I've been fighting the nastiest cold since last Thursday night. For five
days, I have been bed- and sofa- ridden, falling in and out of consciousness
(thanks in part to an arsenal of OTC medications), madly channel surfing looking
for anything to divert my attention from my inability to breathe through my
nostrils. My attention span lasted about as long the time between my
hacking coughs. TV sucks enough as it is, but TV in the summer is
especially heinous.

Fame.
So many kids. So little talent. Most of the time, I was mesmerized
by Carnie Wilson's French manicure. I laughed my ass of at this one
boy who's pants were falling down during the group dance number.
Style's a biotch sometimes.

The
Tony Awards. I hope for his sake that Hugh
Jackman is growing his hair for a role in an upcoming movie about 90's
grunge musicians and it's not his um...personal choice. (Ew.)

I
am still completely repulsed by Good Day Live but inexplicably drawn to
it at the same time.

Lily
has been kidnapped on As The World Turns. Who cares?

I
am very sad to say, I watch NBC's
rerun of its retelling of Carrie on Saturday night...in its entirety.
So, so, so very sad.

The
rest is all a blur. I think I saw some of Barbara Walter's interview with
Hillary Rodham Clinton, but for all I know I could have been watching She
Spies.