MJ

I am exhausted.  Morgalin just awakened prematurely from the dose of a cocktail of chardonnay and xanax that I so graciously granted her this evening to tell me that Michael Jackson came to her in a dream.  She had a dream.  MJ sang at her sister's (Mad-girl's) birthday party and told her to "not give up" on her dream to become a "pop-star."  I am way excited...I would love nothing more than to ride her coat-tails to success.  I would even wreck my  Mercedes and crash at the Beverly Hills Hotel before notifying the police that some dumb-ass tree ran into my bitch-of-a-ride.