Rock Star

Every week Mig performs and I think, "Wow! Nobody will be any better." Mig is hot! That whole second skin low-rider striped pants thing he's got going on, shirtless under his jacket . . . what song is he even singing? I have no recollection . . . the man is just too gorgeous. Every week I think there is nobody I will like more than Mig . . .

And then Marty performs . . . and it's game over. JD says he wants to win more than anyone else, but Marty is the one totally going for it. Unplugged tonight. He is setting the bar. I go into the program totally prepared for Marty to disappoint me (how long can he keep this up?), especially after Mig blows my mind . . . by the time Marty performs I'm about ready to fall asleep, drowsy . . . he opens his mouth and I get goosebumps, EVERY time, goosebumps.

First the goosebumps and then I sit right up, poker straight, he has my attention. I remember his song. I remember the way he sung it. I remember everything -- what he said, what the judges said, how he looked, the way his hair hung in eyes. He's got that star magnetism in spades. He misses a note or two, who cares? Still don't know whether I want him to win this thing though and be stuck singing crappy INXS tunes fronting that band . . . he should just go make a record already, solo, do concerts . .. I can't believe I let myself get addicted to this show.

Mood: exhaustion setting in
Drinking: some kind of pop . . . i poured it so many hours ago, I no longer remember the brand . . . piss warm
Listening To: Dr. Hook
Hair: pulled back but coming loose, wisps hugging my jawline