The league of extraordinary Calendars

June 15


It’s a fact known only by Calendar’s most devout and operatic of followers: Before we got this sweet gig here at the newspaper, we were once an internationally renowned classical vocalist. Pavarati, Placido Domingo, The Fat Lady-they were all pebbles in the shadow of Calendar’s immeasurable aural prowess.

In fact, it was Calendar that started the group that later became known as The Three Tenors-back when we created the band, we were called Calendar and the Guidos, and we rocked. But then that power-hungry Luciano staged a coup, and since we knew that we were all the talent in the group, we didn’t try to fight it-we walked out and left them as the world’s lamest trio in our wake.

Well, turns out the carnivorous goats we sent to eat Luciano last year (we were drunk, there was this guy at the party who sold carnivorous goats, and it seemed like a good idea at the time…give us a break) didn’t accomplish their goal. Calendar guesses we’ll just have to head over to Suede (1612 Ute Blvd.) at 8:30 p.m. for $17 to finish Luciano ourselves. Our carnivorous goats may have failed us, but our poisonous parakeets are guaranteed!

Sigh…OK, so Calendar has a confession to make: We’re not the self-assured events listing we make ourselves out to be. We have feelings, and they get hurt easily-like a professional baseball player. That Luciano really did a number on us, what with taking over our band and all, and we guess we’ve never really gotten over the trauma. Maybe we love Luciano, who knows? All we will say is that Calendar wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming, “Luciano, we’re nothing without you! Calendar needs you like Lindsey Lohan needs a meal!” Oh Luciano, it’s true: Calendar is lost by ourselves-we’re nothing without you! Me Without You plays tonight at Kilby Court (741 S. 330 West) at 7 p.m., for $8.

If only Calendar could truly determine the root of our paralyzing self-doubt. We mean, it’s not like we haven’t tried: We went on all the talk shows, but it was no help-Oprah tried to eat our souls, Dr. Phil tried to condescend to us (until we told him he wasn’t a real doctor and nobody liked him, at which point he ran offstage crying) and Ricky Lake tried to sell our wristwatch for crack…she’s hard-up, you know.

Anyway, we’re down to our last options these days-we’ve hired a “Psychic Detective” tonight on NBC at 7 p.m. to help us, but if he can’t, we’re afraid we may be doomed to a fate worse than death.

June 16


What exactly is this supposed fate worse than death? There are several, actually: Licking envelopes until your tongue is lacerated like that dude in “Hellraiser,” being forced to actually watch the film “Hellraiser,” being forced to watch “Hellraiser” while licking envelopes…you get the point.

Even worse, however, might be going to The Velvet Room tonight (200 S. 155 West) at 7:30 p.m. to endure a reading of the Meat Beat Manifesto for $12.

The Meat Beat Manifesto, eh? Hey guys, you do realize your band name is a walking masturbation joke waiting to happen, right? You do? You still think it’s cool? Um, alright…

Don’t worry, Calendar won’t judge you-we’re a more tolerant Calendar than that. Plus, we love walking masturbation jokes-our ex-girlfriend is one. However, you ought to be advised not everyone in this cruel, cruel world is so forgiving. There is a good chance that, based only on how weak-ass your band name is, you may not make “The Cut,” tonight on CBS at 7 p.m., and you know what that means, right? It means you won’t be among the 15 remaining contestants fighting to pimp-out a Lincoln Navigator for hip-hip artist Fabolous.

Wait, for real? The show is about a bunch of dudes trying to impress a pseudo-celeb by degrading themselves to the level of submissive grease-bitch? Wow, and we thought Ricky Lake was desperate…