Fug Me

Listen up, Debbie Harry. You rock. Truly, you do. We would call you any time. We could make plans to get together and talk all about your heart of glass and how high the tide is, perhaps over some beers and a game of darts.

But we would also need to discuss this:

[Photo: Splash News]

You don't need to work so hard to prove you're still bitchin', Debbie. It's innate. You once RAPPED, for God's sake. You, as Wayne would say in his world, can seriously wail. But you did not -- I pray -- just win the karaoke contest on All-You-Can-Eat Shrimp Night at the West Palm Beach Red Lobster by writhing around on the salad bar's sneeze guard to "Like a Virgin," causing handsy old Ed Bardwell to overdose on his heart medication because he thought it was Viagra. Ergo, there is absolutely no reason to deploy a lace bodystocking. That's just reckless. Please tuck that thing away and never bring it out again -- not even if, in about a month, I beg you to loan it to me because I've run out of Halloween costume ideas. I should never be that desperate, and for the love of all things rock and roll, nor should you.