Last night I met some Unicorns. One was Alden Ginger, the most Alden Gingerest man I've ever met. Another was J'aime (pronounced "Jay-mee") and the third was nameless but he wore a light pink hat and belt.

They were, of course, French-Canadian.

J'aime told me how one of the guys from The Stills (he wouldn't name names) went out with one of his friends and treated her badly, which is one of the reasons why they hate them and try to give them bad press. Which is pretty funny considering they're opening for this band at some of their American shows.

"Yeah well, you know," J'aime said sheepishly. "Our tour manager said it'd be good for us."

I had to ask the obligatory "Why the hell did you name your band The Unicorns?" question, to which he responded: "Well, the ladies love unicorns. Am I wrong or what?"

Well, he was right. And his answer would have smacked of Munster cheese if he hadn't been wearing the gayest-striped sweater I had ever seen, and if he hadn't been in a band called The Unicorns.

At one point, I cussed out their mascot/roadie (appropriately enough, in a frilly unicorn outfit), been propositioned to kiss the lead singer "because he had chocolate lip balm on," and told their drummer I could give his hair some highlights because that's what English majors are good for. And then I asked Alden Ginger if he would ever see a band called The Mini-Jugs. He said no, because he didn't like what they stood for.

Oh, snap.