Okay, so I've given our little "where should I post" issue some thought and I think I've come up with an elegant solution. I know that a handful of you are limited as to your MySpace access, so here's a deal I'll make with you:

My part of the deal: Daily, I will continue to post exclusively over at www.myspace.com/brendanboogieband. Then, every Friday, I will post the week's journal entries in one chunk on the Scampernet. While you won't get your daily fix of boobage and jackassery, I wouldn't feel right about myself just leaving you hanging.

Your part of the deal: Shutting your yap-holes.

Deal? Done? Good.

All right, kids. It's time to cut the cord.

As you may have noticed for the past few months, I have been double posting on the Scamper site and at the Brendan Boogie Band site over on MySpace. It's been slightly annoying for me and a little confusing for you. It sounds weird, but I have gotten more than one "Where should I comment?" question.

From here on in, the blog will be exclusively on the MySpace page, so bookmark it now:

www.myspace.com/brendanboogieband

It's your one-stop shop for all things me-related. But fret not - Nate is going to keep The Scene alive and kicking over on the Scampernet for all your rock and roll needs. Rest assured - if there's any Scamper-significant shenanigans, you will be duly notified.

It's time for my fearless 2008 baseball predictions. Ladies, start your wagering. We'll start with the National League, about which I know next to nothing except that I think the pitcher batting is totally fruity.

NL East: New York Mets. I'm going to keep picking them to be good until they finally win. Then, I'm going with another pick. How edgy of me!

NL Central: Chicago Cubs. The Cubs spent roughly the GNP of Canada in the off season. If they don't win the division, we may have to question this whole "capitalism" thing.

NL West: Arizona Diamondbacks. Really? Do I have to pick a crap-ass winner of this crap-ass division?

NL Wildcard: Milwaukee Brewers. They're young, they're hungry, and they're named after beer. Go Brewers!

Now, on to some real DH-ridden steroid-lovin' baseball.

AL East: Boston Red Sox. I'm predicting monstrous years for Dice-K, Julio Lugo and (yes) J.D. Drew.

AL Central: Detroit Tigers. See Chicago Cubs re: capitalism. My perennial Cleveland pick finally came through last year, so I'm dropping them like a prom date with morals.

AL West: Seattle Mariners. This could actually be a tough division with the M's battling it out with the Angels. Still, I think the Wild Card is going to come out of the one true powerhouse division in baseball...

AL Wild Card: New York Yankees. Our resident Yankee fan Vinny Shit on the Face says they're in a "rebuilding year" and will probably miss the playoffs. He's so entirely full of feces on just about every level that I am forced by the power of logic to pick the Yankees to have a good year. Of course, winning the wild card wouldn't be considered a "good year" for these twisted Yankee fan sociopaths. Christ, I hate them.

World Series pick: I will go with the Cubs over the Tigers.

There you have it. Set your calendar for October to tell me how awesome I am.

I can't even begin to tell you how much I enjoyed listening to Red Sox baseball as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for an hour and a half this morning. It's the only morning radio I can remember that didn't make me want to pull a Christopher Walken in Annie Hall and veer my car into oncoming traffic.

In fact, I think they should play all the games in Japan this year. Technically, I believe it'd actually be cheaper to buy a plane ticket and hotel room in Tokyo than to get an actual bleacher seat in Fenway. I'll crunch some numbers and get back to you.

Hey, check out the video from this weekend's show at O'Brien's (taken by the lovely and talented Jen). It's up on our MySpace, our Facebook, and on YouTube. If you still can't get it, the Brendan Boogie Labs are working on the technology to have it played on the inside of your eyelids while you sleep. So look forward to that.

Baseball season has begun and tomorrow I will unveil my end-of-season predictions! I have been eerily accurate in the past, so get your bookies on speed dial.

Hey rockers. Thanks so much to all of you good folks who eschewed your relatives on this high holiday weekend by rocking out with us on Holy Saturday. And Holy Moley was it a fun show! Nee hah! Some highlights:

- If you haven't been to O'Brien's since the remodel, it's a whole new ball of balls. First and foremost, the "Saskatchewan Rough Riders football locker room in August" smell has been mercifully removed. The whole place has been redone and turned into a nice little rock club. And the bathrooms! Oh, but are they glorious! To quote Hogg about his favorite restroom, "I felt like a king. I mean, a king taking a shit. But a king nonetheless."

