Geez, y'all. Simmer.

I'll get to the slumber party in a sec, kids. Lordy Moses. I've been bombarded with e-mails over this one. Sheesh. Settle down.

A quick shout out to my Idol fans out there.

Yes, I'm talking about American Idol on my dating blog. Get over it. It's my blog.

(Note: I'm secretly obsessed with the show. I don't miss a week. I know, I know. But hey. It could be worse. My aunt? Voted 200 times last week for Elliot.)

Could Kat be anymore of a snob? GAAAAW!! She expects those judges to go on and on, raving about how much they loooooove her. And they make some comment about how she was just "okay," and she rolls her eyes?! What the hell was that all about?! Get over yourself! You are not Whitney, Mariah, or Faith. Puhhh-leeeze.

I am pulling for Elliot and Taylor. With Taylor as the winner.

Okay. End rant.

Now for the update about why y'all are really here: my juicy dating life.

So Sixty and I went to the baseball game Friday night before our slumber party. We enjoyed big juicy hot dogs and gigantic cups of $7 beer. And thanks to my thinking ahead-ed-ness -- and no, that's not a word, but work with me here -- we had rockin' seats. Close to the front and right behind home plate. Not to mention that it was a gorgeous night to be outside.

Now, we didn't stay for the whole game. I mean, after the second beer, we were both pretty buzzed. And baseball? Well. It's kinda boring.

Okay, fine. FINE! You drug it out of me. We were groping one another! There! I said it!

And we all know where this is leading.

I'll keep my personal biz-naz under wraps, but I'll just say that the slumber party? Was. Um. Cough. Totally hot.

He surprised me with massage oil. And I even suprised him with breakfast Saturday morning.

And then? More. Um. Cough. Hot action afterwards.

That's all you get.

Happy now?

Peace out.