Dude. I’m tired, right? I’ve been depressed, the weather’s been doing that swing thing that always leaves me hurting and run down, and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. So I take a nap, wanting to actually be something resembling conscious later, as Entertainment Weekly claims that Joey will be on Last Call, and yes, I will endure Carson for that man. Apparently.

So tired, hot, upset me gets up at 1am after a four hour rest in hopes of a happy. The tape is in the VCR. I am peering blearily at the screen and hoping I don’t have it up so loud it will disturb the ‘rentals. I actually smile at Carson, because he is going to give me Joey, and thus, must surely be a nice, nice man. I should have remembered that he is vile, cruel demon spawn who’s only joy is to taunt us, and possibly piss off BSB fans with every passing Timberlake-encrusted moment of TRL. I expected Joey. I wanted Joey. I needed a little fucking Joey, alright? I got motherfucking Damon Wayans. *growls* And now TV Guide.com is saying Joey will be on Last Call on Friday.

*waves stick at TV Guide.com* I don’t believe you! I think you are merely trying to torture me! I think, you are trying to brainwash me into become one of that mutant-faced, girl-voiced, demon-spawn’s teenybopper army! Well, frag you! Joey-luster I may be, but I am in only one man’s teenybopper army, and he has a man’s voice! ……….and a really gay southern name, but still.