Time to Fly, Little Birdie....

I haven't gotten a chance to watch last night's show, much less tonight's but, during the break, Kris called me and told me he won. And although I suppose this should be a treat for me, I'm afraid that I must kick him to the curb, for many reasons. First, although he made it far on the 3-3-3 theory (3 minutes, 3 days, 3 months, 3 years), it ends at 3 months. He calls his wife too many times a day... it bugs me when we're trying to snuggle. Plus, with that beach scandal and the man-sandwich pictures, it was tough to squelch the rumors at the Garden Party meetings. Secondly, like the mother Robin bird, you can only nurture them so much before you have to push them out of the nest on their own... hopefully they don't hit any branches on the way down or land on their fucking head. I have made him what he is... helped him with his songs, tuned that guitar, told him to not shave his face, suggested he sing 'Heartless', licked.... all the stamps on his replies to fan mail... picked out his outfits for the show... and the list goes on. And as a member of the 'First Wives' club, it's only fitting that I walk away before I see any payback (my therapist says I run from success). The last reason is that I don't want to steal any of the spotlight from him. With all the shows and promotions, etc... how would it be for the paparazzi to follow me instead of him. It's hard enough now for me to go about my daily business. That wouldn't be very nice on my part to allow that to continue. As we all know, self confidence is not his strong-suit. And so I bid him farewell and good luck... think of me when you sell your first million records (by sending me a certified check, money order or secure wire transfer)... common-law is a bitch. No hard feelings... just cold, hard cash.