Exile from Cyberia

My hard drive is a fried egg. Today I turned on my computer only to see a little folder with the mac face on it: inappropriate! This is the fourth time I've been thrust back into the stone age since buying my iBook laptop two years ago. I guess I'll have to stop playing laptop baseball.

Today I'm headed to the studio to partake of the drums that Dave Johnstone laid down on "My Addiction", the song that I recorded two weeks ago. Thanks to the wonders of the internets, Dave received the MP3 of the song in question via email, then recorded the song in the comfort of his home studio and uploaded the drum tracks to a website from whence I shall download it and import it into the original session. I live about ten miles from Dave, but he could just as easily be in Siberia (or Cyberia, if you prefer).

My hands get sweaty when I realize that tonight is the night for Brandon to whoop that ass on American Idol. Get ready to vote!!!!! I'm considering inducing a ten hour coma, but instead I'll drive to Pasadena to get my dang computer fixed.

Lamar Odom is injured again and Luke Walton is still out. They're wisely considering defrosting Scottie Pippen and maybe Rip Van Winkle too. It's a dangerous time to be a Laker.

I'm looking at the headline "Spurs win sloppy game with Clippers". I was there. Did you see me on TV? I was wearing that same sweatshirt from my time in the audience on Idol, only this time I wasn't nervous or freezing cold. I'm totally "Where's Waldo" in this piece. Thank you Farfel, for the tix. Thank you Victor, for the stiff Margaritas. Next I need to work in a guest spot on Grey's Anatomy and start a fist fight with Isaiah Washington. Perhaps I could be the referee for "Celebrity Republican Career-Death-boxing" on the Ann Coulter vs. Scooter Libby episode. Where's my agent? Who's my agent?!