Noodles, tonight I'ma have to put on my black girl pants, so if you are easily offended by broad, racially based stereotypes or slightly less than PC humorous musing, you might want to take the day off from this recap. Everybody else ready? Alright, let’s go.
Salt Lake City white folks, y’all need a talking to. You seem like really nice people, despite Ryan Seacrest’s best attempts to throw salt in your game. (Tsk, tsk AI producers. Your manipulation is showing and it’s not a good look) However, it’s my duty to inform you that there are many, many things that for reasons of history and heredity, white folks should just not do. And you managed to do almost all of them last night. I forgive you, because I really don’t think you know any better. I mean, you could only scrounge up like two little black contestants over the course of the entire night, so who is there to school you on what’s right? I am, that’s who. The bell has rung. Class is now in session. Begin.
Lesson #1: Fat white women cannot wear ho’ gear.
I don’t have much against fat people. (Well, that may not be entirely true, but let’s just go with that for now). I don’t even have much against fat people wearin’ skimpy clothes. Many, many volumptuous (It’s a word. Look it up in your ebonics dictionary) black women and luscious Latinas know how to rock a tight jean or a micro-mini. I believe, based on my extensive research, that this is because the black girls and the Latinas start out curvy and while they may get bigger, they don’t get any less curvy. They just get more curves to love. Not so the fat white woman. Case in point being Miss Tara, the terror goth from last night’s show. Looking like a lump of Play Doh rolled up in black duct tape and plastic shoe laces. No curves, just an up and down block of bulk. Forget about the singing, because she can’t. This is why ho’ gear on fat white women is wrong like a wrong thing. Don’t feel too bad, fat white women. Even skinny white women have trouble carrying it off. Just think of bikini girl and her sad excuse for an ass. In fact, we could have Lesson 1.5 be “White women, step away from the ho’ gear entirely.” But that’s a lecture for another day.
Lesson #2: White people don’t have enough soul to try to sound black.
There are exceptions to this, like every other rule. Robin Thicke, we love you. Here’s your honorary ghetto pass. Teena Marie, you already got yours for life. We even had an example from last night in Frankie Jordan, who threw down with the Wino cut and had enough sass to satisfy any Sapphire. She even had the makings of a little Mariah “Is she or ain’t she?” mixed-ness going on (and she’s down with the swirl, so hello, she’s all good). But for the most part, this lesson is an ancient truism. I don’t care whether it’s Megan Corkrey murdering “Can’t Help Loving That Man of Mine” in an effort to be the white Lady Day or Andrew Gibson trying to belt out a spiritual. It’s wrong and unnatural. I mean, just contrast last night’s bad song choice tragedies: the Osmond fool and Austin Cisneros vs. Jarret Burns and Taylor Viafauna. Osmond fool singing Take 6 barely gets through and ends up looking hella shady. Austin Cisneros sings not one, but two bad songs, one of which is a treacly Raffi cut that lives in the ghetto behind spiritual town, and seems like another Will Malakar in the making. (And btw, Riverton HS, if this geeky fool is what passes for top of the social caste, then you need to step up your game. Seriously.) Now, I don’t believe that either of these fools has a bad voice, and they tried to riff it up and do a few runs, but, well, see the lesson above. In the meantime, over in soulful central we have Jarret Burns, who chose to sing the most played out song of this whole audition cycle (and if I run into Corinne Bailey Rae on the streets, I will punch her in the throat) and turned it out. And Ms. Too Tall Taylor Viafauna throwing down on “Joyful, Joyful”. Lord, we adore you! Let the church say “Amen.” What I’m trying to tell you white people is that, y’all can often sing. I mean, some of y’all have great voices – even if you can’t blow like the original AI exception to this rule, Ms. Kelly Clarkson. But when you try to fly too close to the sun, well, you just wind up melting off your wax wings, don’t you? Don’t get got, suckas. Just stick to the Jack Johnson and Maroon 5 and you’ll be fine.
Lesson #3: White people . . . crazy and nasty.
Now this is not true for everyone, white people. Even Neecy Nash knows that. But y’all sure do sometimes make it easy to generalize. The crazy man with the stringy blond hair and the tongue? Only white folks rock the trashy quite like that. Would a black man have come into the audition room with Simon’s head on a stick? And on his t-shirt? Accompanied by another man in a big ass pink bunny suit? And then have Greg the bunny feel all up on Simon? I think not, Chris Kirkram(?). That’s some special white blend of crazy that they don’t even sell in Starbucks. And did I see in the second montage of sucky contestants some poor little white girl who had mugged Waylon Flowers and stolen his Madame puppet? And brought it with her to the auditions? Why, white woman, why? But the epitome of this phenomenon. The example that cannot be denied, was Rose Flack and her bird’s nest hair and her nasty ass feet. Ewww. White people, parents die. People have hard times. Shit happens. That does not grant license to run around like a neo-hippy poser with your dreadlocked brother, wear pickaninny braids or not bathe. And maybe she does bathe, I don’t know. But when the soles of your feet get so black that the crust on the bottom makes it look like you just walked over a recently tarred blacktop, you call your whole hygiene routine into question. Rose is not the worst singer in the world, although I was left severely underwhelmed by her wan Carole King impression. But y’all, I just can’t get past the nasty.
Thank heavens tonight is the last of the audition shows and Hollywood week is on its way. For the white people who made it through from Salt Lake, please think on last night’s lessons. Internalize them lest you face a group sing beat down of epic proportions. I hope we don’t have to have this conversation again.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
American Idol S8 Ep 5 Heaven Is a Funky Moose
Kittens, I’m gonna get this recap done today come hell or high water! I know I’m cutting it beyond close, but if you think back to Simon’s expression just after Kara Diobadtouch, Paula and Randy got done putting through Sharon Wilbur (and her little dog, too) then you will know my level of disdain for Jacksonville and all things Jacksonvillian. Darlings, we have hit a new low when even our ever intrepid Ryan is traumatized by having his nipples fondled on national TV by some halfwit neverwas. Bleagh. Stop the madness, show.
Well, let’s get down with the get down because Salt Lake will be upon us momentarily.
Josh Ulloa – Can’t sing. I think that about says it all.
Dana Moreno – Needs a good ass whupping for what she did to “Through the Fire.” You do not want to play with Chaka Khan.
Keneswa Taylor – Poor baby couldn’t hold a note, was dressed in a picnic blanket, and had a mom consistently feeding her delusions of fierceness (which should totally be the subject of the next Tyra Banks show). Moms of America, do not puff up your kids' egos with lies about how special and talented they are. Some kids are just ugly and stupid and not all that gifted. It happens. Accept that.
Julissa Veloz – She was not entirely terrible and I had completely given her up for lost when she came in with her big old horse face, bad, bad bangs, $19.99 quincenara dress and $1.99 Beauty Show sash. That said, she’s nothing more than cut bait during Hollywood Week so exactly why did we waste our time on her, kiddies? T’is a puzzle.
But oh, oh . . . I know why. For the best moment of this whole show (other than Ryan getting lost in the jungle in a golf cart – while being artistically lit from the side). Nobody puts Paula in the corner, bitches!! I can’t wait for the day Paula takes Randy out with a cubic zirconia and a leather fingerless glove. We love you, Pau-pau!
Darren Darnell – Is a psychopath. I think that about says it all.
Naomi Sykes – Hold me, kittens. I’m traumatized. I don’t know what was more horrifying. Randy and his Randette spooning in the corner. (It was like a chubby chasers wildest dream over there, y’all!) Paula and Simon renewing their sick sex shenanigans. This poor girl murdering that Minnie Riperton classic. (And note to all AI contestants past, present and future: No one but Minnie can sing this song. No one. No, not you. No, no, not you either. Hell to the naw) Or could it have been . . . was it maybe . . . Ryan may need some crisis counseling, y’all. What that girl done to him? That ain’t right.
Jasmine Murray – So noodles, I’m torn. Jasmine was a big ball of beautiful. Can’t you see her on TRL? Oh, sorry, you can’t because that show doesn’t come on anymore. Let’s try that again. Can’t you see her on FNMTV? But the truth is besides her questionable taste in music (Fergie? Really?), she didn’t have that great of a voice. Still she was cute, and her family was adorable. And I guess in the season of blind and talentless contestants, the one eyed, kinda talented girl is king, so float on, Jasmine.
