When one door closes, another nakeder door sometimes opens, Katharine

My love affair with Katharine McPhee is well documented (mostly in the pages of my Strawberry Shortcake diary I keep tucked under my pillow.) According to the superficial, she got dropped by her record label.

That kinda sucks to see someone's dream dashed just as quickly as it began. If you need a shoulder (or other body part) to cry (or do other things) on, I'm your guy, Katharine. But speaking of dreams, here's a dream I have for you. Maybe it's time for you to do other things. And by "other things," I mean me. It's time to do me, Katharine. I think I've earned it. Enough with this whole singing charade. Yeah, I saw you sing the National Anthem the other day at the Patriots game. That was cute and all, but seriously, it's time to move on from the singing thing. Ooh...you could do porn! That's respectable and they make a lot of money probably. I bet you'd be great. Oh, and that whole eating disorder thing you used to have...yeah, maybe you should get back on that. Nobody likes a chubby porn star, Katharine.