ye olde freelancing gig came to a welcome end this morning; got my replacement up to speed on what she missed, got a few hugs, got the hell out. now the glorious long weekend before joining The Magazine - a few days to say goodbye to bob barker and the morning tv gang, hit sample sales for foo-foo writer clothes, scope out the central park christo madness, convince the world that judd is the next american idol. he's still in the running, baby, and we find out tonight if he's a finalist. sarah, wise woman that she is, stopped talking about him a long time ago, so we'll get the news with the rest of the plebes tonight. all signs point to yes, though: he's doing well on the television without pity message boards, i've seen neither hide nor hair of him for a few weeks, and look, he's judd. if the contestants' reaction to his performance last night (a saucy "mustang sally") is any indication, he's about to rock america's pants. get on the bandwagon once that happens, will you?
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