LITTLE MISS SUNSHIT

I hate head colds. Despise 'em.

My throat's all sore, the roof of my mouth back by my throat is all sore. It hurts to swallow and I can't breathe without sounding like a horny moose plus I'm superdy duperdy pissy.

And my buhgina hurts too.

But hey ... it could be worse.

I could live in Mississippi.

I've only watched a handful of episodes in the past ... usually the first ones where they show all the awful singers and the finales.

But this year I have made the ultimate commitment to the Idol and declared that I will watch it from beginning to end.

I will find someone to root for and I will root my ass off in the comfort of my own home for this person.

I will be saddened when they will be prematurely cut from the competition and will then find a new person to root for.

And the ugly cycle of root cut root cut root cut will begin until the very end where I have two competitors to root for but must only pick one.

Then I will make the ultimate sacrifice by saying to my wife "Should we call in and vote? Or how do you text message? Should we text message? I don't know how to text message my vote. How do you do that?"

I will then let my Idol pick's chances be guided by the general public and while I won't actually cast a legitimate vote for this choice, I will still root them on in the end.

I hope they win.

I truly do.

Because I have Idol Fever.

And a head cold, goddammit.

Now it's up for best picture.

Guess what?

If it wins, I'll fucking riot.

I'll have my own little mini-riot once again in the comfort of my own home.

It didn't really suck.

But it has no business being nominated for an Oscar.

It's like if I shit on a plate and told you it was caviar.

And you said "I've never eaten caviar, but that looks an awful lot like shit."

And I'd say "Nope. It's caviar. Try some."

And you tried some and you gagged and said "Goddamn you you fucking crazy sonofabitch ... you shit on a plate and tried to tell me it was caviar!!"

And I said "Sorry. But that's caviar my friend."

And then I scurried off while you retched and tried to vomit up my shit.

It's not really like that.

I just thought it'd be funny to watch you eat my shit.

Since I've decided to jump on the Idol Bandwagon, there's another bandwagon that I thought I'd try to hoist my heavy assed frame on as well.

That being the Podcast bandwagon.

Podcasts always frightened me because I thought A) you had to have an iPod and B) I thought you had to pay for them.

I now have found out that both of these myths in my head were wrong.

Podcasts are free and you can listen to them on your computer or burn them on a CD or do whatever you want with them.

So I subscribed to like a dozen of them on iTunes.

And now I have about a dozen podcasts that I'll never get around to listening to because I'm too busy shitting on plates.

But the important thing is ... I made that all-important jump into the 21st century and downloaded some podcasts.

Go me!

Oops!

The wife and son just got up and I have to go talk to them!!

See ya!!