Holy crap, I really DID go and break Coldplay up!

...reports deferred to rumors that the other three members of Coldplay were unhappy about the amount of attention directed at Martin...

Of course, "...and the fact that Chris Martin runs his mouth in solo interviews and then doesn't tell the other guys what he said, thus forcing Guy Berryman to be totally stumped when talking to Mysti" is the unspoken part, here.

Seriously, I'm like a curse. Are you really going to try and tell me that there's no connection to my raving about Love Monkey and its cancellation? I simply don't believe it.

At least there's something we can try and do about the show. I'm afraid the fate of Coldplay, however, will be subject to Chris Martin's whims. (When you consider that the man was crazy enough to name his child "Apple," though, it certainly doesn't inspire confidence.)

Okay, moving on.

I've been haunting The Veronicas for several months now in an effort to get them in-studio for the show. It's amazing just how far the annoyance factor will actually go these days. Nine times out of ten, if someone thinks they can shut me up for a consecutive five-minute stretch, they'll cater to me. Note the number of Click Five interviews on the PCC iPod page. Proof enough. And my tactics worked just as well on the Aussie twins, as I suspected they would. They dropped by, stayed for an entire show, and we had a gay old time. Hanging out with those two is always an adventure.

The Veronicas were at my radio station this past summer, a couple of months before anyone would know who they were, but because of my on-air hours, I was unable to meet them. I did, however, manage to catch a snippet of the broadcast where they performed live on the air, and I was blown away, to say the least - especially once I heard from the morning show that both were under five feet tall and maybe pushing 85 lbs. To think of such huge voices coming from the mouths of such tiny little creatures was fairly unfathomable.

It also occurred to me that my co-workers just might be exaggerating. Embellishment runs in wide rivers through my building. The people I work with are all full of...somethin'.

The first time that I came face to face with The Veronicas, though, I have a feeling that I might have ogled a little more than is socially acceptable. They were indeed miniscule. Gorgeous, but itty bitty. And not only were they aesthetically bewitching little pygmies, but holy hell, the mouths on these girls (which is what I attribute most of my gaping to)! Not that I've never heard curse words before - indeed, I even endorse the use of the harsher adjectives at times - but you, too, would be nonplussed to hear f-bombs being dropped right and left from these two innocent-looking sprites:



Look at them! Those are two of the sweetest little faces that you will ever in your life see, and the same sweet little faces that these two use to get in the door before they lay the verbal smackdown on your unsuspecting ass.

I was in Chicago at the time of our initial encounter, and the second that I entered their dressing room, I heard, "Oh my God, I am so f---ing hungry!"

I blinked, looked around the corner, and saw Veronica #1 - and more power to you if you can actually tell them apart - grinning at me. She extended one hand and covered her mouth with the other. "Hi! I'm sorry! My mouth is full!"

"No problem," I replied, wondering if what I'd heard before was more a figment of my imagination than anything.

"Oh, man, this chicken is so f---ing good," I heard from the other end of the room. I turned to find Veronica #2 standing there with a plateful of food. She laughed and gave me a friendly grin, identical to the one I'd received from her sister. "Oh, s--t, I'm sorry! I didn't realize anyone was in here! Hi!"

I was almost positive, then, that I'd stumbled into an alternate universe of some sort. For not only were these two miniature, child-like beings cursing up a storm, they were also eating enough food to sustain a small Third World country for several months. In the real world, metabolisms are just not that kind.

Do keep in mind that the information I'm giving you about The Veronicas should not distract from the fact that Lisa and Jess Origlasso are two of the loveliest human beings that you'll ever come across. They're genuinely kind-hearted girls, they have a beautiful and unfailing twin-ly affection for one another, and I have yet to hear them say anything remotely unkind about anyone.

It just so happens that all of that saccharine goodness is delivered with a multitude of s--ts and f--ks. This is what makes them additionally amusing.

From that first meeting on, I looked forward to interviewing them with a ridiculous amount of glee and anticipation. When my co-worker and I were shipped off to the Radio Music Awards, I was giddy in a rather hysterical sort of way when I saw their names on our interview list.

"Look!" I said, shaking him violently. "The Veronicas."

"You've met them before. What's the big deal?"

"They're so FUN."

"The Veronicas?!" he asked incredulously. I remembered then that the only time he'd been around the two girls was at our station's Christmas show, which they were forced to pull out of when Jess fell ill. They'd still shown at the venue, determined to do the meet and greets and sound check party appearances that they were scheduled for so as not to let down the fans, but obviously, they weren't anywhere close to their normal insane selves. It was all Jess could do to hold her head up, and Lisa had gone into protective sister mode, sticking by her laryngitis-stricken twin's side the entire night. "They seem sort of quiet."

I chuckled. "Brace yourself, naive boy," I whispered as Lisa and Jess approached our table.

At the RMAs, every interview table has a gimmick of some sort. It's how you coerce artists to come talk to your station. The gimmick doesn't have to be all that flashy or expensive, either. You would be surprised how far a few jolly ranchers will go at an event like that. So, we took it one further than the stations around us and provided a bucket full of an array of chocolate wonders - Reese's, Kit Kats, Tollhouse Brownie Bars, etc.

And condoms.

Yes, condoms.

Because, it's Vegas. Why not?

The Veronicas sat down and immediately dug in, plucking pieces of candy from the container, ripping the wrappers off with the kind of urgency an Ethiopian might display. My colleague looked at the two of them, slightly bewildered, which is about the time that the girls found the condoms.

"Trojans!" Jess shouted, extracting one of the packets and tearing into it.

"Mmmmmmmm," Lisa said with a prolonged sniff. "Smell that lubrication!" She spotted her boyfriend, Ryan Cabrera, a couple of tables over, and she began flinging rubbers at him with surprising accuracy. One hit him square in the over-styled head, and he whirled around to see where the offending item had come from.

My co-worker shook his head and leaned over. "Holy s--t," he whispered, "they're f---ing scary."

I patted him on the back, knowing full well from his sailor's response that he and the girls were kindred, and that we would all get along fantastically while writhing about in a completely non-sexual, but sloppy nonetheless, foul-mouthed love fest.

And we did.



Man, I f--king love those crazy girls.