightails it to enjoy some good, old-fashioned rock and roll. During the performance, Steven Tyler notices him in the audience, and he wastes no time inviting Steve up onstage to finish the concert with them. With Steve contributing, the audience members are immediately overcome by waves upon waves of PIOs, and when the music finally stops, they find themselves sucking on cigarettes, satisfied.

After the show, Aerosmith and Steve Perry imbibe a few alcoholic beverages and smoke some herbal suppliments, and Steve makes his way back to his suite, alone. But he knows he won't be alone by the time he actually gets to his room; on the way he picks up a cocktail waitress and the two giddily step onto the elevator.

When they get to the room, Steve wastes no time in amping up the charm. He pours two drinks, and engages her in flirty conversation, being generous with his compliments. The talking turns to kissing, the kissing turns into full on making out, and pretty soon Steve promises to give it to her "anyway she wants it" (BOOM! She just got Journey-ed!) and, well, the rest is history.

See, Steve Perry doesn't just "do" Vegas; he grips it by the cojones and makes it cater to his every whim. Now do you understand why you couldn't be in the scenerio this time?

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Ballin' Wit MJ


Sometimes I like to scour the interwebs for pictures that adequately show off Steve's mane of glorious man-hair or his sweet taste in outfits, but when I stumbled upon this little gem (courtesy of Steve Perry Online), I knew I had hit the jackpot, because this image shows how much of a BALLER Steve Perry is. How did the Earth not implode with the King of Pop and The Voice in the same room? I just wish Steve wore one of his trademark Journey outfits--next to Michael and his jacket, it would have looked pimp!

Want even more visual stimulation? Check out the video they did together (along with other 80s movers and shakers, including Dan Ackroyd, which I find hilarious). Check out the graphic at the beginning--it's a technological marvel!




Saturday, July 11, 2009

Seen and Heard

Location: Howl at the Moon (an awesomely fun dueling piano bar) in Tampa, FL

Heard: Don't Stop Believin' (really, what other Journey songs are played in clubs and bars?)

It's Friday night. I'm part of an incredibly rad 80s-themed bachelorette party, imbibing alcoholic beverages and enjoying the rowdiness that Howl at the Moon consistenly seems to offer. From Cyndi Lauper- and Madonna-inspired costumes to a costume that looks like the lovechild of Rainbow Brite and Punky Brewster (a.k.a. mine), we're all clapping and singing along and having a grand ol' time. Then, one of the piano players says, "Who wants to hear some Journey?" which causes applause and cheers from all across the room. He teases us at first, playing a little "Faithfully," "Lights," and "Who's Crying Now," knowing full well the song we want: "Don't Stop motherfuggin' Believin'." Then, after airing his concerns of possibly getting his ass kicked if he didn't go ahead and play the damn song, we heard those magical opening bars and commenced a drunken group sing-along.

If I haven't adequately described the pure, unadulterated joy I feel when I hear Journey played in a public place when I least expect it, let me announce: THAT IS ONE OF THE GREATEST EXPERIENCES LIFE HAS TO OFFER! It unites strangers and makes us all feel as if we're at home (or at a friend's house) instead of in a random bar. I love experiences like that. It makes life a little richer.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Angsty Steve!

This video gives us the rarely seen "angsty Steve." That's right--not all of his videos are of him undressing you with his eyes and serenading you with sweet nothings. There are a few (see also Foolish Heart), such as this one, where the snazzy outfits and flowing man-hair are considerably toned down because Steve wants you to feel one thing and one thing only: his angst!

And after having watched this video, can't you feel it? I mean, the angst and hopelessness is palpable! If you were to stick your tongue out, you'd be able to taste it. Try it. See? Taste that metallic flavor? That's Steve Perry's ANGST! His hurt! His anger! (Told ya you'd be able to taste it.)

But, like any man with a support system, his bros come to the rescue in the form of free-falling out the window and staring at him as he drinks coffee. Hey, I don't pretend to understand male-bonding. But, really, when it comes to Steve Perry and Journey, are we even entitled to an explanation?

Friday, July 3, 2009

How Would Steve Perry Celebrate the Fourth of July?


