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6:38 a.m. - 2005-05-05


I've been struggling with this for as long as I can without telling you guys.

At times I've thought "Go ahead and tell them" and then I think "But what about the repercussions?" and there I am ... knee deep in a quandry.

But I can't hold it in any longer.

So here you go.

And please ... don't judge me solely on this fact before you write me off permanently.

I ... shit ... this is hard ... I had a secret affair with Paula Abdul too.

It started off innocently enough. Paula started sending me emails saying how much she loved this diary.

I wrote her back and told her that I thought her sophomore album "Spellbound" was much better than any critic would lead you to believe.

She then started offering me advice on how to write my diary so I would be more successful in the online diary world.

This is an email she sent me back in 2001 ... verbatim.

"You need to use more "goddamns" and "motherfuckers". That's what people want to see in an online diary ... rampant curse words. Also, make up a lot of shit when you have nothing else to write about. Make up shit about running over small mice with lawn mowers or standing in line with a bunch of retarded kids at Burger King. Shit like that. And for God's sake ... start dressing better."

I took Paula's advice and immediately my life changed.

It was soon after that where the emails turned into late night phone calls and she'd force me to say things like "Straight up, I'm forever your girl, you cold hearted snake" over and over again while she masturbated herself to orgasm and then she'd hang up on me, leaving me feel cold and used.

In June, 2002, Paula flew to my hometown, rented a car (this was before "American Idol" became huge and she was still just a washed-up one hit wonder ... so no big fancy limos) and bang me silly while the wife was working long hours.

This lasted until I lost a award to Pork Tornado.

Then, the phone calls, the advice, the cross-country journeys for cheap, tawdry sex ended.

For all I know, she's banging Porky now.

I know that these allegations can rock Paula Abdul's world and possibly cause her to lose her job as the cheerful, drug-addled judge on "American Idol".

But dammit ... I have to be true to myself here.

I cannot live a lie anymore.

I've even written a poem about Paula.

It goes a little something like this:


Hey you curly haired loser on my TV screen,
I fucked Paula Abdul too.
You're not the only one to fuck a TV queen,
I fucked Paula Abdul too.
She wasn't the best I had ever had,
And I cannot say that she was all that bad,
Just thinking about it sometimes makes me sad,
Because I fucked Paula Abdul too.

I feel so much better now that I got that off my chest.

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