We couldn't have been treated better by the staff. All the bartenders hooked us up all night long and we were blessed with the hardest-working sound guy in show business. When I walked in, the manager's sister even gave me an oatmeal raisin cookie. Yay O'Brien's!

- Before the show started, I pulled each one of The Mystery Tramps aside and said, "Look, this is an important show for me - don't fuck it up." Even at their tender ages, they weren't even slightly intimidated by me. They absolutely rocked the scroti off the entire place. Great kids, a great sound - just a really fun band. Check them out.

- Thanks to the kindness of our bartenders, I had a few gratis Miller High Lifes flowing through my bloodstream, resulting in me being (if you can imagine) even more obnoxious than usual.

Early in the set, I felt a little bad about all the verbal abuse I was heaping on my bandmates, so I decided to show my appreciation by awarding the "Brendan Boogie Band Employee of the Month" award. It was just my way of showing that I care and respect my band members.

Nate opened up the envelope and read, "And the winner of the March 2008 Brendan Boogie Band Employee of the Month... for the fourth straight month - Brendan Boogie."

I know! I was as shocked as you. I would like to dedicate this award to all of my past bandmates who I had to fire for drawing attention away from me by being too good.

- I must have been more obnoxious than even I thought, because immediately after the set Nate approached me and said, "Look - I know yelling at your band is part of the whole 'schtick' you do, but even I have my limits, man." I had to give him a beard massage with full release just to make him feel better. Sorry, pal! I like beer. A lot.

- And what can I say about Soap Stars? A really fun band full of chronic masturbators. Great guys. At 2am I got a text from Duncan the guitarist that read "I heard you went home with one of the Mystery Tramps." I swear - I have no idea how these rumors get started.

Thank you all for coming out. It was a great, fun night. We look forward to playing at O'Brien's again next month as part of the April Harris residency.

And... my bracket has already been mathematically eliminated. I knew I shouldn't have picked ITT Tech to beat University of Phoenix in the finals. Curse this loyalty to my "tv/vcr repair" major!

Well, friends - I've done all the pimping I can do. I've offered you a terrific show featuring former daytime drama actors, underaged powerpop prodigies, and egomaniacal douchebags. The ball is now in your court. You must show up to O'Brien's tomorrow night at 9pm, drink many beers, and enjoy a night of radio-friendly pop rock music.

I know it's going to be tough on you. But Jesus died today or something. The least you can do to honor his memory is witness my drummer's likely jager-induced obliteration.

I know it's coming down to the wire to get your March Madness bracket picks in, so I've got your money-winner for you: go with Ball State. It's funny because it's a college with the word "ball" in it.

What? Ball State isn't even in the tournament this year? Okay, I guess you could always go with the "pick the teams that were good when I was in junior high and actually watched college basketball" technique. That leaves us with Villanova, Georgetown, and Syracuse.

What? Ronnie Seikaly doesn't play for Syracuse anymore? And Patrick Ewing's SON plays for Georgetown? Christ, I'm getting really old, aren't I?

Eh, I'd say just forget it. I'd say your best bet is to not play the brackets at all this year. Instead, you should take that five dollars and buy me a beer at O'Brien's this Saturday night to soothe my old creaky bones.

Or you could just copy the bracket of the office receptionist's twelve-year old son. They always win it anyway. Either way, come to our show on Saturday. As usual, we'll drink our failure away.

An overheard conversation between Hogg and Brendo:

Hogg: You know I was thinking about the movie Roadhouse today...
Brendo: Of course you were.
Hogg: And I was thinking - this movie has EVERYTHING.
Brendo: Hmm... tell me more.
Hogg: You like broken windshields, right?
Brendo: I suppose I do, yeah.
Hogg: And you like watching an old man get his auto parts store messed up.
Brendo: Well, sure.
Hogg: And Brendo... what about the Swayze? You like the Swayze, don't you?
Brendo: I'm only human.
Hogg: See? It's got EVERYTHING!
Brendo: Remember that scene where the blonde girl strips in the bar?
Hogg: Hells yeah, I do.
Brendo: I watched that on cable a few months ago. It's really not as sexy as I remember.
Hogg: Yeah, she doesn't do a whole lot.
Brendo: And yet when I was a kid, I used to jerk off furiously to that scene.
Hogg: And now you can only masturbate to the thought of Patrick Swayze's battle with pancreatic cancer.
Brendo: It's weird how life changes, huh?

