Damn you, Florida. DAMN YOU. I knew. I knew, as soon as the word "Florida" was uttered.

Boooooooo.

Of course, I am referring to the results on American Idol. I like Ruben. A lot. But he's just too much of a Barry White/Luther Vandross/Peabo Bryson hybrid, perfect for lite radio.

"Adult contemporary", if you will. But my boy Clay, on the other hand, and I believe someone said this on the show tonight, is a modern day Frank Sinatra. Young Frank Sinatra, you know, the skinny geek boy that still found a way to make the girls swoon. Well, he did in all those old Warner Brothers cartoons I used to watch, But then again in the cartoons "Frankie" was usually some type of chicken that made Foghorn Leghorn jealous.

But I digress. Yeah. I am indeed embarrassed that I became so addicted to that show, but awwww, that boy can sing. Damn.

(I won't mention the fact that I tried voting every two minutes for three hours last night, but never once got through. But luckily, I live in a good state. Hahahahaha.)

ANYWAY, moving right along with my non-life, this afternoon I went and saw "The Matrix: Reloaded" again. Like with the first movie, I understood much more of it the second time around. Oh yes. But gotta love the theater here in Craptown- before the movie, as I was finding out the only two actors that have been in all six (I was only aware of five, haha) "Star Wars" movies, lo and behold, I hear a squeaking.

Oh yes. Goody. Mice, I thought. Well, as it turns out, one of the ceiling tiles next to the wall was slightly loose and a sliver of the outdoors could be seen. So I'm telling myself it was an unseen bird's nest, the residents of which I heard doing all the squeaking.

Riiiiiight.

Anyway, before the movie I sank to new levels of loserliness and ate in a sit-down restaurant by myself, hahahahaha. Granted it was merely my friendly neighborhood Pancake-or-Waffle Emporium, but still. I am a loser. A loser who wanted a BLT, bizznitches! HAHAHAHAHA. Oh god.

I came home and cleaned my room a bit! Wooooooo. A momentous day, postively rife with loserliness. Rife, I say!

Anywho, I should do something unprecedented like get the hell off the computer and go play flute. Because I guess I won't tell you that I dreamt last night that I turned on the answering machine to find a message from something like the director of the music school at the University of Somewhere saying that they didn't have room for me after all..... Yeah the flute teacher hasn't gotten back to me yet.

*big fat hairy sigh*

I need to stop being so selective in listening to well-meaning, good advice. Advice is advice, no matter whom it comes from, right?

So yeah. Enough silliness. Goodnight! :)

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