George Ramirez – I kind of hated him until I realized that he was totally straight up serious as a heart attack with his whole persona and then I kind of totally fell in love with him. Call me, George. You, me and the Rubik’s cube man will hang out. We’ll talk loud and draw a crowd. Or you know, speak very quietly so as not to disturb the crazy.
Anne Marie Boskovic – In which we reaffirm that time tested truth from that classic of the American cinema Grease that if you want to get ahead in life, turn yourself into a whore. She’s a fun girl and she has a lovely voice. She will get pimped up, out, inside out and down and then wind up more twisted up in the game than Brooke White last season. She is not for this show, but she’s fab nonetheless. I liked.
TK Hash – Every nice thing I said above, flip it and reverse it and you have my feelings about TK Hash. Much like Grease II took all that was good and pure about Grease and ground it under Adrian Zmed’s dirty boot heel, TK is the oversung, over-hyped, antithesis of Anne Marie Boskovic, a byproduct of watching too much AI. He took everything that’s horrible about some very good singers and turned that into his raison d’etre. Bleagh. Of course, he’ll probably make the show.
Michael Perrelli – Tool. Pretentious, entitled tool. Tool that the judges would put through at least to Hollywood Week 99.9% of the time. And yet, they resisted somehow. And gave this fool a righteous smackdown to boot. Well played, panel. You’ve saved us from Fivehead II: Revenge of Fivehead, and for that, at least, I am grateful.
Thus ends our time in J-ville. And just under the wire too. Let’s all enjoy even more Idol a couple of hours from now, shall we? Who’s excited?
Well, let’s get down with the get down because Salt Lake will be upon us momentarily.
Josh Ulloa – Can’t sing. I think that about says it all.
Dana Moreno – Needs a good ass whupping for what she did to “Through the Fire.” You do not want to play with Chaka Khan.
Keneswa Taylor – Poor baby couldn’t hold a note, was dressed in a picnic blanket, and had a mom consistently feeding her delusions of fierceness (which should totally be the subject of the next Tyra Banks show). Moms of America, do not puff up your kids' egos with lies about how special and talented they are. Some kids are just ugly and stupid and not all that gifted. It happens. Accept that.
Julissa Veloz – She was not entirely terrible and I had completely given her up for lost when she came in with her big old horse face, bad, bad bangs, $19.99 quincenara dress and $1.99 Beauty Show sash. That said, she’s nothing more than cut bait during Hollywood Week so exactly why did we waste our time on her, kiddies? T’is a puzzle.
But oh, oh . . . I know why. For the best moment of this whole show (other than Ryan getting lost in the jungle in a golf cart – while being artistically lit from the side). Nobody puts Paula in the corner, bitches!! I can’t wait for the day Paula takes Randy out with a cubic zirconia and a leather fingerless glove. We love you, Pau-pau!
Darren Darnell – Is a psychopath. I think that about says it all.
Naomi Sykes – Hold me, kittens. I’m traumatized. I don’t know what was more horrifying. Randy and his Randette spooning in the corner. (It was like a chubby chasers wildest dream over there, y’all!) Paula and Simon renewing their sick sex shenanigans. This poor girl murdering that Minnie Riperton classic. (And note to all AI contestants past, present and future: No one but Minnie can sing this song. No one. No, not you. No, no, not you either. Hell to the naw) Or could it have been . . . was it maybe . . . Ryan may need some crisis counseling, y’all. What that girl done to him? That ain’t right.
Jasmine Murray – So noodles, I’m torn. Jasmine was a big ball of beautiful. Can’t you see her on TRL? Oh, sorry, you can’t because that show doesn’t come on anymore. Let’s try that again. Can’t you see her on FNMTV? But the truth is besides her questionable taste in music (Fergie? Really?), she didn’t have that great of a voice. Still she was cute, and her family was adorable. And I guess in the season of blind and talentless contestants, the one eyed, kinda talented girl is king, so float on, Jasmine.
George Ramirez – I kind of hated him until I realized that he was totally straight up serious as a heart attack with his whole persona and then I kind of totally fell in love with him. Call me, George. You, me and the Rubik’s cube man will hang out. We’ll talk loud and draw a crowd. Or you know, speak very quietly so as not to disturb the crazy.
Anne Marie Boskovic – In which we reaffirm that time tested truth from that classic of the American cinema Grease that if you want to get ahead in life, turn yourself into a whore. She’s a fun girl and she has a lovely voice. She will get pimped up, out, inside out and down and then wind up more twisted up in the game than Brooke White last season. She is not for this show, but she’s fab nonetheless. I liked.
TK Hash – Every nice thing I said above, flip it and reverse it and you have my feelings about TK Hash. Much like Grease II took all that was good and pure about Grease and ground it under Adrian Zmed’s dirty boot heel, TK is the oversung, over-hyped, antithesis of Anne Marie Boskovic, a byproduct of watching too much AI. He took everything that’s horrible about some very good singers and turned that into his raison d’etre. Bleagh. Of course, he’ll probably make the show.
Michael Perrelli – Tool. Pretentious, entitled tool. Tool that the judges would put through at least to Hollywood Week 99.9% of the time. And yet, they resisted somehow. And gave this fool a righteous smackdown to boot. Well played, panel. You’ve saved us from Fivehead II: Revenge of Fivehead, and for that, at least, I am grateful.
Thus ends our time in J-ville. And just under the wire too. Let’s all enjoy even more Idol a couple of hours from now, shall we? Who’s excited?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
American Idol S8 Ep 4 Sometimes You're the Louisville Slugger, Sometimes You're the Ball
Kittens, when the best bad that the show can muster is a fifth rate Cuba Gooding, Jr. knock off "whoo"-ing his way through a horrible rendition of some CCR song and then hugging it out into the sunset with his red clad man friend, you know that the show is just not bringing it like it should be broughten. Louisville was better than SF, but hello, low bar. I have nothing to say about the bad auditioners from last night, especially considering that none of them were even 1/10 as embarassing as Kara Diodon't. There's so much. It is too much. Friends and fans, my new tactic is to ignore. I will just pretend that I live in a world where there is only Paula, Randy, and Simon. And my lovely, lovely pocket gay, Ryan Seacrest who was 15 different flavors of cute last night, each one more scrumptious than the last.
So we know that there were lots of bugs last night, darlings, but what of the Sluggers? Well, I think we had a few winners in the crop. Maybe even enough to go from first to worst among the contenders, what? Saddle up and let's take a turn around the track.
Win
Leneshe Young - Three things I hate about Idol: 1)teenage contestants; 2) sob stories; and 3) delusional contestants who try to sing their own original compositions. So why, oh why do I love, love, love Leneshe? Maybe it's because she is made of awesome. The cute mom? Love! The yellow top/skinny jeans combo? Love! The sassy attitude? Love! And the voice? Oh my, yes. Love! I even thought the song was hot, as the Dawg noted. (Althought I'm still trying to puzzle out the title. Natty? Nappy? What was it?) There'll be time for hating later, but for now. The girl is made of win.
Kris Allen - We got all of about a second of this dude singing "A Song for You", but it was enough to make me want to see much, much more. I really only ever want to hear two people sing this song, Donny Hathaway and Elliot Yamin (and we'll come back to how Simon took his name in vain later), but if he keeps going the way he did last night, I might add this dudes name to the list. And really, we so needed to see the delusional, Paris Hilton-esque nightmare of a first contestant that we had to shortchange this kid? Was it funny? Did it add any nutritional value? I didn't think so.
Place
Brent Keith Smith - Let me state for the record, kiddies, that I do not like this fool at all. Having said that, he's pretty much perfect for this show. He walked in and Paula started making plans for new and creative ways to incur scandals, lawsuits and tell all books. This kid better keep his booty call slots wide open, because she is about to be all over that. And he doesn't have a terrible voice, but that's not really the point with contestants like him anyway. Simon was right, as always, that the song choice sucked tremendous amounts of ass and did him no favors. And were I commenting on someone who I'm decidedly just not even acknowledging, then I'd have something to say about that right here. But I'm not. So I don't. So all that to say that this kid has a shot at going fairly deep - Top 10, Top 8 even, if he plays his cards right. And I will hate him every minute for doing so.