For those of you Roadhouse fans, come on by the Double Deuce (a.k.a. O'Brien's in Allston) this Saturday night to watch Dalton (the Brendan Boogie Band) kick the asses of some local ruffians (The Mystery Tramps) while Sam Elliot (Soap Stars) grows a cool stubble and dances with my frequently naked blonde love interest (Mike) and gets killed at the end by the bad guy (the bartender, I guess) sending me into a murderous karate-kicking rage. Should be a good show.

It's my way or the highway. The pain don't hurt. I used to fuck guys like you in prison.

I'M YELLING LOUDLY! YOU'RE ALL HUNGOVER AND I'M YELLING LOUDLY!!!!

There. That felt good. And let's face it - you deserved that one. Aren't you a little old for dressing up in kelly green tights and getting shilelaghed on a Monday night? There's nothing sadder than seeing the parade of college girls doing the Walk of Shame this morning dressed as leprechauns.

But Saturday nights are still all right for fighting. Perhaps even getting a little action in? And this Saturday night we present The Brawlston in Allston. O'Brien's. Nine o'clock doors. Three bands, one winner. And by "winner," I of course mean "you." You're the big winner.

Okay, so I've already mentioned our new young friends The Mystery Tramps, ages 15-18 and already way fucking cooler than you'll ever be. Seriously, these guys are still in high school and preparing to rock your bobby socks off. When I was in high school, I was playing horrific Queen covers and taking third place in the high school talent show with this asshole. (NOTE: The asshole is the one on the left. The one on the right seems perfectly nice). You should really catch the Tramps before they explode all up in your grill.

But speaking of people cooler than you, I didn't realize this until today: Todd Rotondi (the front man for the band Soap Stars) is an actual soap star. It's not just a clever name. Apparently, he played Bryant Montgomery on As The World Turns. Check out his imdb page.

So this Saturday night, I'm offering you underage rockers and former television personalities. And where is The Batman? He's at home, washing his tights!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, my liver-taxing friends. Or, as the Irish like to call it, "Amateur Hour." No, but sure - wait in line and pay a cover to get in the Sligo Pub tonight. Money well spent.

Speaking of amateurishness, I've put up a few rough-ass versions of our tunes on the Brendan Boogie Band MySpace page. Just as a caveat - they sound like absolute shit. It's just Nate and his guitar, me and a tambourine, and a guy in the room next door playing louder than either of us. As soon as I have better recordings done, they'll be up. But people have been complaining about no tunes on the MySpace, so choke on those.

If you want to hear what the band REALLY sounds like, you should plan on heading to O'Brien's in Allston this Saturday. Pimpity pimp pimp.

Overheard between a songwriter and his drummer:

Mike: Man, I have had the melody of that new song stuck in my head for two days.
Brendan: Yeah, me too. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure I'm the greatest songwriter of all time.
Mike: I think you're right!
Brendan: You think I'm right?
(A vicious beating and much weeping ensues.)
Mike: Et tu, Brende?

Your opportunity to bask in my genius is only 8 days away, as the Brendan Boogie Band hits O'Brien's in Allston on Saturday March 22. Check out the bands we're playing with: Soap Stars and The Mystery Tramps. Good bullhonkey.

Everyone have a safe weekend and watch out for the daggers of two-faced senators tomorrow.

Photos of the NY governor's call girl have started to surface. Hmmm... worth $5000 a pop?

Right now, I'm torn between "absofreakinlutely" and "let me get my checkbook."

But mark my words - this is the best thing that ever happened to this chick. Before this thing is over, she is going to make Heidi Fleiss look downright media-shy. Early bets on which celebrity she'll start dating. I'm going to go with Kid Rock. Takers?

