When I woke up this morning (I'm writing this on Thursday, by the way; who knows when you're reading it, but I hope you're at work and being really unproductive) I was pretty excited that the first bit of rumor-ish news I heard was that Vicky Becks might join the American Idol judgment roster. That was going to be enough to put a quick end to my mourning for the possibly fake-absence of Paula.
I was excited to tell you all about my favorite Shark Week stuff like Great White Appetite , sponsored by Febreze -- no joke, Febreze, because sharks will stink up your house and if you've got one just lying around you'll need to make it smell like chemical flowers pretty quickly -- where the host put himself in a clear cube as human bait for a big Jaws guy, kind of like if the ocean was Charles Saatchi's gallery and the human was a Bizarro World Damien Hirst installation for the giant fish's aesthetic amusement.
I wasn't going to spend much time on real ATL housewife NeNe choking equally real ATL housewife Kim(berleigh). I mean, I would have talked about it a little, like any important news item. But I wasn't going to labor over it. Same with those busted Twilight drag queens on America's Got Talent . And to that judge who told them that they weren't what America needed: You are wrong. America needs tons more busted drag queens. These busted drag queens just forgot to include exploding fake-blood packs in their routine, is all.