BUI (Blogging Under the Influence)

Beau's at a work thang tonight that I wasn't invited to so I spent the evening getting into the Portuguese wine that Mrs. First Floor brought me for watching her adorable dog earlier this week. Then I accidentally stumbled face first into four or five rumndietcokes. Whoops! Sorry Friday morning! Anyway, here are some important notes that my brain made during the course of these events:

- Stephen Colbert is a poignant blinker.

- iTunes says I played Coldplay's Viva la Vida 17 times. Since I remember looping it while dancing around the apartment, that means it was on for a little over an hour ... straight.

- Misappropriation of Bon Jovi songs as pertains to So You Think You Can Dance. OK, so that's not a sentence. They still misused Bon Jovi for a shitty dance routine. And yes, I AM the Bon Jovi police. I'm from Jersey. He's all we have.

- What is this receipt from Amazon? I bought Under the Tuscan Sun???? Really? Well, it's about time. Man, that movie is awesome.

- I know exactly why Jordan Sparks is a failure: she's like watching an after school special in motion. Don't you make hand gestures at me in the shape of a heart while making horribly written love metaphors. That makes you lamer than the kid i saw on the subway today that had a tattoo of "freaks are born into their own tragedy" on his arm (PS punk: you'll regret that in like three years MAX. I speak from experience. Just a heads up). And also don't underestimate the power of Kelly Clarkson. You can't just win American Idol and BE HER. She is a mystical force of nature.

- Why am I never this sexy when I'm dancing sober? Being sloppy drunk makes me sexified? OK. That sounds about right. Maybe i should start drinking more.

- I'm mad at my landlord for being a douchebag. He told me that I can't have a dog because it would be too loud on the hardwood floors above his apartment... and then he had his friend over for the evening... and his friend's dog... that spent two hours howling. But that's OK. I didn't hear much of the howling after the first half hour because I found the raunchiest gay porn I could on the Internet and blasted it through the open window. I mean during Coldplay breaks.