TV Night was deferred to Tuesday this week due to Sunday's hot Dr. Prom action. This meant that on our way to Sex in the City (pretty good this week, but no free jugs like last time), Liz, Jill and I got to watch American Idol, which was really, really disconcerting. Jesuschrist, the more hideous a performance was, the more those judges just ate it up like it was covered with fudge drippings -- could the three of us be that out of touch with what today's world wants singing its panty jams? Yes, yes, yes.

We also watched Sonya The Pet Psychic convince a postpartumly depressed mini horse to end her hunger strike (this brought a tear to all of our eyes, seriously). She also read a doggy's brain ("More french fries, please!") and channeled a dead chinchilla's spirit ("More tunneling in the covers, please! [not in a dirty way]"). There was also a bat who kept hitting its owner with his thumb-elbow-knee things, I think because he wanted his own apartment?

Not only is Sonya psychic, but she is also weird and British. She wears nightclub makeup out on the farm, right there amidst the cow flops and road apples. (Maybe, Sonya, get one of those mirrors with the three different lighting options, daytime, nighttime, and office?) And she says "darling" every fourteen seconds. (I feel a drinking game coming on!)

In summary, she pretty much silenced us with the amazingness of her many powers, something that almost never happens as we normally spend all of TV Night yelling at the screen (or begging Carrie's outfits for mercy). We were so absorbed, we almost forgot to eat our brownies and mint chip ice cream! Almost.

Missing you already, Sonya! See you on Mondays at 8pm, Fridays at 9pm, and Sundays at 1pm, Sonya! Bye bye, Sonya!

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)