Current mood:	anxious
Current music:	New Kids on the Block f. Lady Gaga "Big Girl Now" (fuck.)

1 billion (erection-deficient robots) served
I imagine the once-unstoppable Deadjournal corporation is selling out, because Viagra ads HAVE STAMPEDED MY COMMENTS SECTION. So much erectile dysfunction info. So many ad-plastering bots. The Viagra-sponsored chaos is unhinged! Have you ever visited Pamplona? Running of the bulls? See my last entry's comment box to witness how it appears in person, except with droopy peens hurtling through the proceedings.

A little advertisement once in awhile isn't so bad, but excuse me: 12,000 comments on the last entry? That all say the same thing? Whoever programmed these ad bots needs to quit snacking on the methamphetamine-edition Pizza Rolls.

Picture the disappointment on child-star Louis Virtel's face when he realized none of the 12,000 comments came from, you know, live organisms. Believe me, at first I thought I acquired a thundering army of fans, all raring to comment about important topics like my joblessness or curvaceous figure. Unfuckingfortunately, I only acquired a brigade of Bob Dole dick-disciple bots. Frankly, I take what I can get in the fame department, y'all. This following will have to do. Onward, crusaders of fair Flaccidia!

Tonight I review the hot-'n-haggard NKOTB's (New Kids on the Block, duh) comeback album for advocate.com, which is exciting news if you are... an extremely old kid on a block that everyone forgot about in 1994. This one's definitely for you. I also plan on reviewing Olivia Newton-John's new album (and face), as well as the Pussycat Dolls' latest collection of poon squeals. Tell me I'm not the only one who thought their new song said, "I wanna see the world / wanna drive cars / wanna have boobies." Turns out it's "groupies," though I think the production puppeteers obscured it on purpose for their wishful-prepubescent-girl demographic. Really, the "groupies" line only makes the song less attractive to drag queens, which of course infuriates me. If Hedda Lettuce isn't singing this shit into a megaphone made of dildos, I don't want anything to do with it.

September's here, and that means... yep, 793 more weeks of nothing for me! (High-five.) Unless, you know, jobs come through, I move somewhere, monkeys fly out of my ass, etc. My gym membership also expired -- quite awhile ago, actually -- so I don't even have paltry bicep improvements to titillate me between marathon sessions of talking to myself. Nope, it's just me, Netflix, my three (or so?) bitches in Lemont, and my fast-expanding death wish all enjoying the view. This is a comfortable existence until I go for that grown-up self-sufficience tripe. I told Sarah Geoghegan I may apply for grad school at LHS. I need to flesh out my thesis proposal, but I envision heart-rate monitors and Coneset's monstrous purple polo coming into play. P.S. Don't steal my ideas, I'll be so mad.

Well, it's 1:24 a.m., so I think I better start writing the NKOTB review. I just suffered through their abysmal song with Akon called "Put it on My Tab." Akon never really leaves the bar, does he? Apparently Senegal is a countrywide VIP room. Oh, don't worry, a song called "Sexify My Love" just began. But that's not a very encouraging tune for my new, impotent fanbase. Forget I mentioned it, boiz! Get back to exploring your feelings in poetry.

Last but not least: www.advocategenq.com

I update "Letters to Louis" tomorrow. The homos threw shit at me a couple letters ago, so I need to make it up to them. I'll try for hotness anyway.

Wuv.
-L