I don't even recognize myself anymore.

I need to sit myself down and have a talk with... myself. Apparently. I actually just sent my own mother a text message that clearly stated, "WTF!"

No, it's not the text messaging that's a bother. It isn't the fact that I digitally sent an acronym to my mother that contains the word "fu--," well, you know. It's the fact that I sent it to her in response to results night of American Idol.

They didn't vote off - well, I'll wait and let you TiVo-ers watch it before I ruin it - but, they didn't send her home. And I don't like her. And instead, America voted the other girl off the show tonight. And, what? Why? Listen to me!

I am up in arms over American Idol. As if I watch it. And pay attention. And feel almost intrigued enough to dial "866-IDOLS-04" on my cell phone. See? I even know the number, oh God.

Since when do I watch American Idol? Last night, when I told The Fiance to turn on Fox at 7 p.m. so we could watch it, I think a piece of him died. He just looked at me. He even stopped chewing his General Tao's Chicken, and slowly - very slowly - handed me the remote. And then he walked away.

Remember when I used to read? Like, every waking moment of my life? What happened to that? My books? They're screaming. And I miss them so much. But I can't stop watching the TV. I can't. Between 24 and Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy and, apparently, American Idol, and back-to-back episodes of Law & Order every other night of the week, there's just NO TIME. No TIME for reading!

I am crying inside, I am. I even watched The Hills today on MTV. The Hills, people. The spin-off of Laguna Beach. And I missed Lauren (LC?) so much my soul smiled as I watched her traipse around design school, and fumble through her 21-year-old girl drama.

This is seven months of living within four (perfect, cat-climbing) walls without television coming back to bite me in the rear. Suddenly I can't do without. And now I like Paula Abdul...

Seacrest, out.

Oh, God...

krittabug