I Can't Party With P. Diddy

I was speaking to someone today who was telling me about a person they know who has been hanging out and partying with P. Diddy and all I could think was, "How can anyone party with P. Diddy? I sure as hell couldn't? Just look at the guy."

It's his head. It's his entire demeanour. What gets me the most is he thinks he's all that and he's not. Look at those vapid eyes, that almost heroin junkie nod of the head that he seems to think is oozing sex appeal and exerting dominance over you. Puh-lease! Don't make me laugh Diddy. You're the most uncharismatic star I've ever seen in my life. How are you on my TV screen? Why are you on our airwaves? Why does anyone ever interview you on talk-shows? That's a pointless exercise if ever there was one. I mean if this was a zombie film you'd have to cast this guy as the lead character. No make up to apply, just get one of his big ass bouncers to carry him in on their shoulders and push him onto the set - INSTANT ZOMBIE!

I'm sorry. I can't help it. Every time I look into his eyes and I think, "What the hell is going on in your head man? Is there a light on? Did the hamster wheel stop turning? Did the last functioning brain cell just give up on waiting for a signal and leave?" I mean ... ugh. If I want to party, I'll call Ozzy Osborne thanks ... or pay a visit to Sober Valley Lodge.