My 'hit', on Gwen Stefani

January 29, 10:33 PMDenver Live Music ExaminerWilliam Jiles

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For the duration of my middle and high school years I was plagued by No Doubt front woman and Japanese tween crusader, Gwen Stefani and her horrifying and often painful wardrobe implosions. Originally, when I was 12, my feelings weren't nearly as disgusted, but conversely, I looked up to the post pop-punk queen. With catchy teen anthems like "Just a Girl" and "Spiderwebs", Gwen and I shared all our love and cell phone screening problems like two girl scouts and until now, I never realized exactly how creepy that relationship was when one of us was 12 and the other 32. Eventually, I traded in my copy of Tragic Kingdom for a couple half-smoked Camel Wides and a ten dollar gift card to Hot Topic. All my memories of that braces wearing lunatic quickly faded away into lip rings and awkwardly long chunks of bang. I thought my embarrassing past was dead and buried. However, I was terribly, terribly mistaken. 
 
In 2004, as I was shopping for clearance Fubu apparel to wear to some pitiful 16+ club, I was attacked by what I assumed was some failing pop star screeching over a drum machine about sh** and bananas. I was right. Not only was I horrified, but I was petrified. It can't be her ... not again. The news was confirmed bu MTV and my hopeful Stefani-less fantasy-of-a-future began to transform into Harajuku Lover side bags and shimmery eye make up. Several years later, my ears were non-consensually penetrated by the classic song stylings of Gwen vomiting poorly written kitchen analogies in the song "Yummy", strangely named after it's tag line, "I am feeling yummy. From head ... to toe". For years after, it was constant nonsense since the Cd's 2006 release date. Stefani-Rossdale babies, the feared re-entry of Gavin Rossdale into society and even worse more music from Bush (or rather Institute).

Since I've been praying to so many gods and making the appropriateDDon't have to do drugs to be a trainwreck!

Since I've been praying to so many gods and making the appropriate animal sacrifices, I'm not exactly which one was able to knock Gwen out of my life, or if it was actually Ms. Stefani herself actually sitting down to read my barrage of letters sent to her over the years.
 
"G. Stef,
 
Please leave us alone, the song about marinating in your ex boyfriend's tepid waste or "Bathwater" is where I draw the line. I'm not sure if the USPS found the anthrax I covered this letter in, but please just end it now. G: Give it up.
 
Love Billy
 
PS. I'll never forgive you for creating so many graphic tees and coining the abbreviation Love.Angel.Music.Baby, which is punctuated in a really embarrassing and WRONG way."
 
Regardless of who put the hit out, thank you. Thank you God and Gwen. Although you've ruined very important pieces of the 8 years of my life and prevented me from every listening to the radio, I forgive you. Don't let it happen again. As Jay-Z says, what doesn't kill me makes me strong as iron and in my case, if you ever decide to make more music, I have a calcified pair of L.A.M.B. black and white striped tights with you neck's name written all over them. Strong as iron, iron, iron.
 
Also, Gwen, if you want to grab a box of magnetic poetry and write a little something about how many commas I use, or how long my sentences are: Bring it on.