Joanna Pacitti - I'd say she's Carly 2.0, but that's giving her too much credit. She sang what may be my absolute all time favorite Pat Benatar song, which gives her at least one cool point for good taste. That said, the singing was wholly underwhelming and it's clear to me why she never became the next big thing. I'm not sure I'm down for the desparation tango again this season, and since Joanna was already as jumpy as a long tail cat in a room full of rockers and it's only round one, I don't think she'd hold up over the course of the entire season. Let's save ourselves weeks of meltdown now, shall we and just put this girl on a bus back to shaky town.
Show
Alex Grace - She's cute as a button and her baby is the most adorablest thing on this earth. (Note to Jesus is for the Kids: That's how it's done) And her rendition of Dr. Feelgood wasn't terrible. She's just so shouty, y'all. If you put her and Von in a room together, they'd bust eardrums for miles around. Please, please let's hope she unlearns that old Idol maxim that loud is the new good, 'cause I think underneath all that yelling, she might just have an OK voice and I'd love to hear it some time.
Matt Giraud - How Simon could compare this goat voiced, vibrato abuser to Elliot Yamin is beyond me. Heresy! This was another complete head scratcher from the judges. Everything about this fool was annoying, from his fake fun dueling pianos (which, if I were in a bar and some one were to present that to me as some form of "entertainment", heads would get busted and beer bottles smashed) to his faux adorably dorky geek schtick. Matt Giraud, we watched Elliot Yamin. We knew Elliot Yamin; Elliot Yamin was a friend of ours. Fool, you are no Elliot Yamin. Next.
Felicia Barton - I kind of wanted to like her, kittens, but then she went and sang that Corinne Bailey Ray song which is fast becoming this year's played out number of the audition cycle. So now I can't tell whether I dislike her or just am over the song. I'll have an eye out in Hollywood, because my gut says it was the song choice and that there's something to enjoy about this girl. On the real though, homegirl needs a lot of work. A LOT of work. Makeovers can't come soon enough.
Noodles, only three more hours of audition rounds before the extended crazy of Hollywood Week. Simon at his nastiest and most bitter! Group sings! The elevator! The chair! Time to look all these gift horses in the mouth.
So we know that there were lots of bugs last night, darlings, but what of the Sluggers? Well, I think we had a few winners in the crop. Maybe even enough to go from first to worst among the contenders, what? Saddle up and let's take a turn around the track.
Win
Leneshe Young - Three things I hate about Idol: 1)teenage contestants; 2) sob stories; and 3) delusional contestants who try to sing their own original compositions. So why, oh why do I love, love, love Leneshe? Maybe it's because she is made of awesome. The cute mom? Love! The yellow top/skinny jeans combo? Love! The sassy attitude? Love! And the voice? Oh my, yes. Love! I even thought the song was hot, as the Dawg noted. (Althought I'm still trying to puzzle out the title. Natty? Nappy? What was it?) There'll be time for hating later, but for now. The girl is made of win.
Kris Allen - We got all of about a second of this dude singing "A Song for You", but it was enough to make me want to see much, much more. I really only ever want to hear two people sing this song, Donny Hathaway and Elliot Yamin (and we'll come back to how Simon took his name in vain later), but if he keeps going the way he did last night, I might add this dudes name to the list. And really, we so needed to see the delusional, Paris Hilton-esque nightmare of a first contestant that we had to shortchange this kid? Was it funny? Did it add any nutritional value? I didn't think so.
Place
Brent Keith Smith - Let me state for the record, kiddies, that I do not like this fool at all. Having said that, he's pretty much perfect for this show. He walked in and Paula started making plans for new and creative ways to incur scandals, lawsuits and tell all books. This kid better keep his booty call slots wide open, because she is about to be all over that. And he doesn't have a terrible voice, but that's not really the point with contestants like him anyway. Simon was right, as always, that the song choice sucked tremendous amounts of ass and did him no favors. And were I commenting on someone who I'm decidedly just not even acknowledging, then I'd have something to say about that right here. But I'm not. So I don't. So all that to say that this kid has a shot at going fairly deep - Top 10, Top 8 even, if he plays his cards right. And I will hate him every minute for doing so.
Joanna Pacitti - I'd say she's Carly 2.0, but that's giving her too much credit. She sang what may be my absolute all time favorite Pat Benatar song, which gives her at least one cool point for good taste. That said, the singing was wholly underwhelming and it's clear to me why she never became the next big thing. I'm not sure I'm down for the desparation tango again this season, and since Joanna was already as jumpy as a long tail cat in a room full of rockers and it's only round one, I don't think she'd hold up over the course of the entire season. Let's save ourselves weeks of meltdown now, shall we and just put this girl on a bus back to shaky town.
Show
Alex Grace - She's cute as a button and her baby is the most adorablest thing on this earth. (Note to Jesus is for the Kids: That's how it's done) And her rendition of Dr. Feelgood wasn't terrible. She's just so shouty, y'all. If you put her and Von in a room together, they'd bust eardrums for miles around. Please, please let's hope she unlearns that old Idol maxim that loud is the new good, 'cause I think underneath all that yelling, she might just have an OK voice and I'd love to hear it some time.
Matt Giraud - How Simon could compare this goat voiced, vibrato abuser to Elliot Yamin is beyond me. Heresy! This was another complete head scratcher from the judges. Everything about this fool was annoying, from his fake fun dueling pianos (which, if I were in a bar and some one were to present that to me as some form of "entertainment", heads would get busted and beer bottles smashed) to his faux adorably dorky geek schtick. Matt Giraud, we watched Elliot Yamin. We knew Elliot Yamin; Elliot Yamin was a friend of ours. Fool, you are no Elliot Yamin. Next.
Felicia Barton - I kind of wanted to like her, kittens, but then she went and sang that Corinne Bailey Ray song which is fast becoming this year's played out number of the audition cycle. So now I can't tell whether I dislike her or just am over the song. I'll have an eye out in Hollywood, because my gut says it was the song choice and that there's something to enjoy about this girl. On the real though, homegirl needs a lot of work. A LOT of work. Makeovers can't come soon enough.
Noodles, only three more hours of audition rounds before the extended crazy of Hollywood Week. Simon at his nastiest and most bitter! Group sings! The elevator! The chair! Time to look all these gift horses in the mouth.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
American Idol S8 Ep 3 San Francisco Bay Blues
Life has been getting your poor blogger down of late, darlings, and last night’s AI did nothing to help. Can you say worst audition episode of this or many seasons? I knew that you could. And kittens, had I only known, I wouldn’t have blown my wad on Elphaba and Co. in the last post, you know? Because Mr. Wicked was the only worthwhile thing about San Fran. I couldn’t even be assed to figure out names, so let’s just dive in and do the quick and dirty, shall we?
Mr. Wicked – Lovely voice. Kinda almost there with the look, thus can be spectacularly transformed around week six or seven. Set Simon’s gaydar to tingling such that the “theatrical” code came out. Yep, this one’s a keeper. And his first concert was Paula Abdul. Blowing Kisses in the Wind. Great, great song. I liked this one.
Enough of the good vibes because Kara Diodonotmakemehurtyou was ridiculous here, and really all throughout this episode. Y’all, I don’t know if I can with this one. I maybe could get past the Shredded Wheat top (And were those grommets holding those strips together? Really?) Perhaps, I could even get past letting dubious “talent” like prom dress girl through, because, as we’ve established, every Hollywood Week needs its redshirts. But the constant Simon baiting? And trying to bite on Paula’s moment with Mr. Wicked? No, you don’t get your hand kissed. He didn’t see you floating around on a wire and caterwauling about how waiting for him was like blowing kisses in the wind, whatever that means, now did he? Here’s a newsflash for the new judge. This show is not about you. In fact, I think that’s the reason why I most hate her, nibblets. Our intrepid trio, whatever their faults, never lose sight of the fact that this show is not really about them. It’s about the kids that they are there to ridiculously puff up only to later eviscerate for our viewing pleasure. But this one? This new one? Let her speak. Let her finish. Kiss her hand. Give her that book on anatomy and physiology. Come hug her, kids. Yeah, no. So much hate for this new one. Why is she here?
