Well itsh been a whirlwind of press and photogs as of late. My co-workers and I are nearly deaf from this whole ordeal and some days itsh really tough to stay awake. The ringing in my head is killer man. What? Yeah, ringing in my head. I love some of the people we see though, speshally the young men. Did you see that nice black boy last Wednesday? And his voice. He moved me. To tears. Again.
Plus? He. wash. sho. hot.
So there’sh this video on YouTube showing a clip of me on National T.V., being interviewed and everyone ish shaying I’m drunk. What the heck? I’m on painkillersh. Sheesh. You would think people would know the differencesh by now.
Shome of the people that come in are pretty frikken crazy. There was this one douchebag that came in with her mother and they both looked exactly the same except for their hair. It was insanity, man. Total insanity. The daughter had blonde hair that looked like she had chopped it off with a freaking Flowbie or shomething and the mother looked like she hadn’t conditioned her dark hair in like, 3 yearsh, man. Man, it was whack. As whack as my slang vocab from 1989. Hey, 1989 was like the last time I cool, so like, sue me, man.
Anyway, both mother and daughter were all like, “We’ve never heard of a flat iron,” and the daughter totally thought she could sing. If I had a dollar for every person that ‘thought’ they could sing, I’d be richer than when Straight Up was #1.
What killed my buzz was when thish chick started shinging that bloody Pusshycat Dolls shong, “Don’t cha?” ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?
Sheeing this chick belt out “Don’tcha wish your girlfriend wash hot like me?” CRACKED. ME. RIGHT. UP. MAN. I was literally dying. The only thing holding me back from laughing was the complete buzz-kill, followed by nausea. If I laughed, I’m sure I would have puked on National T.V. and I couldn’t handle that all over again with the British Nanny saying things like, “Oh bollocks, not AGAIN,” and “For goodness sakes sweetheart, can’t you control yourself?” and “Your straw is up your nose dearie.” He is SO judgmental. I KNOW we’re judges, but not for each other. Sheesh, man. He needs to lay off, or move that other show, Shupernanny or shomething.
It hurts me inside when he says stuff like that, because then Randy just tries to defend me in his stupid, stupid way, with his stupid, stupid, crap about “Awww c’mon Dawg, she’s just doin’ her thing,” and “The bile was a little pitchy honey, but you were just doin’ your thing Dawg, it’s all good,” which totally makes me wanna barf again, man.
Sometimes this gig isn’t worth it, but man, it’s all I got for a career. WhatcanIshay?
You know, I alscho wanted to say that YOU move me. All of you AmericaMidol Fansh. Move me like Randy’s bowels move after his morning coffee. It………brings……..I’m sorry, I’m a wee bit emotional right now, pleasesh bare with me.
SIMON!!!!!!!!!!! BRING. ME. MY. PILLS.
I’m trying really hard not to cry right now because then my mascara will drip into my corneas and then I could possibly become blind and then it would pain me not be able to see the wonderful singersh that come in front of me to worship me and love me. Gawd. I admire myself scho much right now because the mere fact that I can function with this much booze in my system, is truly amazing, not to mention the pills. SIMON!!!!!!!!!! WHERE. THE. HELL. ARE. MY PILLS? I ROCK. *hiccup*
Oh, I had another thought, although fleeting and it sometimes hurtsh my gray matter when I think too hard but it’s important, so I’d better just tell you. I often wet myself while we’re doing the auditions. I just think it would be rude of me to get up and interrupt when people are pouring their hearts out in front of us. Which reminds me, SIMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BRING. ME. MY. DEPENDS.
Oh, my cell phone just beeped. I got a text message from Emilio. I had texted him earlier to ask him if he wanted to meet for dinner. We used to be married you know. I went on the Dr. Phil show a few weeks ago, blubbering about not having a man and stuffsh and even the good ole’ doctor couldn’t fix me up. I figured I’d just take mattersh into my own handsh. Hmmmmmmmm, I’m not quite understanding his message………S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Is that an abbreva……….*hiccup*……..eeeaashion for something?
This post was written by the wonderful Karen Rani of Troll Baby. I’m honored to have been paired up with her, because, I mean, she’s awesome! Check out her blog, that’s where my post is hiding today. All of this was made possible by the incredible Kristen over at The Blog Exchange, go visit to see more fun posts! Ok, I promise I’m done with the hyperboles for today.