When you take the "F" out of "F-B", what's left?

Just a Buddy I really don't need, that's what.

Tuesday night, F-B came over to watch American Idol with me - that's kind of become our routine lately, to sit and watch the show and discuss the performers and the judges (how wrong is it for Paula Abdul to judge a singing competition, for chrissakes?!) and generally just piss and moan over the entire thing (before getting down to other business).

But F-B's constant commentary was really getting on my nerves this week. In my head, I was just screaming "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" and wishing that I were alone. The only reason I was tolerating him at all was the anticipation of a little bit of "F" at the end of the show.

There was no "F". Not even the hint of an "F". Finally, I just got tired of the whole charade by 10:30 p.m. and shooed him out of my apartment, then stomped around bitching like a man who just blew a hundred dollars on a date and didn't even get so much as a goodnight kiss.

Let's get real here for a minute: F-B is in my life for one purpose, and one purpose only. If he's not fulfilling that purpose, then what exactly do I need him for?

N-O-T-H-I-N-G

He wanted to come over Wednesday to watch the results show.

Um, I don't think so.

F-B has been a very lucky man over the past eighteen months - I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm waaaaaaay too hot for him - but his luck is about to run out unless I get "lucky" real soon.

Next week is the final episode of American Idol. I suspect there'll be more than one male losing when the evening is over.