Aaahh. I always feel better after a heaping helping of hating, don’t you?
Hair Monster – I know I gave some free passes last week to the sob story contestants, but at least, they could really sing. Hair Monster gets no such pass from me. He has a pleasant voice, if a little bit strained when he really tried to do a few runs. And his mom is gorgeous and I’m sure she loves him very much. But I’m not crying for you and you’re not cute enough to make up for the fact that you are a studio musician at best. He might make it through to the group sing during Hollywood Week, but I can’t see him in the chair getting the pass through to Top 36, can you kiddies? Maybe he’s got a little something something going on that we don’t know about, but he will need to bring it much harder than what he showed last night if he hopes to advance.
Prom Dress/Jesus is for the Kids/Rectum Singer/Rubik’s Cube – Darlings, I really don’t think I have the strength. Nobody else in this episode even registered, neither the good nor the bad. The “good” were fair to middlin’ at best. And Jesus is for the Kids? Hate to burst your bubble, but your kids? Not that cute. I guess the apples really don’t fall far from the tree. I actually would’ve loved to spend some more time with that red haired girl who sang Aretha (Although another 16 year old, show? When will they ever learn?) or the pretty, hippy boy with what seemed to be the best voice of the night. But I guess we were just too busy getting all up in that crazy beat boxing boy’s ass, weren’t we? And a lovely waste of time that was. Kiddies, I admit it. I’m cranky and was already pissed off that we were only getting an hour last night, but you have to admit that SF severely underwhelmed. When even Ryan can’t bring on the warm fuzzies, Idol is having an off night.
Oh well, onward and upward, I suppose. I still have hopes for S8. Maybe the crazy bald contestant will follow through on whatever threat he lays down and kill Kara Diogettostepping. A ratings booster and an immediate fix to the show. Don’t let me down, Crazy.
Mr. Wicked – Lovely voice. Kinda almost there with the look, thus can be spectacularly transformed around week six or seven. Set Simon’s gaydar to tingling such that the “theatrical” code came out. Yep, this one’s a keeper. And his first concert was Paula Abdul. Blowing Kisses in the Wind. Great, great song. I liked this one.
Enough of the good vibes because Kara Diodonotmakemehurtyou was ridiculous here, and really all throughout this episode. Y’all, I don’t know if I can with this one. I maybe could get past the Shredded Wheat top (And were those grommets holding those strips together? Really?) Perhaps, I could even get past letting dubious “talent” like prom dress girl through, because, as we’ve established, every Hollywood Week needs its redshirts. But the constant Simon baiting? And trying to bite on Paula’s moment with Mr. Wicked? No, you don’t get your hand kissed. He didn’t see you floating around on a wire and caterwauling about how waiting for him was like blowing kisses in the wind, whatever that means, now did he? Here’s a newsflash for the new judge. This show is not about you. In fact, I think that’s the reason why I most hate her, nibblets. Our intrepid trio, whatever their faults, never lose sight of the fact that this show is not really about them. It’s about the kids that they are there to ridiculously puff up only to later eviscerate for our viewing pleasure. But this one? This new one? Let her speak. Let her finish. Kiss her hand. Give her that book on anatomy and physiology. Come hug her, kids. Yeah, no. So much hate for this new one. Why is she here?
Aaahh. I always feel better after a heaping helping of hating, don’t you?
Hair Monster – I know I gave some free passes last week to the sob story contestants, but at least, they could really sing. Hair Monster gets no such pass from me. He has a pleasant voice, if a little bit strained when he really tried to do a few runs. And his mom is gorgeous and I’m sure she loves him very much. But I’m not crying for you and you’re not cute enough to make up for the fact that you are a studio musician at best. He might make it through to the group sing during Hollywood Week, but I can’t see him in the chair getting the pass through to Top 36, can you kiddies? Maybe he’s got a little something something going on that we don’t know about, but he will need to bring it much harder than what he showed last night if he hopes to advance.
Prom Dress/Jesus is for the Kids/Rectum Singer/Rubik’s Cube – Darlings, I really don’t think I have the strength. Nobody else in this episode even registered, neither the good nor the bad. The “good” were fair to middlin’ at best. And Jesus is for the Kids? Hate to burst your bubble, but your kids? Not that cute. I guess the apples really don’t fall far from the tree. I actually would’ve loved to spend some more time with that red haired girl who sang Aretha (Although another 16 year old, show? When will they ever learn?) or the pretty, hippy boy with what seemed to be the best voice of the night. But I guess we were just too busy getting all up in that crazy beat boxing boy’s ass, weren’t we? And a lovely waste of time that was. Kiddies, I admit it. I’m cranky and was already pissed off that we were only getting an hour last night, but you have to admit that SF severely underwhelmed. When even Ryan can’t bring on the warm fuzzies, Idol is having an off night.
Oh well, onward and upward, I suppose. I still have hopes for S8. Maybe the crazy bald contestant will follow through on whatever threat he lays down and kill Kara Diogettostepping. A ratings booster and an immediate fix to the show. Don’t let me down, Crazy.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
American Idol S8 Ep 2 Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain
In which we discover that, dear viewers, the Wizard is just a dumpy old carney with a sagging balloon. Kittens, the judges really put through some head scratchers last night. I counted 4 really Hollywood worthy performances and a whole bunch of folks who got passed on looking mighty shady. The bad was barely worth commenting on. I'm blaming Miss New Thang, Kara Dioshutthehellup. Yeah, that's the ticket.
At any rate, darlings, let's dig in shall we? Follow the Fivehead road.
Glindas: These kids are magic!
Lil Rounds. I am loving the 'Tasia 2.0! Yes, yes, yes! That’s money right there, y’all. The best part of the whole audition was the cut to Simon after maybe the first half note of the song and you could see his pupils turn into dollar signs, just like in the old school Tex Avery cartoons. Damn. This girl's a comer.
Danny Golke(?). I don't know how to spell this kids name and I'm too lazy to look it up, but y'all know who I mean. 28 year old widower. And I was all set to hate all over this fool (much like I did his compadre, who, just why did he get through again?) because you know I can't stand a sob story. But he won me over, noodles. The kid can blow. I'm sure I'll get tired of them flogging the dead wife soon enough, but for now, the ruby slipper fits.
Von Smith. Here's another one I was dying to dislike with that awful bucket hat looking like he got lost on the way to a Swingers casting call . . . 15 years ago. But lo and behold, our little fashion challenged buckaroo has a good voice. I would like for him please to stop shouting at me, though. And the show can save the sorry attempt at suspense building as well. Who among us did not know that this boy was going through?
Jessica Paige Furney. Now don't think I'm going soft on you, but the cute grandmother? Alright, Fuller. I give up. Your nerdy girl got to me. And that despite a truly awful song choice which got me to thinking that her lower register is looking mighty suspect. Message to Jessica: Your G-ma and I really want to root for you. Please choose more appropriate songs in the future. And speak up. We can barely hear you.
Flying Monkeys: They're not bad; they've just been led astray.
Matt Breitzke. Looked like a serial killer, sounded like a bar band singer. And haven't we had enough of those from Kansas City to last several lifetimes, hmmm? Simon disappointed me here. And Randy made the salient point. What? My world, it is all askew. Also, note to all white men trapped in the early 90's: let the soul patch go. It's not cute. A nation of women thanks you.
The Bobsey Twin. Tomfoolery. India is a perfect example of too many people in the church telling you you can sang. This is not Miss Rap Supreme. And she can't sing. So just where is this supposed to all end? Next.
Jamar Rodgers. Mini-fauxhawk? That's automatic fail right there. Go home immediately. I know they put you through so that there can be even more drama when your friend makes it through to day two in Hollywood and you don't, but seriously? Not at all. No.
Ashley Anderson. If this were a marketing competition or a how to suck up to others to get what you want competition, she'd get a 10, 10, 10 shabam. (Love L'il Mama! And if you're not planning on peeping ABDC's premiere tonight, then what is wrong with you?) But since this is a singing competition, I'm perplexed at why she's moving on. I mean, props to her for picking a song penned by Simon, but, yeah. That's all I have to say about that.
