Texas Terry Takes Spain by Storm

So I said bon voyage to my favorite redhead, Texas Terri, who just flew a plane to Spain in the rain. Terri’s a big rock star in Spain. Her arrival’s front-page news in Barcelona. Spaniards. They really know how to treat a senorita. . . . Speaking of ladies, I couldn’t believe the A & R scene at the Pretty Ugly Club on Wednesday for the female-fronted rock band, Otep. I went to shake the singer’s hand after her gut-wrenching performance (picture Godzilla wrestling Papa Roach’s Coby Dick) but was blinded by the blue-green light of all those Motorola Timeports, as industry execs two-way messaged each other, “Ka-ching!”

Seriously, when Maverick honcho Guy Oseary walked into the party, its was like he was stepping on to a yacht. . . . Hey now, I watched Beauty Bar turn away Jesse Camp and his underage friends. I tried flashing down the former MTV VJ--who was clad like one of Dexys Midnight Runners--to suggest he try the Hotel Cafe across the street, but I got jabberwockied by a bum looking for the meaning of life. I tossed off something about doing what you do without stepping on other people’s toes and that seemed to placate him. . . . I popped across the street to say hey to the most cosmic man in Hollywood, Burgundy Room doorman Torrance Stonewall Jackson. You know, when you’re African American and your middle name is Stonewall, you’re simply born cosmic.

Found a cheesy pair of hot pink pants in time for Friday’s debut of Club Strut at the Cat Club, a new night of live karaoke. Found an even cheesier pair of red-hot Wranglers for Saturday’s two-year anniversary party for Club Make-Up at the El Rey Theatre. But the icing on the cheese is the Motochrist shirt I’m sporting on Monday to the Viper Room for a live set with Viva Ramones, Motochrist’s Ramones cover band. Tune in next week when we’ll go live from the brand new Latin Lounge to give you an update on Dennis Quaid’s newly single P.R. campaign. Pow-pow.