The following opinions were gathered from a wide array of famous and nonfamous individuals who have inspired me. Some know me personally, some don’t. Some will never know how they’ve touched my life through what they do.

Thank you to those who testified on my behalf. And to those who didn’t, eat a hot bowl of dick. I’m going to list everyone whom I wanted to hear from, because all of you who aren’t in this business called entertainment need to know how much bullshit goes on. There are concentric circles of publicists, managers, agents, and little people with big egos who have nothing better to do than cock-block to feel important. We asked everyone on this list to offer between one and one hundred words that came to mind when they heard my name. The excuses you’ll read about why their client wasn’t available are retarded! It’s comedy to me, so I’ve included all of it, with my comments, for your reading pleasure.

Trent Reznor: Tommy is the definition of a fucking rock star. Charismatic, charming, volatile, somebody you want to invite over but might stain your carpet, a great guy and a fucking great drummer.

Pink: Tommy Lee is one of the fuckin’ hottest musicians left. He’s managed to stay above the tides; he’s an awesome fuckin’ drummer...and he’s hot.

Check this out, people. Here is a direct transcript of a conversation between my writer, Anthony, and Mike Tyson’s secretary, who he said sounded like she had been enjoying the senior citizen discount at the movies for years now.

Larry King: Tommy Lee is an American rock legend. He’s highly talented, always controversial, and there is no doubt you pay attention when he enters a room. The real question is, Would he bother using the door?

Pharrell Williams of the Neptunes and N.E.R.D.: He’s a great drummer with a lot of style. He keeps his chops up in terms of technique and his style in drumming; his chops are very sharp. Also, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” can be played in the middle of any hip-hop party. I love that.

I’d like to apologize for meeting Steve-O from Jackass when he was an impressionable eleven-year-old. When I see footage of him snorting wasabi, blowing chunks, or regurgitating a goldfish, I feel guilty and somewhat responsible for creating this monster. Without further ado, here’s Steve-O:

I was eleven when I got my first Mötley Crüe album and it seems like, ever since then, I’ve had a major fascination with “sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.” When I was twelve, I had my walls covered strictly with Mötley Crüe posters and I devoted art projects at school to re-creating Mötley Crüe logos. I was thirteen when the Crüe came to my town (Toronto at the time) on the Girls, Girls, Girls tour, and, the day before the concert at Maple Leaf Gardens, I saw on the news that the band was in town and had gotten into some sort of trouble. It immediately occurred to me that they must be staying in a hotel, since the concert wasn’t until the next day. I decided to find out what hotel they were at. I figured that the band members wouldn’t check in under their own names (assumed or given) and guessed that they would check in under the name of their manager. A check of every album sleeve revealed only one name for their manager and no separate names for a tour manager. The name was Doc McGhee and, as soon as I knew that, I began to call every hotel in the yellow pages, starting from the very top of the list. My mom was in the kitchen, where I sat on the phone, and she was complaining that I was tying up the phone line too long. My father was watching a football game in the living room, but he had never seen his son so motivated and committed to accomplish anything, so he told my mom to back off and let me continue my mission. I sat there calling hotels for, literally, hours. It turned out to be a number at the bottom of the pages-long list that patched me through. This guy answered the phone and I asked if he was Doc McGhee. He told me that he was Doc’s brother, Scott, and before he could say anything else I blurted out, “As in Mötley Crüe!?!” Slightly frustrated, Scott asked me how I got the number. I explained to him what I had done, I truly sounded like a little girl on the phone, being that I hadn’t even hit puberty yet. When I got done telling Scott what I did, he told me that the Crüe had taken a bus to Ottawa for that night’s show and that he was impressed by my initiative. About the Maple Leaf Gardens show, he asked, “How’d you like it if I put your name on the list for a couple backstage passes and tickets? I can get you in the fifth row.” There’s no explaining how stoked I was at that point. That was October 24, 1987.