Side Note: Simon, this was not a good night for you and I. You put Beer Belly Bar Singer through and then this hideous song that you apparently had a hand in creating. Really, we've not yet fully recovered, you and I, from the whole ridiculousness that is the Leona Lewis phenomenon anyway. Where did the love go? We can get it back, right? Not being on the same page with you is really messing with my mind.
Michael Castro. Nepotism is bad, our outgoing President being the prime example. And his brother got the pretty gene in the family.
Elphabas: Truly, Truly wicked
Ryan Atberg. Kittens, let's all put on our best Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford voices, yes? No. Members. Only. Jackets. EVER. Ahh. That was refreshing. And that's before we even get to the whole effect. Skinny jeans and deep vee neck tee shirt. Gold chain. Pointy toe shoes. Oh for Ryan's sake! Y'all it took me a minute to think about who this fool reminded me of and then I got it. Captian Caveman. Y'all see it, don't you?
Jasmine Joseph. You were on the receiving end of the most awesome stone faced silence ever. I would like to see that over and over and over again. Multi-colored hair can be fun!
Mia Connolly. I wanted to love to hate you. You had it all. Red weave wearing? Check. Black lipliner and purple lipstick? Check. Premium 'ho gear? Check. Oh, this should've been spectacular. Sadly it turned out to be lots of bun and no sausage. You let me down, Mia. You coulda been a contender, but instead you're just a bum.
Paula Abdul. You were dressed in green jello and you got your total bitch on last night. What happened to loopy, fun Paula? Did someone hide your meds? Not enough "coke" in the cup? Paula, we love you because you're a nonsensical rainbow that touches the colors of our heart. Don't let Kara Diodumpherquick steal your swag.
So week one is done, friends. Overall, it was a satisfying start to our quest. In fact, more than satisfying. I'm ready for more. Damn inauguration.
At any rate, darlings, let's dig in shall we? Follow the Fivehead road.
Glindas: These kids are magic!
Lil Rounds. I am loving the 'Tasia 2.0! Yes, yes, yes! That’s money right there, y’all. The best part of the whole audition was the cut to Simon after maybe the first half note of the song and you could see his pupils turn into dollar signs, just like in the old school Tex Avery cartoons. Damn. This girl's a comer.
Danny Golke(?). I don't know how to spell this kids name and I'm too lazy to look it up, but y'all know who I mean. 28 year old widower. And I was all set to hate all over this fool (much like I did his compadre, who, just why did he get through again?) because you know I can't stand a sob story. But he won me over, noodles. The kid can blow. I'm sure I'll get tired of them flogging the dead wife soon enough, but for now, the ruby slipper fits.
Von Smith. Here's another one I was dying to dislike with that awful bucket hat looking like he got lost on the way to a Swingers casting call . . . 15 years ago. But lo and behold, our little fashion challenged buckaroo has a good voice. I would like for him please to stop shouting at me, though. And the show can save the sorry attempt at suspense building as well. Who among us did not know that this boy was going through?
Jessica Paige Furney. Now don't think I'm going soft on you, but the cute grandmother? Alright, Fuller. I give up. Your nerdy girl got to me. And that despite a truly awful song choice which got me to thinking that her lower register is looking mighty suspect. Message to Jessica: Your G-ma and I really want to root for you. Please choose more appropriate songs in the future. And speak up. We can barely hear you.
Flying Monkeys: They're not bad; they've just been led astray.
Matt Breitzke. Looked like a serial killer, sounded like a bar band singer. And haven't we had enough of those from Kansas City to last several lifetimes, hmmm? Simon disappointed me here. And Randy made the salient point. What? My world, it is all askew. Also, note to all white men trapped in the early 90's: let the soul patch go. It's not cute. A nation of women thanks you.
The Bobsey Twin. Tomfoolery. India is a perfect example of too many people in the church telling you you can sang. This is not Miss Rap Supreme. And she can't sing. So just where is this supposed to all end? Next.
Jamar Rodgers. Mini-fauxhawk? That's automatic fail right there. Go home immediately. I know they put you through so that there can be even more drama when your friend makes it through to day two in Hollywood and you don't, but seriously? Not at all. No.
Ashley Anderson. If this were a marketing competition or a how to suck up to others to get what you want competition, she'd get a 10, 10, 10 shabam. (Love L'il Mama! And if you're not planning on peeping ABDC's premiere tonight, then what is wrong with you?) But since this is a singing competition, I'm perplexed at why she's moving on. I mean, props to her for picking a song penned by Simon, but, yeah. That's all I have to say about that.
Side Note: Simon, this was not a good night for you and I. You put Beer Belly Bar Singer through and then this hideous song that you apparently had a hand in creating. Really, we've not yet fully recovered, you and I, from the whole ridiculousness that is the Leona Lewis phenomenon anyway. Where did the love go? We can get it back, right? Not being on the same page with you is really messing with my mind.
Michael Castro. Nepotism is bad, our outgoing President being the prime example. And his brother got the pretty gene in the family.
Elphabas: Truly, Truly wicked
Ryan Atberg. Kittens, let's all put on our best Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford voices, yes? No. Members. Only. Jackets. EVER. Ahh. That was refreshing. And that's before we even get to the whole effect. Skinny jeans and deep vee neck tee shirt. Gold chain. Pointy toe shoes. Oh for Ryan's sake! Y'all it took me a minute to think about who this fool reminded me of and then I got it. Captian Caveman. Y'all see it, don't you?
Jasmine Joseph. You were on the receiving end of the most awesome stone faced silence ever. I would like to see that over and over and over again. Multi-colored hair can be fun!
Mia Connolly. I wanted to love to hate you. You had it all. Red weave wearing? Check. Black lipliner and purple lipstick? Check. Premium 'ho gear? Check. Oh, this should've been spectacular. Sadly it turned out to be lots of bun and no sausage. You let me down, Mia. You coulda been a contender, but instead you're just a bum.
Paula Abdul. You were dressed in green jello and you got your total bitch on last night. What happened to loopy, fun Paula? Did someone hide your meds? Not enough "coke" in the cup? Paula, we love you because you're a nonsensical rainbow that touches the colors of our heart. Don't let Kara Diodumpherquick steal your swag.
So week one is done, friends. Overall, it was a satisfying start to our quest. In fact, more than satisfying. I'm ready for more. Damn inauguration.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
American Idol S8 Ep 1 Ashes to Ashes
Saddle up, pardners and let Cowboy Ryan welcome you to Season 8 of your American Idol. Note to Ryan: We love you when you are all sparkly and shiny. Please leave plaid to the Rufus Humphrey's of the world. 'kay? Thx. Bye.
Alright, AIlettes, can we deal with the opening montage? Thank you show, for the gift of memories. You know we're scared. We fear the new, the unknown, what we don't understand. And so you give us an awesome, awesome dose of AI best ofs. To whit: It’s the Paula/Simon kiss. It’s that crazy white wing man! And tweety bird woman. The Pickle! Daughtry! Oh, they are bringing it. Bush Baby! And Clay’s doppelganger stalker. The Hoff. The Brittenum Twins. Carzy crying girl. The Ponyhawk. She Bangs! Michaela Gordon. ‘Tasia! Eww, Taylor. Kelly Clarkson. EEEEEE!!!! And then they ruin it with the fivehead. But I can't even be mad. The only thing that could've made it better was if they'd used "For the Good Times" but middle America may not be ready for Reverend Al.
Take it away, pocket host.
And what a way to start. What is Paula wearing? For the love of god. Is that gold lame woven into that ruffled black monstrosity? Why? Let's take it day by day, because ain't no worst to first during early round AI.
Day One
Tuan Ngyuen? Just, no. No. Wow. Not enough no in the world. Just. Wow. Kara Dioridiculous. You’ve never seen anything like that? You need to watch more American Idol.
That was weaksauce, Idol. Come hard or go home.
Emily Hughes. Quirky white girl. Singer mom with frustrated dreams of stardom of her own. We get to see a lot of backstory. Yeah, she’s going Hollywood. No doubt. Randy. “It’s about you in this life, yo?” Really? Why are you so useless? And yeah, she’s alright, but you and I both know, Idol fans, that she will never, never, never win. So, she just screwed her friends for what? Sleep well, sweet thing.
