What? Really? Oh. Well, okay, I guess.

Goodbye, my almost lover.

"Almost lover" in my brains, that is. I talked it over with Jason Castro, and I picked him as my man-boy love servant anyway, so I'm not completely heartbroken that you're outie.

Michael Johns, your tour ends here. Errrrr... wait, that's the hit-the-curb line from "Rock of Love". Whatever. I think it was all those farkatke CRAVATS. Laterz, MJ. Go record an album. I'll buy it.