I am devastated.

De-Va-Sta-Ted.

My satellite dish committed suicide four days ago.

It's dead.

Well, not completely dead. Every four hours or so, the screen blips. And if I strain my ears and squint while tilting my head to the left, I can just make out a few choice pieces of dialogue before the darned thing passes out again.

Thus, this is what life has been like in my house this week:

(A BLACK SCREEN. SHONDA LEANS IN HOPEFULLY. PRAYING. A BLIP!)

Ooh! It's Queer Eye For the Straight Guy! Fashion Maven Carson turns to a rumpled dirty Straight Guy:

"So, what does your girlfriend have that I don't have? I mean, besides a working vagina?"

(SHONDA HOWLS WITH LAUGHTER)

Dirty Straight Guy: "Well-"

(TV DROPS DEAD AND SHONDA SCREAMS IN AGONY)

That's it. I don't know if the dirty straight guy's girlfriend agreed to marry him after the queer guys cleaned him up. I don't know ANYTHING. And, until the DirecTV guy gets his butt over here, all I am left with are burning questions.

How did the comics do in Vegas on Last Comic Standing? Was Ralphie hysterical? Did Dat Phan self-destruct?

WHO was eliminated this week on The Amazing Race?

Which kid made it into the group on AI Juniors?

Was Boy Meets Boy any good?

Who's going to marry those kids' Dad?

Did the writer kill the directors on Project Greenlight?

All I have left is my DVD. First I watched Angel Season one (which was GOOD by the way). Now, I'm reduced to watching Felicity Season Two. The entire thing. Back to back to back episodes. Right now, Felicity is considering running for Student Body President. ARGH! At least her hair is growing back in.

Oh, I am in pain. Oh, I am in agony. Suddenly it is clear that exactly how much time I used to spend with my Tivo. Now, I'm restless. Bored. I am taking drastic steps to occupy my time. Crazy, wild, reckless steps.

Y'all, I joined a gym yesterday.

Somebody help me.

According to USA Today, neither Ruben or Clay's singles are doing well.

Okay, Ruben's at No. 12 on the adult R&B chart and Clay is doing alright on the adult contemporary charts but...

...that's so VH-1! Whose idea was it to have them record stuff that appeals only to the old folks out there? Don't get me wrong, I love me some VH-1. Truly. Anyone who was young enough to watch the launch of MTV with crazed excitement is now officially of VH-1 age. But where's the pop hit? Where's the MTV single that launched Kelly Clarkson?

Of course, the reason someone like Ruben won in the first place is because the VH-1 crowd voted for him like crazy. Seriously, I can't imagine that many 13 year old Britney fans were swooning over his rendition of "A Whole New World" the way Sandie and I were. And he's not exactly any teens' idea of a booty-shaking hottie.

(Note to self: Have image of Ruben shaking his booty erased from memory bank.)

As for Clay, well...he's more John Tesh than Justin Timberlake, isn't he? More Michael Bolton than Michael Jackson. And that kind of cheese either hits big or it doesn't. He's destined for either Celine Dion-like stardom or the bargain bin at Tower Records.

But my Ruben...Simon Cowell needs to hire some new songwriters. Preferably some writers under the age of 50.

Don't you think?