Old Ass Man. Ain’t no way this old ass man is 28. 38, maybe. And if he wants someone to tell him that he's great, I've got some advice for him. It goes like so: Stop wearing that ridiculous bandana. Stop acting like you're 15 years younger than you really are. And stop thinking you can be a musician. Karaoke. Live it. Learn it. Love it. Oh, PS, you are pathetic. Step off.
Sidebar: Simon capping on “Straight Up”? Priceless. Priceless. And it took Paula about five minutes to get it. And she’s flipping him off by faking scratching her head? Lame. Paula, are you five? Oh wait, never mind.
Back to the story – He was boring and nobody cares. That’s 5-7 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
Young dude. He was not even worth my time. I’m sure he's slaying ‘em in the aisles at his HS talent show. I was bored, JB. If he gets out of the Hollywood round, he won’t make it past top 24. Next.
Michael Grrrr? Punks jump up to get beat down. Next.
Montage o’ suck. Men don’t sing Celine Dion. Nope, not Dionne Warwick, either. Just man up, bitches.
X-Ray. Here's a personal message from me to you. Ready? You are a fool. And you need more curl activator. If you’re going to rock the jheri, keep it tight. The sad thing is, he doesn’t have an entirely horrible voice. Too bad he chose to act a damn fool rather than audition.
Arianna Plasticprincess. No more 16 year olds. For the love of all that’s holy. One Jordin Sparks is more than enough. And that local pay it forward program? Yeah, cry me a river, all right? This is a talent competition show. Eh, she doesn't have a terrible voice, but she's nothing special. It will be fun to watch this show grind her under its heel.
Final thought on day one. Lots of men made it through. Huh. Oh well, onward and upward, kittens.
Day Two
Fashion Police Note (And I can tell there will be many, many this season): Paula and Kara Dionovalueadd appear to have coordinated their outfits. Are they two? Seriously.
Elijah Scarlett. Deep ass voice. He should do voice over work. He’s the cutest thing ever!! Can’t sing a lick, bless his heart. But he is a cutie. He was so cute, he made Paula make a valid and useful suggestion. He is magic!
Leah Marie. Seriously, show. No. More. 16. Year. Olds. Hate. So much hate. Haaaaaatttteeeee. It burns. And she loves Kara Diodeathofthisshow. No wonder. Spawn of the devil. Frikkin’ new judge already bringing trouble. She was on some Tracy Flick trip.
Stevie Wright. Well, she was a big old horse face girl and she dressed like a cow. So I thought maybe she would sing like a nightengale? Keep the animal theme alive, Stevie. Well, she was no Etta James. She ain’t got the pipes for that song, sweeties. And what did I just say about 16 year olds? Just say no, show.
Michael Sarver. He-man Oilman. I will not be able to stand him for a whole season. Trust. Cute kids, though. Wait, I take that back. Homeslice can straight up blow. What? I apologize He-man Oilman. You rocked the party.
Bad audition medley. Again. Bored now.
Katrina Darrow. Ok, hype aside, bikini woman is not even cute. And Ryan, no one believed that you were thinking about making out with that girl. And no, she couldn’t sing. She sounded like me in the shower. Mimi will spank that ass and send her home crying on her stripper heels. Ryan has never looked as uncomfortable as he did during that kiss.
And BTW, Ryan, we have not accepted the new judge. Kisses.
Eric Thomas, AKA Sexual Chocolate. I think I love you. I would've loved him even more if he'd actually sung “Greatest Love of All” and then screamed “Sexshul Chocolate” when he was done. Oh my heavens. Paula capping on his tat was hilarious. And what’s up with P-dog's glasses? And Simon. ”Thank you, Sexshul.” Comedy gold, my friends. Sexshul Mom, please don’t give that fool a car. For real.
Brianna Quijada. Cute as a button. Can’t sing, though. But very cute. And Hollywood needs it’s deadweight redshirts.
At this point in the show, I was sick of white Stevie Wonder already.
Deanna Brown. Boring, bland, blonde. Generically decent voice. Whatever. Don’t care about you at all. Next.
Ryan is hilarious though. “Deanna, I love it when you baby sit me.” I love you, tiny, overly groomed man.
Tony Somebody. Oops, Cody Somebody. Weirdo. That’s alright. I like weirdos. I didn’t think he could really sing all that well, though. Sad for him.
Alex Wagner Trugman. Oh, my, how I love geeks. Love the geeks! And he fucking turned it out! He’s so cute. I don’t think he’ll get through Hollywood week, but if he does somehow wind up in the top 24, he could totally fill the Chicken Little/John Stevens/JPL slot. Every now and again, I love a good "Suck it, Simon" contestant, and this fool seems ripe for the Sanjaya-ing. Gooooo, geeks!
Why did Idol do that to that Bon Jovi classic? What did JBJ ever do to you, Simon Fuller? Didn't he come on and play the mentor? Let Jordin murder his song? And this is how you repay him. Hmmph. Fine friend you is.
Scott McIntyre. I hate you. I don’t care if you sing like frikkin’ Pavarotti. Next.
PS, you don’t sing like Pavarotti.
And we’re done. Well, it held my interest for almost the entire two hours. I didn’t switch over to The Biggest Loser even once. New judge sucks tremendous amounts of ass and if I have to hear her sing again, somebody will get cut. But all in all, there've been worse starts to AI. What say you kiddies? In for a penny, in for a pound or is it time for cutting and running? I know I'll be back. I'd even brave KC and the Fivehead for Idol. That's love, y'all.
Seacrest, Out. I miss that.
Alright, AIlettes, can we deal with the opening montage? Thank you show, for the gift of memories. You know we're scared. We fear the new, the unknown, what we don't understand. And so you give us an awesome, awesome dose of AI best ofs. To whit: It’s the Paula/Simon kiss. It’s that crazy white wing man! And tweety bird woman. The Pickle! Daughtry! Oh, they are bringing it. Bush Baby! And Clay’s doppelganger stalker. The Hoff. The Brittenum Twins. Carzy crying girl. The Ponyhawk. She Bangs! Michaela Gordon. ‘Tasia! Eww, Taylor. Kelly Clarkson. EEEEEE!!!! And then they ruin it with the fivehead. But I can't even be mad. The only thing that could've made it better was if they'd used "For the Good Times" but middle America may not be ready for Reverend Al.
Take it away, pocket host.
And what a way to start. What is Paula wearing? For the love of god. Is that gold lame woven into that ruffled black monstrosity? Why? Let's take it day by day, because ain't no worst to first during early round AI.
Day One
Tuan Ngyuen? Just, no. No. Wow. Not enough no in the world. Just. Wow. Kara Dioridiculous. You’ve never seen anything like that? You need to watch more American Idol.
That was weaksauce, Idol. Come hard or go home.
Emily Hughes. Quirky white girl. Singer mom with frustrated dreams of stardom of her own. We get to see a lot of backstory. Yeah, she’s going Hollywood. No doubt. Randy. “It’s about you in this life, yo?” Really? Why are you so useless? And yeah, she’s alright, but you and I both know, Idol fans, that she will never, never, never win. So, she just screwed her friends for what? Sleep well, sweet thing.
Old Ass Man. Ain’t no way this old ass man is 28. 38, maybe. And if he wants someone to tell him that he's great, I've got some advice for him. It goes like so: Stop wearing that ridiculous bandana. Stop acting like you're 15 years younger than you really are. And stop thinking you can be a musician. Karaoke. Live it. Learn it. Love it. Oh, PS, you are pathetic. Step off.
Sidebar: Simon capping on “Straight Up”? Priceless. Priceless. And it took Paula about five minutes to get it. And she’s flipping him off by faking scratching her head? Lame. Paula, are you five? Oh wait, never mind.
Back to the story – He was boring and nobody cares. That’s 5-7 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
Young dude. He was not even worth my time. I’m sure he's slaying ‘em in the aisles at his HS talent show. I was bored, JB. If he gets out of the Hollywood round, he won’t make it past top 24. Next.
Michael Grrrr? Punks jump up to get beat down. Next.
Montage o’ suck. Men don’t sing Celine Dion. Nope, not Dionne Warwick, either. Just man up, bitches.
