I originally wanted to title this post: “The times they are a-changin’: the very drastic evolution of my celebrity crushes over the last 20-ish months” but it was a little long for Twitter, which has a very strict “No more than 140 characters” policy and which is where I intend to plug this post if I ever manage to finish it.
I’m really worried, you guys.
I have a celebrity crush.
But the scary part of it, is *whom* I have a celebrity crush on…
You better sit down for this…
…
…
Man. What a blast it’s been. Don’t you just love trying new stuff? Even if it’s stuff that you never wanted to try in the first place?
Well, this past weekend, I guess I came as close to experiencing cold turkey as I could, without becoming a junkie first. Cold sweats, achy muscles, bones, joints, achy everything really, fever, bad sleep, feeling like crap: check, check, check. Now, I can say that I REALLY get Trainspotting. Well, maybe not for that creepy baby crawling on the ceiling part. And although my toilet is looking pretty scary at the moment, it’s still not quite to the level of the worst toilet in Scotland.
Anyway, how was your Valentine’s day? Did you get laid? Did you get flowers? Chocolate? Victoria Secret lingerie? A glow-in-the-dark puke green dildo? Did you wait in line for 45 minutes outside a romantic restaurant, to finally get inside and wait twice as long for a green salad, while surrounded by a dozen other couples all yelling at the top of their lungs how much in love they are?
NOTE: I was trying to get on with last week’s “recap”, when, as usual, I went totally off-tangent. I originally started to write a “little” off-topic section in the middle of my “recap” (which isn’t finished, by the way). Then when I saw that this “little” OT section was turning into a full-blown post, I figured I might as well make it one.
OK, you guys, this is another whiny entry. Hit the road if you’re not in the mood.
This has been yet again, a shitty last few days, and again, instead of getting off my ass and facing reality, I’ve chosen to spend most of my days sitting in here, feeling depressed, wallowing in self-pity, and spending WAY too much time on the web, because it is such an easy escape. Which usually leads me to feel guilty about it, give myself a lot of shit for it, then end up feeling sorry for myself again, and do it all over again the next day.
Like computer crashes, for instance.
Yep, today, around 5pm, Moonshine (my computer) just fucking died on me and won’t restart.
Hard drive’s dead, I think.
Regardless, it’s a bummer, especially when you’re three “recaps” late.
Yesterday, everything was fine and dandy, until a drunken friend showed up and messed with some wires.
Quite possibly a coincidence, since Moonshine had been acting up for a bit, but nothing serious enough for me to, well, take seriously.
When my drunken friend showed up, I’d done my “recap” intro, my whining, and was almost done with Michael Australia (in writing, I mean), when BAM!, in the middle of a sentence, fucking Moonshine decides to restart. Continue reading
Ok, for tonight, screw chronology, logic, Idol, and the fact that it would have been nice if I had “recapped” the performances before the results show, but whatever. I’m fuming, man. I’m pissed.
I didn’t know I could get that pissed over Idol.
Michael Australia got kicked out you guys.
As you may have read in my previous entry, I didn’t take it too well.
Actually, I didn’t take it at all.
Ok, first of all, don’t expect a coherent recap tonight, not that my recap are coherent anyway, but today, I’m starting with the end.
And the end sucked, and it was a fucking scandal, and I fucking disagree with the whole damn thing, including Idol Gives Head.
If they, and their stupid inspirational-my-ass songs hadn’t showed up, My Aussie could have sang another Queen song and blown all of us out of the water. Yes.The water. I’m not in a joking mood tonight.
That was quite a shocker, and I did not see it coming at all.
After Tuesday’s shitty show, I gotta admit that I was totally stumped for my predictions; as in, I had no predictions, and had My David have to go sit his sweet ass on a bar stool, I honestly wouldn’t have been all that surprised.
And, even more honestly, I thought My David’s was actually more likely to have a trapdoor moment than Michael. In my opinion, Aussie Mike was actually better than my sexpot on Tuesday night.
But that’s by the by.
Oh yeah, one more thing: fuck you Ryan Seacrest. You were a complete fucking ass last night. Your little shtick? Not funny.
OK, I just re-watched the end of the show, and man, my mood ain’t improving. It’s gonna be real hard recapping this shit.
Maybe I should just do the whole thing in order. Starting with the end isn’t going to work, I don’t think.
You know what I think I will do? I will go back in time, pretend none of this ever happened, and I’ll do my usual happy, silly little recap. And then at the end, I’ll go off on a massive huge motherfucking rant.
So I invite you to stick around until my hypocritical stupid recap is up.
Until then, please join me in fuming, and blaming all the evils of the planet on Ryan fucking Seacrest.
Here is Michael’s elimination video.
That was not right, America.
That was NOT right.
Fuck you, America.
And go Michael. You’ll be missed.
Bye for now,
Rachel.
PS: Bummer.
Rebel Without A Clue
Rebel Without A Clue 
Recent Comments