Sunny Skies. Shady People.

How dare Randy Jackson talk badly about a song written by the great Michael McDonald! He better shut the fuck up before I put my foot up his fat, Ebonics talking ass. Jerk.

MMcD's writing made the Doobie Brothers into what they are known for today and for dumb ass Randy Jackson to say it was not a good song choice just riles me up. Say the performance wasn't good; but Long Train Running' is a great song. Loser.

I don't even know why I bother watching American Idol anymore. It's a horrible popularity contest. And the only person who makes any worthwhile comments gets ignored, booed, challenged or all of the above; simply because he chose to tell the truth and not sugar coat shit. I don't even understand why people think the comments Paula makes are valuable. Do they not understand the chick is ALWAYS blasted out of her mind? Sometimes I doubt she knows where she is. (Maybe she needs John Stewart to remind her every 15 minutes.)

Geez.

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Earlier today, all of South Florida lost power. Well at least all of Miami, and parts of Broward County (Ft. Lauderdale area). There was nothing for a little over an hour. And even know, the power company hasn't completely revealed what exactly happened.

So my office, we all basically stopped working and talked shit for the hour. When the lights popped back on, our supervisor was all, "This is great. Now we can have our meeting!" As soon as she said meeting, the lights shut back off. We laughed at her and prayed that they remained off. That only lasted 15 minutes. And then our hour long meeting turned into 2.5 hour meeting. Bastards.

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I'm currently sporting a lovely bruise on about 1/2 of my neck. Or at least that's what I tell people if they ask.

Basically, my neck was attacked by an overly drunk booty call (at 4:30 am Sunday morning!).

It's funny, because in the past week and a half, two people basically told me I needed to get laid. But, I've been getting laid pretty consistently, except for the months of December and January - I don't think I was interested in it, what with being depressed and all.

Anyway, I came out of that little (3 hour) session with several bruises, a demolished room, and broken strands. What is it with guys wanting to pull hair? It is NOT sexy. All I could think was, "my hair is thin; I don't need more split ends."

There was also an interesting sequence there when Drunk Ass thought he was having sex with me but was really having sex with the bed. For like a good 15 minutes. For the first few minutes, I was like, "Are you kidding me with this shit?" But I decided it was a good thing because I've been on the receiving end of that whiskey dick several times, and it usually involves me getting pounded for what seems like forever. Like that night. So the break was well deserved.

And hey, he seemed to enjoy it just fine. Loser. It made me laugh though, a lot. I'm such a dick. And I love it.