My dad wouldn’t normally have been so proud to take me to a heavy metal concert, but for the passion of my efforts that got us there, he really was and that made me feel great. When we got there, we waited in line with all these photographers and reporters for our passes—it was awesome. Sure enough, I was on the list and we got everything Scott had promised. The concert was rad. I especially liked the beginning of the drum solo with the cool drum kit, when Tommy Lee’s beats were timed with Nikki Sixx’s gulps of Jack Daniel’s. Nikki drank like fuckin’ half the bottle and poured the other half on the crowd; it was so rad.

After the encore, the arena emptied quickly, but I wasn’t going anywhere. My dad and I had to wait for a while to be allowed backstage but when we were, Nikki Sixx was one of the first people I saw. Maybe they told him there was an extra stoked kid he should talk to, because it seemed like he came straight to me. I talked to him for a minute, got a couple of autographs, and my dad took a picture of us. Then I saw Tommy Lee and he seemed as stoked as I was, he hung out with me for a while, even after signing autographs and taking a photo. It was the best. We hung out with Scott McGhee too. My dad and I were actually the last people to leave. Vince Neil walked out of a private room and right past us, without a word, right before we left.

The next day I got sent home from school to change my Mötley Crüe concert shirt; I was proud of that. I was proud of everything about meeting Mötley Crüe. There wasn’t anything I really wanted to ask or say to them, but meeting them changed my life forever. It sounds gay, but meeting Mötley Crüe taught me that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. It doesn’t matter what you want, it simply matters how fuckin’ bad you want it and that you never stop going for it until you have it.

Tommy,

Thanks for asking me to give a testimonial for your book. We met in 1987 and it changed my life forever. I always say, “Mötley Crüe isn’t a sound, it’s an attitude.” You were my hero because you behaved horribly badly, not because you’re a great drummer. One night, when I was out on bail and facing eight years in prison, I was doing tons of cocaine, alone, and I amused myself by trying to track you down again. I posted a message on your message board or something and you wound up writing back to me. That was really fucking cool too. You could honestly say that I was contacting you for advice on my felony charges, but really I just wanted to get my mind off of them. You wrote me back and told me, “Dude, you’re in almost as much trouble as I’ve been in.” And that was the most rad email ever. I wrote you back with, “I don’t know if that makes me feel better, or worse, but thanks man!” Since then, every time either of us has done something really funny, we’ve emailed each other about it and that’s really rad too. That’s about all I can give testimony about—let’s get off our asses and film some legendary shit together so we can write more cool shit. Thanks bro,

The following opinions were gathered in various Los Angeles locales, from Hollyweird to Malibu. The names have not been changed at the request of the lesbians.

Catherine: I thought Tommy seemed really sweet and tonight I met him and now I know he’s really sweet. He just acts like a little boy. You know, he jumps up and down and he gets excited about everything. That innocence is fucking hot as hell. It’s like he’s a little baby, as wild as he is. It helps that he’s adorable, but the hotness is way more about the way he is.

Lenny: Tommy Lee is so fine that I want to be him. I want to be him because if I were him, I would get all his chicks. He keeps it sensitive and he rocks, and since he’s a drummer he has that, like, math brain. He is superhot and sexy with his little shirts and his man muscles. And he’s got a sweet, sincere smile to go with his realness. I love him, and later tonight when I fuck my girlfriend I’m going to make her call me Tommy. I’m going to call my girl Pamela, Mayte, or whoever he’s with. Fuck it, I’ll call her all of them.

Lenny’s girlfriend: I’ll be whoever you want, baby. Why don’t you just say, “What’s your name again?” Then we’ll switch. I’ve got to be Tommy too.

Lenny: Fuck yeah, it will be good. My turn to be the bitch.

Jozie:* Here’s the thing. I’m a man-hating lesbian but I love Tommy Lee. He really should feel very excited to know that. He’s got amazing tattoos and his little nipples are pierced. I get angry because guys don’t hold up the same degree of personal hygiene that girls do. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that Tommy shaves his arms, which is very, very hot. That wins him many, many points. Tommy’s got hair on his head and not on his back. That’s cool—that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Tommy: I like to keep it where it’s welcome.

Don’t worry, I’ve saved the best for last. Here they are, my best friends, the elusive and way too cool, including the answers, if any, that were given by their representatives in response to our request.

Lenny Kravitz