So weak…want…waffles…goodbye cruel world…!

Darkness. Depression. The emptiness of my stomach. Oh God, why did Sanjaya have to stay on American Idol for another week? Now I must carry on my hunger strike for another…two days. Until Thursday. When he’ll hopefully be voted off. OH GOD WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LET SANJAYA STAY. Is it because you want revenge on Your Son for being a vampire hunter? WHY, GOD, WHY. This boy is worse than the ten plagues. He’s like all ten plagues rolled into one. His singing voice turns water to blood and kills the first-born with its horrific intensity.

Okay, so maybe I’m exagerrating — but only a little bit.

Comrade Lenin is still taking over Los Angeles in an attempt to hunt down Simon Cowell (or Sanjaya — whoever he gets to first, really). I’ve gotten so desperate in my search for casting a new lead in my show that I’ve joined the ranks of the damned (hey, Dick Cheney would fit the role of Sweeney Todd perfectly, come to think of it…) I beat Jesus at cards (sorry, Jesus! I needed the money). Now God is punishing me by using the speed dial in heaven to keep Sanjaya in this god-forsaken competition because God laughs at me every time I try a new diet. God is obsessed with Dial Idol results. I think he wants to enlist Sanjaya in his eternal struggle against the devil since he thinks Sanjaya has the voice of an angel — or maybe a voice that sounds soothing to the ears of the Hounds of Hell. I shudder to even think of it.

This Sanjaya Diet really really sucks. Can’t eat anything. The world is turning into darkness. My hair has been covering my face for the last two days, which I’ve spent talking to anonymous people on my webcam being all emotional. Why does existence have to be so bland. Why, why must you have sucked me into your dreadful grasp, American Idol?! Why have you stolen me from what really matters? (I’M STILL COMING TO SAVE YOU, MY LOVE!) Life is so tragic. Are we all not players in the great game of Go Fish! that God has laid out for us? What if you don’t have any queens? Or twos? Or even aces? Will you not be granted your salvation?

Great, there I go hallucinating about card games again. At least I have Devil Bush and his vampire cohort to keep me company. Devil Bush is so silly. He has a lot of spare time on his hands when he goes to his “secret ranch” in Texas. To cheer me up out of my sudden bout of emo-ness, he made me a Mohinder Trap:

So he got the spelling off a little bit. It’s a big name. But I like the concept! I plan on luring him out of his apartment and off the ceiling with a piece of cheese. From India. If I can get some imported. Do they even make cheese in India? I thought they worshipped cows there. Come to think of it, I could never worship a cow. Unless it was already turned into a hamburger. Mmm. Hamburgers. …I can’t take this diet much longer. I might be forced to chew through Mohinder’s ceiling to save him. But somehow I don’t think stucco and drywall taste all that appetizing. God is punishing me for having eaten too many George Foreman grilled waffles of virtue as a child. Either that, or maybe it’s a sign that in order to fit into Mohinder’s apartment (which I really hope he hasn’t changed the layout of — I put so much work into turning it pink and all Valentiney for our honeymoon, you know), I have to slim down enough to fit through the doorway first. Hmmm. Well, I’m not really one who’s much for theological discussion and/or thought. Sometimes I think God just likes to laugh at me. Er…with me. Whatever.

In the meantime, Bushie, Cheney, and I are all on our merry way to save Mohinder, frolicking down the yellow brick road of destiny (I really want some waffles). I guess I could be the Cowardly Lion, Cheney could be the Tin Man, and Bushie could be the Scarecrow. I’m kind of timid and enjoy rapidly waddling away from a fight, I think Mr. Cheney could use a heart (y’know, with the whole undead thing going on, a heart might be useful), and Bushie could use a brain (maybe man-catlady could spare one?)

But mostly I hope that Sanjaya gets voted off this week. I don’t know how much more starvation I can take before I lose another pound. My pounds are my only friends. OH GOD, WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SPARE SANJAYA FROM BEING VOTED OFF? My life is coming to an end. The darkness is descending. Life without waffles is not worth living. GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD! I’m going to drown my sorrows in several wine coolers now. Vamp Cheney is really hankering for a Bloody Mary, and I hope he doesn’t mean me.

Ew.

~ Lana