X-Ray. Here's a personal message from me to you. Ready? You are a fool. And you need more curl activator. If you’re going to rock the jheri, keep it tight. The sad thing is, he doesn’t have an entirely horrible voice. Too bad he chose to act a damn fool rather than audition.
Arianna Plasticprincess. No more 16 year olds. For the love of all that’s holy. One Jordin Sparks is more than enough. And that local pay it forward program? Yeah, cry me a river, all right? This is a talent competition show. Eh, she doesn't have a terrible voice, but she's nothing special. It will be fun to watch this show grind her under its heel.
Final thought on day one. Lots of men made it through. Huh. Oh well, onward and upward, kittens.
Day Two
Fashion Police Note (And I can tell there will be many, many this season): Paula and Kara Dionovalueadd appear to have coordinated their outfits. Are they two? Seriously.
Elijah Scarlett. Deep ass voice. He should do voice over work. He’s the cutest thing ever!! Can’t sing a lick, bless his heart. But he is a cutie. He was so cute, he made Paula make a valid and useful suggestion. He is magic!
Leah Marie. Seriously, show. No. More. 16. Year. Olds. Hate. So much hate. Haaaaaatttteeeee. It burns. And she loves Kara Diodeathofthisshow. No wonder. Spawn of the devil. Frikkin’ new judge already bringing trouble. She was on some Tracy Flick trip.
Stevie Wright. Well, she was a big old horse face girl and she dressed like a cow. So I thought maybe she would sing like a nightengale? Keep the animal theme alive, Stevie. Well, she was no Etta James. She ain’t got the pipes for that song, sweeties. And what did I just say about 16 year olds? Just say no, show.
Michael Sarver. He-man Oilman. I will not be able to stand him for a whole season. Trust. Cute kids, though. Wait, I take that back. Homeslice can straight up blow. What? I apologize He-man Oilman. You rocked the party.
Bad audition medley. Again. Bored now.
Katrina Darrow. Ok, hype aside, bikini woman is not even cute. And Ryan, no one believed that you were thinking about making out with that girl. And no, she couldn’t sing. She sounded like me in the shower. Mimi will spank that ass and send her home crying on her stripper heels. Ryan has never looked as uncomfortable as he did during that kiss.
And BTW, Ryan, we have not accepted the new judge. Kisses.
Eric Thomas, AKA Sexual Chocolate. I think I love you. I would've loved him even more if he'd actually sung “Greatest Love of All” and then screamed “Sexshul Chocolate” when he was done. Oh my heavens. Paula capping on his tat was hilarious. And what’s up with P-dog's glasses? And Simon. ”Thank you, Sexshul.” Comedy gold, my friends. Sexshul Mom, please don’t give that fool a car. For real.
Brianna Quijada. Cute as a button. Can’t sing, though. But very cute. And Hollywood needs it’s deadweight redshirts.
At this point in the show, I was sick of white Stevie Wonder already.
Deanna Brown. Boring, bland, blonde. Generically decent voice. Whatever. Don’t care about you at all. Next.
Ryan is hilarious though. “Deanna, I love it when you baby sit me.” I love you, tiny, overly groomed man.
Tony Somebody. Oops, Cody Somebody. Weirdo. That’s alright. I like weirdos. I didn’t think he could really sing all that well, though. Sad for him.
Alex Wagner Trugman. Oh, my, how I love geeks. Love the geeks! And he fucking turned it out! He’s so cute. I don’t think he’ll get through Hollywood week, but if he does somehow wind up in the top 24, he could totally fill the Chicken Little/John Stevens/JPL slot. Every now and again, I love a good "Suck it, Simon" contestant, and this fool seems ripe for the Sanjaya-ing. Gooooo, geeks!
Why did Idol do that to that Bon Jovi classic? What did JBJ ever do to you, Simon Fuller? Didn't he come on and play the mentor? Let Jordin murder his song? And this is how you repay him. Hmmph. Fine friend you is.
Scott McIntyre. I hate you. I don’t care if you sing like frikkin’ Pavarotti. Next.
PS, you don’t sing like Pavarotti.
And we’re done. Well, it held my interest for almost the entire two hours. I didn’t switch over to The Biggest Loser even once. New judge sucks tremendous amounts of ass and if I have to hear her sing again, somebody will get cut. But all in all, there've been worse starts to AI. What say you kiddies? In for a penny, in for a pound or is it time for cutting and running? I know I'll be back. I'd even brave KC and the Fivehead for Idol. That's love, y'all.
Seacrest, Out. I miss that.
American Idol S8 Extra Feenin'
Need a reason to go on today, kiddies? Are you finding it as hard to concentrate as I am now that we're so close to the end of our long national nightmare? Has the gap between the end of SYTYCD and AI become almost too much to bear? Here are some goodies to while away the next six hours and change. (All about the Westside, cause that's the best side)
Michael Slezak and the good folks at Idolatry give us a reason to smile again:
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2009/01/idolatry-amer-1.html
(Top Doll is also a must watch. Genius, Slezak, Genius!)
Kara Diowasteoftime tries to defend her life without even coming close to Albert Brooks' levels of funny and clever over on Twop:
http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/telefile/2009/01/american-woman-new-judge-kara.php
(Check out past season recaps while you're there. I highly recommend Carmen Rasmussen and the Seal. Quality snark)
TV Fan is dead. Long live TV Fan. I used to love blogging on that site. Gone too soon. Oh well, another day, another dream dashed, I always say. And you can still enjoy my final recap of S7 which lives on in the cyberspace ether:
http://tvfan1.timesti.aol.com/blogs/post/1144
(Is it wrong to pimp my own self? Well, if it's wrong, I don't wanna be right)
What I'm saying is, it's almost here, kittens. I can make it . . . errrr, I mean, you can make it. I see the giant, silver, anthropomorphic man/woman before me.
Michael Slezak and the good folks at Idolatry give us a reason to smile again:
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2009/01/idolatry-amer-1.html
(Top Doll is also a must watch. Genius, Slezak, Genius!)
Kara Diowasteoftime tries to defend her life without even coming close to Albert Brooks' levels of funny and clever over on Twop:
http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/telefile/2009/01/american-woman-new-judge-kara.php
(Check out past season recaps while you're there. I highly recommend Carmen Rasmussen and the Seal. Quality snark)
TV Fan is dead. Long live TV Fan. I used to love blogging on that site. Gone too soon. Oh well, another day, another dream dashed, I always say. And you can still enjoy my final recap of S7 which lives on in the cyberspace ether:
http://tvfan1.timesti.aol.com/blogs/post/1144
(Is it wrong to pimp my own self? Well, if it's wrong, I don't wanna be right)
What I'm saying is, it's almost here, kittens. I can make it . . . errrr, I mean, you can make it. I see the giant, silver, anthropomorphic man/woman before me.
Monday, January 12, 2009
American Idol S8 Extra The Long Knives
Welcome, friends! The topic at hand is AI and all things AI related. Or, you know, anything else that crosses my pretty little head. If ye be fans, come on in. If ye don't get the title of the damn blog, then get to steppin'. This is not the place for you.
Kittens, I'm on tenterhooks. We are at the pivotal season, no? Well, scratch that. AI jumped the shark round about "And your new American Idol is . . . Ruben Studdard." in Season 2. Ah, S2. Remember the time? So young and innocent then. Now I'm no Claymate so don't get your knickers in a twist (Hey, Simon!) but really, Ruben over Clay? Even I know that ain't right and I'm black. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes. Tenterhooks. Turning point. Blah, blah, blah.
Tomorrow, the world's cutest tiny, closet gay host kicks us off into a season of change where we'll meet Randy, Simon, Paula and Kara WTF? Diowhateverherlastnameis in some No Name/Big Checkbook stadium and watch bad auditions. Or maybe not. Change is afoot. We are promised more good auditions, fewer bad auditions. Simon Fuller is chastened. He's learned his lesson. AI may have gone too far with the mocking of the mentally challenged (or follicularly blessed - though really, aren't they one and the same). So more good auditions. More back story on folks who might actually make the show. More Joy. To which I say, fuck that shit! Nobody watches early round auditions to see good people. We will see good people for about 100 million weeks during the season. We watch early round auditions to see batshit crazy fools like the Bush Baby. We want black girls snapping necks and popping gum and oozing delusion (Maybe that could be this year's coronation song, "Oozin' Delusion". Somebody get on writing that.) and screaming and cussin' and putting up a fuss. We want sheltered white girls with hair down to the floor, flaming gays who paint faeries and have super long fingernails and shrines to AI in their living rooms. We want Paula stalkers, dammit. And then we want to sit and feel superior about how scandalous it all is. We will "Tsk, tsk" with the best of them and bemoan the dumbing down of American culture. And then we will laugh our assess off at 16 year old crack babies. So strike one, already on the Season 8 newness and we're not even out of the gate.
