BS in My Space

So my dear folks let me tell you how pathetic I have become since last leaving you.

This spring I became an avid American Idol watcher. Loved it. Voted. Downloaded it. Turned into walking zombie.

My brain matter is now classified as mush. Perhaps I will go into the mushy-gushy self esteem lowering details later, but I know nobody wants to read that long of a post on a Monday morning, so I'll save you all a trip down pathetic lane.

Fast forward to May 31st.

The show is off the air. My mother and I are still debating the fine qualities of the two "Davids" and whether or not Jason Castro threw a big party the night he got voted off. He may have screwed up Mr. Tamborine Man, but at least he didn't have to sing the penguin song. I figured if he made it to the top three, Simon would make him sing "Hot For Teacher" or some other horrendous 80s rock anthem-- either that or "Uum Bop" by the Hansen brothers. I think Mr. Castro was one smart cookie if it was a calculated memory lasp.

Oh yes, it's May 31st and the show is off the air, the guest appearances are completed and I can no longer download Dolly Week off ITunes. What is a girl to do? Visit YouTube for pirated copies-- well of course. But it gets better.

Yes, I took to googling for the latest idol contestant information-- only to find out Jason Castro and the crowd have My Space accounts. I know what a shocker.


I clicked on the link faster than my 35-year-old brain could command my fingers to please act their age.

And then a very disturbing thing happened. The darn thing would not let me read his blog WTF? There was info to be read. Curious minds need to know-- how did he get to those dreads?

I tried to leave a nice little comment "You may have shot the Tamborine Man, but "I don't want to cry" "somewhere over the rainbow" because I'll be "daydreaming" about living "forever in blue jeans"as I'm "Traveling thru" on a "September Morn-- "hallelujah!"

Somebody please stop me.

Well nobody did. well, perhaps they tried. I couldn't leave my well thought-out comment. Only friends could leave comments. To become a friend, I had to get a My Space account and send out a friend request.

And I am so flipping ashamed to admit good sense didn't step in-- no I sent out a request saying "You didn't exactly have me at "Hello," but you had me the second you sang "What . . . a . .day for . ..daydream?"

And you know what? He actually let me be his friend.


I know, I know. I need help. I need your help. Get me through these post Idol days -- one step at a time. there is a world out there, a world where the presidential campaign is finally coming to a close, a world where my children are out of school and need someone to trap pollywogs with them. There is a blog and it needs some attention-- and maybe with a little help I'll forget about the dueling Davids and the dreadlocks and how super hot Michael Johns was before I remembered I'm 35 and this is only a TV show for crying out loud.

BTW you can all be "friends" on my MySpace (giggle-giggle) and join in the fun of feeling 16 again. I have one post and it will probably be my last at www.myspace.com/bsnspace.