I know, I know, I haven't posted in over a week. Between work, school and getting through one painful leg day after another, I haven't had much time to do anything; ergo, I have no stories for you.

I do want to say, though, how much I abhor "American Idol." It's not that I'm surprised by its crass commercialization (really, is that a shock to anyone?). It's not even that I'm annoyed at their group performance of "Shout to the Lord" (imagine the backlash had one of the singers not wanted to participate: "What? You hate Jesus?!?"). What really, really got my panties in a bunch -- and not in a good way -- was Ryan Seacrest.

I've always had the suspicion that Seacrest didn't really give two sh*ts about those kids, that he'd sell them out for a stick of butter and two packs of Camel Lights. But he sunk to an all-new low last night: "Last year, we didn't eliminate anyone during Idol Gives Back week. This year..." he said, giving the contestants one last flicker of hope -- "...we say goodbye to Michael Johns."

What an ass! (Seacrest, not Johns.) And you know he enjoys it.

I know I'm getting too worked up over this. It's just a TV show, for crissakes. I know that. But all its cheesiness and craptasticness is not the contestants' fault. It's the show that's one big walking commercial for Coke and Ford. It's the show's producers who come up with those stupid themes, edit the clip packages and make the contestants do the group singalongs. The singers are just trying to live their dream and make it as musicians. Hey, if I could sing, I would have totally tried out for Idol in my 20s (which would have been, ahem, last year...). Last night just got to me, and not just because I had Johns in the office pool to take the whole thing. I can pretty much be sure I won't be winning that pool.

And for those who would say, "Why don't you just not watch it?" I'd say, you're right. So I won't be watching it anymore ... right after this season's over. Go Jason Castro!