Speaking of "about to blow up," I want you all to check out The Mystery Tramps. They're young, they're awesome, and they're going to be fucking HUGE. They're opening the Brendan Boogie Band show at O'Brien's in Allston on March 22. See them before they take off.

Mark my words - this has happened before. Back in the summer of '04, a little band called the Click Five opened for Scamper at a small club on the South Shore. Since I wasn't even IN Scamper yet, so I went to the show. Now I can say that I knew someone when something happened or something.

Anyway, the Mystery Tramps are next. So don't miss them next weekend.

Just in time for baseball season, the Brendan Boogie Band has a new video up on YouTube. Check it out. I think you'll like our new direction.

We're thinking about wearing those mult-colored satin jackets during the March 22 show at O'Brien's and maybe adding Orel Hershiser on trombone. Thoughts?

Dear City of Cambridge:

Hi. How's it going?

Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, you've got a fucktard working for you.

Clearly, the sign right above the meter where my car is parked reads "9am to 5pm." So why would I get a parking ticket for an expired meter with "5:30pm" scrawled in barely-legible idiot-cursive on it? Chewbacca is a Wookkie. He lives on Endor. But the Ewoks live on Endor. It doesn't. Make. Sense.

And no, I'm not going to take a day off work and fight this wrongful ticket in your infuriatingly unwieldy court system. Do I look like your typical Cambridge crazypants? Do you see a badly-kempt graying ponytail on the back of my head? Do I smell like a mix of patchouli and failure? Well? Do I?

No, I'm just going to write you a nice little check for twenty bucks and go on with my otherwise unremarkable life. But honestly - fuck you guys. May your genitals be infested with the crabs of a thousand Aguileras.

I'm just saying.

Keep on truckin',

Brendan

Oh daylight savings time. You little sleep-depriving whore, you. I know at some point I'll be grateful for that extra hour of daylight in the afternoon to kick up the serotonin levels in my medula whosawhatsita. But for now I'm bushy-tailed at bedtime and downright homicidal when my alarm goes off. Not a pretty scene. Let's get it in gear, circadian rhythms!

In other news, reports back from the latest Rationales show (the main project of Brendan Boogie Band guitarist Dave Mirabella) is that their new 5-piece arrangement is at least 20% sexier. I can tell you from first-ear experience that their new record is wicked awesome, especially the songs featuring my high-pitched girlsqueals on background vocals. As soon as I have news on their CD release show, I will pass it on to you, once again making The Scene obselete.

Speaking of rock and roll shows, do you think it's too early to start promoting the Brawlston in Allston - the March 22 Saturday night Brendan Boogie Band show at O'Brien's in Allston with The Mystery Tramps and Soap Stars? Yeah, me too.

A few reminders:

- Don't forget to set your clocks ahead this weekend. It's a good thing because you lose an hour of sleep! Because you know what I've been thinking? "I'm getting WAY too much restful sleep these days. What can we do to shake things up a little, maybe make me a little crankier?" First the Leap Day, now this. Get it together, nature.

- The Brawlston in Allston is only 15 days away! The full-out show pimp won't start for another week or so, but you should put it on your calendars. It's going to be a rocker.

- This one's just for my old landlord: I don't live at that apartment anymore! I haven't lived there since August. Your late night phone calls about sending the plumber over and my lack of sidewalk snow shoveling need to stop. How is it you have more money than me?

- You are so beautiful to me. You're everything I hoped for. You're everything I need.

Have a good weekend, rabbits.

And now, the exciting conclusion of yesterday's... Tale of Interest!

Tuesday AM - I walk into my local Nissan dealership and loudly exclaim "Who wants to make some money today?" You should have seen them jump to attention.

For those of you long-time readers, you may remember last summer I got in a little brouhaha involving another car, a ran red light, and me nearly spinning headlong into a local Domino's pizza franchise. If you're paying a lot of attention, you also may remember from another journal entry that my rental car was a Nissan Versa. Me likey very much. I didn't think I'd be in the market for a new car so suddenly, but the option of throwing three grand toward the Saturn was just too much to bear. It was Nissan time.