Now, let's get back to Kara Diowhosywhatsit, shall we? Kittens, I don't know her from a hole in the wall and already I don't like her. Nobody puts Paula in the corner. Is she going to be meaner than Simon? More useless than Randy? Crazier than Paula? As if that's even possible!! So, then, tell me what the point is again? I'm sorry, I know AI was worried after last year where they merely destroyed their competition rather than utterly pulverized it, leaving smoking husks of TV shows in its wake, but this has got to be the lamest Cousin Oliver move in decades. AI friends and fans, I vow right now to burn the flame of Kara hatred hot and bright until we rid ourselves of this blight on our show. I don't care how charming, how witty, how sweet she comes off. She could be the next coming of Berry Gordy, she'll get no quarter from me. Unless she gets Randy to actually say something worthwhile this season. Then maybe, maybe she can rise from the seventh to the fifth circle of hell from whence she came. But enough mercy, back to the hating! Hating -2, Season 8 "innovations" - 0.
What am I looking forward to? Well, bringing back things that worked perfectly in the old days. Yes, kiddies, let's bask in the nostalgia. The economy is going over a cliff faster than lemmings on speed, clinging to memories of the good times may be all we have left. So by all means, more Hollywood Week. Drama Queens in a pressure cooker environment with easy access to alcohol and random sex? Yes, please! Bring back the Wild Card Round. Do I have to say Clay Aiken again? It burns. But wild card round rocks like a rocking thing.
Things your loyal blogger is on the fence about? More "behind the scenes" on contestants. Only because, my darlings, I suspect that the tidbits that I'm interested in are not the tidbits that we'll be given by the show. For example, I would've loved to see the dungeon where StageDaddy kept D'Archie locked up between shows last season. Poor, poor Archuleta. Between StageDaddy and the undead husk of Clive Owen, he'll never get free now. Or, another object lesson - What was the actual conversation when the stylist finally confronted David Cook about the fivehead and hideous comb over really like? How about the prank the band pulled on the Colonel to get her to sing "Eight Days a Week" like a crazed lost member of the Chipmunkettes? "Naw, naw, Kristy Lee. You sound good girl. (maniacal laughter) You sound real good." And that's just from last season. Sadly, I don't expect that's what we'll get. We'll wind up with more bullshit puff pieces and more sob stories about single mothers (Sorry, 'Tasia. You know I love you, girl). At any rate, I don't hold out much hope for this novelty act. What say you, friends and fans?
Ah, well, in the end I guess it really doesn't matter. I'm this show's bitch and I know it. I will watch it when it's in it's 200th season and it only comes on in syndication on some third rate local Channel 27 and they have to bring Sinbad back to host along with Mya, a broke ass Jermaine Dupri, fresh off getting fired from heading his fifth urban label, and still Kara Dionobodycares. And I plan to dig into this season and spare no one. Except Simon because he's always right. Just accept that and your life and this season will be much happier, mkay?
Hang on to your mittens, kittens. First show tomorrow!
Kittens, I'm on tenterhooks. We are at the pivotal season, no? Well, scratch that. AI jumped the shark round about "And your new American Idol is . . . Ruben Studdard." in Season 2. Ah, S2. Remember the time? So young and innocent then. Now I'm no Claymate so don't get your knickers in a twist (Hey, Simon!) but really, Ruben over Clay? Even I know that ain't right and I'm black. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes. Tenterhooks. Turning point. Blah, blah, blah.
Tomorrow, the world's cutest tiny, closet gay host kicks us off into a season of change where we'll meet Randy, Simon, Paula and Kara WTF? Diowhateverherlastnameis in some No Name/Big Checkbook stadium and watch bad auditions. Or maybe not. Change is afoot. We are promised more good auditions, fewer bad auditions. Simon Fuller is chastened. He's learned his lesson. AI may have gone too far with the mocking of the mentally challenged (or follicularly blessed - though really, aren't they one and the same). So more good auditions. More back story on folks who might actually make the show. More Joy. To which I say, fuck that shit! Nobody watches early round auditions to see good people. We will see good people for about 100 million weeks during the season. We watch early round auditions to see batshit crazy fools like the Bush Baby. We want black girls snapping necks and popping gum and oozing delusion (Maybe that could be this year's coronation song, "Oozin' Delusion". Somebody get on writing that.) and screaming and cussin' and putting up a fuss. We want sheltered white girls with hair down to the floor, flaming gays who paint faeries and have super long fingernails and shrines to AI in their living rooms. We want Paula stalkers, dammit. And then we want to sit and feel superior about how scandalous it all is. We will "Tsk, tsk" with the best of them and bemoan the dumbing down of American culture. And then we will laugh our assess off at 16 year old crack babies. So strike one, already on the Season 8 newness and we're not even out of the gate.
Now, let's get back to Kara Diowhosywhatsit, shall we? Kittens, I don't know her from a hole in the wall and already I don't like her. Nobody puts Paula in the corner. Is she going to be meaner than Simon? More useless than Randy? Crazier than Paula? As if that's even possible!! So, then, tell me what the point is again? I'm sorry, I know AI was worried after last year where they merely destroyed their competition rather than utterly pulverized it, leaving smoking husks of TV shows in its wake, but this has got to be the lamest Cousin Oliver move in decades. AI friends and fans, I vow right now to burn the flame of Kara hatred hot and bright until we rid ourselves of this blight on our show. I don't care how charming, how witty, how sweet she comes off. She could be the next coming of Berry Gordy, she'll get no quarter from me. Unless she gets Randy to actually say something worthwhile this season. Then maybe, maybe she can rise from the seventh to the fifth circle of hell from whence she came. But enough mercy, back to the hating! Hating -2, Season 8 "innovations" - 0.
What am I looking forward to? Well, bringing back things that worked perfectly in the old days. Yes, kiddies, let's bask in the nostalgia. The economy is going over a cliff faster than lemmings on speed, clinging to memories of the good times may be all we have left. So by all means, more Hollywood Week. Drama Queens in a pressure cooker environment with easy access to alcohol and random sex? Yes, please! Bring back the Wild Card Round. Do I have to say Clay Aiken again? It burns. But wild card round rocks like a rocking thing.
Things your loyal blogger is on the fence about? More "behind the scenes" on contestants. Only because, my darlings, I suspect that the tidbits that I'm interested in are not the tidbits that we'll be given by the show. For example, I would've loved to see the dungeon where StageDaddy kept D'Archie locked up between shows last season. Poor, poor Archuleta. Between StageDaddy and the undead husk of Clive Owen, he'll never get free now. Or, another object lesson - What was the actual conversation when the stylist finally confronted David Cook about the fivehead and hideous comb over really like? How about the prank the band pulled on the Colonel to get her to sing "Eight Days a Week" like a crazed lost member of the Chipmunkettes? "Naw, naw, Kristy Lee. You sound good girl. (maniacal laughter) You sound real good." And that's just from last season. Sadly, I don't expect that's what we'll get. We'll wind up with more bullshit puff pieces and more sob stories about single mothers (Sorry, 'Tasia. You know I love you, girl). At any rate, I don't hold out much hope for this novelty act. What say you, friends and fans?
Ah, well, in the end I guess it really doesn't matter. I'm this show's bitch and I know it. I will watch it when it's in it's 200th season and it only comes on in syndication on some third rate local Channel 27 and they have to bring Sinbad back to host along with Mya, a broke ass Jermaine Dupri, fresh off getting fired from heading his fifth urban label, and still Kara Dionobodycares. And I plan to dig into this season and spare no one. Except Simon because he's always right. Just accept that and your life and this season will be much happier, mkay?
Hang on to your mittens, kittens. First show tomorrow!
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