Well, boys and girls, the fourth of July is just around the corner and I know we're all wondering the same thing: how would Steve Perry rock his Independence Day? (You were wondering that, don't argue.) I think I know how he would celebrate...


First of all, he'd be celebrating in San Francisco. And why not? While it's not mandatory, July 4th is one of those holidays that seems fitting to celebrate in one's hometown with family and friends. And Steve seems like the kind of guy who never forgets his roots, so he'd be in the City by the Bay, watching the fireworks display over the water. But that's at the end of the night! We're getting ahead of ourselves here! What would he do in the hours leading up to the fireworks?


He'd host a barbecue. This wouldn't be just any barbecue, mind you. I mean, it's Steve Perry. He would be cheating his talents and his iconic status by throwing a normal gathering. This would be the party of the year. Bigger than P. Diddy's White Party? Yes. Bigger than Oprah's annual birthday bash? Yes. Bigger than Pedamundo? Yes, yes, YES. Steve Perry's July 4th barbecue would be like a Florida State tailgate, Woodstock, Bonaroo, Hugh Heffner's Playboy Mansion parties and a weekend bender at Amy Winehouse's place all rolled into one patriotic and debaucherous package on acid. We're talking people tripping, jumping up and down on one of those huge trampolines while holding Roman Candles, threatening to light themselves (and others) on fire. We're talking about people having crazy monkey (yet safe) sex on the ground, in the bushes and in the trees. We're talking about all the hamburgers, hot dogs and Coke one could ever hope to feast on. We're talking about enough liquor to get even the most seasoned alcoholic blitzed. We're talking shiny man-hair and red, white and blue cupcakes.


Where would all this take place, you ask? At Steve's place? At a rented house on the outskirts of San Francisco? Hell no! This would take place right next to the goddamn water! Just like the value and importance of a good party, Steve knows the importance of being on time. He knows that thousands gather to watch the fireworks display by the water and that if you don't get there early enough, your chance of getting a good spot is all but shot. So he stakes his claim the night before the celebration, at approximately 7p.m., sets up and camps out, so that when it comes time for the fireworks, he'll already be in a prime location. He won't have to worry about interrupting the party temporarily to travel to the fireworks; he and his party-goers will already be there and can continue to celebrate without any hiatus. And because Steve is such a good, down-to-earth, totally non-pretentious guy, his party is open to anybody and everybody. There are no lines. No admission fees. No special VIP treatment. Steve's motto is, "The more, the merrier," so anybody who is patriotic, likes to eat and drink and likes to cut loose and party, is welcome.


Happy Independence Day, Perryheads. May your celebrations be as patriotic and rockin' as Steve's. And if not, go to San Francisco.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Steve Perry: the Man is Ageless

If you've ever seen a picture of Steve Perry during his Journey days and one of him now--even if it's from a few years ago--then you've no doubt noticed that he looks, well, the same. Wanna know why? It's because the man is ageless. It's a well-known scientific fact that if you're Portuguese and Steve Perry, you will never age, ever. In the same way that he doesn't need sunscreen because of his genetic supply of SPF 85, Steve Perry doesn't need to worry about anti-aging treatments. If he were to style his hair and wear the same outfits as he sported during his Journey days, you would think that you stepped through some portal back into 1983. But you didn't step through a time portal; you just came face-to-face with the awesomeness that is the Lover of Many, Father of None. It's an awesomeness that's often imitated, but never replicated. Recognize and respect.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

R.I.P. Michael Jackson

I know this blog is about Steve Perry, but damn, Michael Jackson is dead! How can I not address it? The man had his demons, but his impact on music and pop culture is impressive, and for him to pass so suddenly like that is...sad.

Below is a video of one of my favorite Michael Jackson songs. R.I.P. Michael.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Latest Steve Perry Sighting


According to this blog, this picture documents a Steve Perry sighting made back in March of this year. Thoughts? Methinks he's not lookin' too bad for, what, sixty? Of course with him being Portuguese and Steve Perry it shouldn't come as a surprise: the man is ageless. It's a fact. Look out for a future post that goes into this further.

I've also heard that he's been spotted at Disneyland, which I love. I wonder which ride is his favorite? The spinning teacups?