On the one hand, it feels so good to type the word "Heidi" and not have it refer to the Montag who usually parades around with plastic-looking inflated lips and the fiendish Spencer Pratt on her arm.
On the other, this is the one time it might be nice to be talking about Heidi Montag, because this is a potent fantasy ending to her tiresome reality-show fame and nascent singing career: a nonsensical Barbarella Goes To Homecoming ensemble licked viciously by flames conjured by Satan himself, as she's forced to perform on Hell's equivalent of American Idol. Incidentally I think Paula Abdul is one of the judges for that, also.
On the other, this is the one time it might be nice to be talking about Heidi Montag, because this is a potent fantasy ending to her tiresome reality-show fame and nascent singing career: a nonsensical Barbarella Goes To Homecoming ensemble licked viciously by flames conjured by Satan himself, as she's forced to perform on Hell's equivalent of American Idol. Incidentally I think Paula Abdul is one of the judges for that, also.
