ahh yes. Look at me. Reduced to updating at home on my OWN time and not the company's. Bastards. That's ok, I took a bunch of paper clips on my way out. I will bankrupt them by taking every paper clip I find home every day. Everyone needs an evil plot.
Last night after watching American Idle (not a miss-key an attempt at humor, yeah I know...) I wrestled the remote from the Sig Ot and started the typical male pattern channel surfing. I ran across another show on the WB, Superstar USA or something like that. Anyway I remembered someone that I read on D'Land (sorry can't remember who exactly) who raved about this, so I looked in for a bit.
YES! The anti-American Idle (notice the continued use of this failed joke, I'm quite a dead horse flogger sometimes)show! These people lie and tell horrible singers they are great and then will later reveal to them that they suck. Now this is a show that is more in line with my personality. And it has the lovely young lass who used to be in Eve's Plum on it. Yum, yum. And Tone Loc, not Yum mind you but coolness nonetheless. And some smart ass dude I liked pretty well with glasses. I fear I am late to this show but eh...
I am concerned by the use of too many exclamation points in this entry thus far. Especially considering the unexciting subject matter. Had I written for example...."and that was the exact moment Brittany Spears removed her top and asked me to go upstairs and make her a woman!!!!" ...see that might indeed deserve the !'s. But my god here I go with this kind of stuff..."and then I put a pop-tart in the toaster!!!". Something may in fact be wrong with me.
Did you miss me? There was a five minute delay between the last words and these as I had to perform the thrilling task of moving the sprinkler to the next spot on the yard in need of umm sprinkling. Gripping, non?
Alrighty then. This is the exact sort of loopy, dime store nonsense that spews from me after a long day of work. If I write at home this is what they will all be like. That's not good. My peak, if I have one, is the a.m. I am fresh from four hours of sleep or so and 40 cups of coffee. I'm on my game dagnabbit. Here, well it's the decline and fall of the Gutterpoet minute by minute. Let's pray that my communistputer is restored to all normal functions tomorrow. And I don't ask God for hardly anything anymore. Well just that one thing yesterday but I am sure I can live without fathering Josie Maran's children. If I have to.