Caterwauling

That hoe-biscuit Antonella Barba is still on “American Idol.” Seriously!

Paula Abdul looks drugged, as usual. As I remarked to my new-favorite TV-watching buddy, “Paula makes Anna Nicole look lucid. And, for that matter, alive.”

The markets went down like that ‘ho Antonella Barba today. And that’s an achievement!

So apparently the Antoiletta Antwatella Antonella Barba blowjob pix are fake. Hey, I figured the vacant look on the “throaty” contestant matched the same one I see on my 32″ TV screen, so whatevuh.

I figured she must be as bad at blowjobs as she is at belting out Aerosmith songs, because done right, the recipient wouldn’t have the presence of mind to reach for a camera.

Oh, and was it me or did the mosaic over the boy’s pee-pee (seriously, it was child-size) look bigger than the wand itself? And that sure as hell ain’t sayin’ much. One would think he’d keep his short-dick pics to himself!

I wonder whether she’ll be in the “Dawg Pound” on “American Idol” tonight, as the boys will be singing and the girls will be sitting there, sweating it out. Someone called the radio station yesterday and said they saw Antwatella getting on the Metro at the National Airport stop, but I doubt “Idol” would let her go home without a press release hitting the airwaves first.

In any event, I’m not sure whether I pity her more for having a rotten ex-boyfriend who released all those pix, or whether I should feel sorrier for her for that god-awful singing voice.

Speaking of crotches, I ordered a pair of pants from an online Web site. I just got the bill for 80 friggin’ dollars. Jesus H. I didn’t look at the price when I did my one-click ordering. Hot damn, they’d better come with a built-in vibrating tongue, for all THAT. Fuckin’ shipping and handling — shit, for what they charged, that tongue had better arrive attached to a MAN!

Sabre and I were just speaking of the need to indulge in a big cup of shut-the-fuck-up (i.e., if you don’t have anything nice to say, and all that jazz), but why us? Why can’t we give a double-shot of it to those who need it most?

I went to drop off my application this weekend at the mediocre-dream apartment, but I parked outside the rental office and could not take my ass out of the car to save my life. I had an application, savings and checking account information, pay stubs and blood and urine samples (theoretically) and I just couldn’t do it — I still have the stuff in my bag. So, I went back to my own building’s management and cussed a blue streak over their inability to call a girl back after a dozen tries.

I was particularly pissed because the unit that opened up next to mine (that I REQUESTED) sat vacant for a month; now a mother with two young kids is in it. I failed to see where that’s a better tenant, but whatever. Their loss. I did take some price quotes down, and promptly left. I enjoy telling people they suck … my cup o’ shut-the-fuck-up was clearly leaking!

The mother on the other side of her locked out her kid (again). Usually she locks out the girl, but this time it’s the boy. (Did I mention that it’s a one-bedroom-plus den?) And a kid is usually always pounding to be let back in, and I think all the other tenants within earshot have had it with them, as we all yelled at the boy to shut up already.

I know it’s not his fault, but seriously, I am so ready to move, I can taste it. It’s a BLESSING that I didn’t get the unit in between us!

I have decided to just live on the street. M Street, but the street nonetheless. 😉

Why does Fergie feel the need to spell out the words in her songs? She’s not fuckin’ Akeelah and her damn spelling bee. I am not going to buy her CD, but if ever someone offers a mix full of all her outtakes as she spelled all the words wrong while reading the dictionary out loud, I’d be GLAD to pay for that!

A conversation that took place at Joe Allen’s restaurant in New York City:

Me: Holy shit with all these actor/waiters. Old ones, too. At what age do you finally just give up already when you haven’t yet made it?
Friend: That one should’ve given up when he looked in the mirror. Is it any wonder he’s still a waiter?

And one from right here at home:

Me: We just solved some technical issues but that doesn’t mean we’re actually progressing.
Friend: Grate.
Me: Grate? CHEESE!
Friend: Hungry?
Me: So many cheesy types ’round here, it’s no wonder!
Friend: Oh my!
Me: The cheesiest of the cheesy sure do ‘grate’ on us, eh?
Friend: Stop it — they’re ‘gouda’ guys!

Two thoughts for today:

1. Place A (in yesterday’s post about apartments) just called to tell me they’ll give me the month of March absolutely free and kick in a bay window with a view. Oh, and they’ll waive my application fee if I do it now.

2. To whom it concerns: SILENCE! I’m asking my higher power to help me to not hate you, you ignorant *****. But the ire, it rises. Increasingly.

There is little that irritates me more than people who request a “read receipt” on their e-mails. I open them, read them and keep them open till I can take action on them. Then the GD PC (I think “GDPC” should be in the dictionary) crashes and I lose the 45 open e-mails and they go unattended anyway. So, a fat lot of good it does you to know I actually opened what you sent!