I laid out what I wanted to pay. They were completely up for it... except for the trade-in value of the Saturn. I quoted blue book value. They tried to stop themselves from laughing in my face. After spending $1100 on the lucifer car over the past three weeks, I only got $1100 back on the trade-in. But most importantly, they took it away from me, never to be seen or heard from again. The salesman actually said a Latin prayer over the car. I'm not even joking.

So now I am the happy owner of a monthly car payment. Oh, and a Nissan Versa. I actually like it a lot. Got to give it up to the Japanese. They're good at making cars and throwing gyroballs.

If anyone wants to joyride with me in my new car, let me know and we'll set something up. Note: the admission price is that I get second base on you. Them's the car rules.

I'm also opening the floor for suggestions for car names. All I've come up so far is "Dice-Kar." Not good.

Oh boy did I have some adventures in automotivicity this weekend. Here's how the dope went down:

- Friday AM: During my interminable morning commute, my Saturn (with only 58,111 miles on it, by the by) started shaking, sputtering, and generally giving me the vehicular version of a giant "F U." Just as a reminder, I threw $850 toward new brakes on this car just a week ago. Now, the brand new brakes were doing nothing to stop this devil woman whore car from flashing the "Get the Fucking Engine Serviced Now, Honkey!" light at my annoyed gridlocked-on-93 ass. Needless to say, it was a good morning.

- Saturday AM: Just to start off cheapest, I brought the awful car into a quick lube place to have the oil changed, filters and PVC valve replaced, transmission flushed, and fuel injection treated. Cost: $200.

The best part of the whole experience was when the lube jockeys kept calling each other over and saying "Yo yo - check this out!" Then three of them would gather around my engine and say "Oh my GOD!" Apparently, it was in pretty bad shape. Then, one of them would ask me how many miles I had on the car. When I showed them of my odometer, they'd say "That's it?" and just shake their heads in sympathy. It was a real morale booster.

- Sunday AM: I drove the piece of shit car around my peaceful suburban berg in the vain hope that the vehicular Parkinson's would miraculously be cured. Shockingly, it wasn't.

- Monday AM: I drop the demon car off at my local mechanic for further diagnosis. A few hours later, I get a phone call and have the following fantastic conversation:

Me: What's the deal?
Mechanic: You need a new engine.
Me: What? There's only 58,000 miles on it!
Mechanic: That's it?
Me: How much is this going to cost me?
Mechanic: $1800 used, $3000 new.
Me: Is the car near you? I'd like to speak to it.
Mechanic: What?
Me: Just hold up the phone to the car.
Mechanic: Uh... ok.
Me: I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU, YOU SOUL-SUCKING BUSH-VOTING SATAN SPAWN!!!
Mechanic: You're talking to the car, right?

So I needed a new engine. What's a poor boy to do?

You read it! You can't unread it! Stay tuned tomorrow for part two of... Tales of Interest!

And... we're into March. Spring training has begun and the slow, seemingly endless death trod to nicer weather begins. We can make it through together, compatriots. The sun will come out eventually.

You know what will lift your spirits? A rare Monday night out! I've got just the thing for your tuckuses: the Nate Diggity Variety Show and Beard Exhibit tonight at the Abbey Lounge on Beacon Street in Somerville.

Here's how it works - Andy from Baker performs solo acoustic on the pub stage. Shortly afterward, Conan from Baker performs solo acoustic as well. Then, they oil up and fight like the saucy little mynxes they are. The smart money's on Andy - he's not afraid to use his nails.

Then, the atrociously bearded portion of the evening begins with some melancholy power pop from Scamper's own Nate Rogers. He's been toiling away in the lab and has himself a handful of new tunes and a faceful of scruff. He is no one to be trifled with and that's all you need to know.

Finally, the great Jon Gorey closes out the evening. A pub night without Jon Gorey is like a BM without the stink. Sure, it still feels good, but there's something's just not right and you should probably consult your physician. Although I haven't seen him in a few, Mr. Gorey has been known to sport a beard or two in his day, so I wouldn't be surprised if he gives Nate a run for it in the crumb catcher competition.

The best thing of all - the night is completely free! Your funds will be freed up to buy me a drink to butter me up for that loan you've been trying to convince me to co-sign. See you tonight, freeloaders!