Creepy. Like a razorblade in an apple at Halloween.
Well let’s hear it for Andrew Lloyd Webber Week! Probably the dumbest idea in American Idol history second to only the decision to hire and then not subsequently fire Paula Abdul five minutes later. Has there been a more pompous mentor like, ever? With a weirder face? At least Mariah Carey can carry a tune! After seeing all of the songs that this goof has produced and then finding out that he can’t even perform them, but can instead sit awkwardly on a chair and talk to Ryan about how great he is and how poorly some of the kids did with his beloved material, I have decided that ANYONE can be a guest mentor. Especially if you wrote a play that takes place entirely on roller skates!
Warning: You will never get this 28 seconds of life back.
Syesha started off the night in better form than she’s ever been. Cleavage? check. Sparkles in her hair? Not today, we’ve got to get “animated!”Saucy red dress? Check. STANDING on the piano? Um…yes, apparently. Doesn’t everybody do that? We also learned that she likes being somebody else when she sings. I like her better as somebody else too. Somebody sitting at home watching the remaining four weeks in her bathrobe. However, I do have to hand it to Syesha, it’s apparent that her future will soon follow in the footsteps of Fantasia, Diana DeGarmo, Clay Aiken, Tamyra Gray and any other loser err…former contestant that has ditched their dreams of having a recording career and instead are trying to make it on Broadway! Good for you, Eesh! She really knocked ‘em dead and still found herself in the bottom two. However, if you’ve been following my scientific formula B+d=1mw (Boobs in the display case=another week on the show!) there was never really any doubt.
David Archuleta did an interesting take on a Phantom of the Opera song that I can no longer name. In fact, A&W just couldn’t get over the fact that David (a boy) was singing a song written for a girl! How shocking and unexpected! I mean, when he wrote it, it was clearly for a girl! Who was in the process of being seduced by a subterannean lothario with a horribly disfigured face! How does this mancub come along with the audacity to attempt a composition clearly intended for the fairer sex! These ostentatious Americans! It almost appeared that his eyes were about to pop out of the doughy folds of his face as he slowly realized just what was going on here. What’s next, a play that takes place on roller skates? Life size cats singing? Yes.
Hey Mom! I made it! I’m on Broadway! Oh… well, I play a cat. A life-size cat. Mom?
For me, I thought that David started out with quite a nice arrangement, with an acoustic guitar accompaniment and a pleasant Radio Disney vibe. I then promptly fell asleep. The only thing that did keep me awake was seeing how hard little David tried to follow the Web’s “two pieces” of advice. To keep his gorgeous little doe eyes open, and to keep his precious fawn eyes open! Ha! It’s a LloydWebber joke! So instead of “getting lost in the song” as our little David is wont to do, he instead intently stared at the camera and looked like my grandmother trying to make her way to her LASIK appointment at the mall. All squinty, breathless and confused.
Just doing what he’s told
But at least he tried to follow our mentor’s advice. (for the flip side, see Jason Castro.) P.S. how come none of the judges pointed out that D.A. messed up the words again! For the third time! They just let that slide on by, and the producers even helped by going to a random shot of the back of David’s head right when the flub occurred. If that had happened to Carly or Syesha, we’d STILL be hearing about it. Like Hillary Clinton, it just wouldn’t go away.
I enjoy watching movies. It’s true. Instead of protecting the people in Nakatomi Towers myself barefoot, I would much rather watch John McClain do it for me. Or since I won’t be able to take on the Cobra Kai dojo by myself using a few moves that the old guy from ‘Happy Days’ has taught me while doing his housework, I’ll watch Danny do it for me. And let’s be honest, back then Elisabeth Shue was crazy hot and totally worth all the trouble.
Karate Kid Elisabeth Shue = hot.
These days, when I need a movie to entertain my brain, I now use my new friend, redbox.
Now, I used to be a Hollywood Video man because they weren’t as dumb as Blockbuster and would still let me rent films even when that late fee from 1985’s “The Last Dragon” keeps popping up every time I visit the store. When they ask me if I’d like to pay it now, I could simply say ”let it ride” and they would do it!
I’ve tried some others too. I dabbled in Netflix for a spell. It’s a great idea and couldn’t be any easier, but I’ve determined that I don’t watch enough movies to warrant the investment. My first year after paying more than $300 for the right to watch and keep “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo” for 74 days, I decided I should look elsewhere for my entertainment options. Especially when I can spend that money on tasty burritos instead.
But then my friendly redbox showed up at my local McDonald’s and I have discovered a proverbial movie renting nirvana. No longer do I need to interact with an annoying human pestering me about, well…anything. I tap the screen a few times and am able to walk out with a new release (new releases available every Tuesday) for roughly the price of air. Because with readily available promotional codes on the Interweb, and the free codes they send to my cell phone every Monday, there’s a veritable free cornucopia going on. They’re giving these movies away! I can select my movie and keep it until 9 p.m. the next night without having to pay a thing. Nothing. A knuckle sandwich. A kick to the BabyMaker. Of course, once I miss the 9 p.m. deadline the next day (practically guaranteed) I get another night’s rental for a buck o nine. But let’s be honest, that’s a price that almost any movie is worth. Even that crappier than crap “Artificial Intelligence” which makes me angry to even type.
Granted, I can’t rent the classic movies of my youth that have inspired me to greatness. If I want to see Clubber Lang come on to Rocky’s wife in “Rocky III” (one of the top movies of all time) I’ll just need to wait for it to show up on TNT. Usually the wait time is approximately twelve minutes.
And if you want to get super crazy, you can also rent a movie at one redbox, and then return it at another. Try doing that at Blockbuster. They’ll be happy to call you to come pick up your movie that you deposited at the wrong store so that you can rectify your own mistake. I’m the customer, boy-o! You fix my mistake for me! Now, I can rent a DVD in Las Vegas and return it in Ogden if I so desire. And I do. Sometimes. So if you haven’t already (and based on the lines on a Friday or Saturday night, you have) meet my new friend redbox, won’t you? And let’s see if we can bankrupt Blockbuster together!
Proudly showing off her RIGHT side. The Wind Machine is in her car.
Hello reader! I welcome all two of you. So how great has it been to have these guest mentors helping our little kids along? I mean, I can barely contain myself for Broadway next week and Andrew Lloyd Webber! It’s just too bad that Danny Noriega and David Hernandez are gone from the show. I’m sure they would have been able to do something really special with “Cats” or “Starlight Express.” Or some other completely gay Broadway show.
But let’s talk about Mariah Carey. Now there’s a mentor with some class, attitude and zero hangups about her body image! I mean, it’s not bad enough that she’s so ashamed of the left side of her face that she forbids it from being photographed. Or that she travels with her own wind machine to softly blow her hair while she performs with her bedazzled microphone stand, but the woman can’t even stand there next to a piano while mentoring our young charges without habitually striking a pose! I wonder how Ms. Carey is at home? Does she keep her hands sternly on her hips while she jogs on her diamond-encrusted treadmill? Does she keep nervously running her fingers through her hair while she snarfs down Macaroni and Cheese at the kitchen sink while watching Dr. Phil and preparing to puke it all back up? (The Morsel Diet. I heard about it on Oprah.) What position does she assume when she does housework commands her Colombian workers to Swiffer a little bit more around her feet? These are the things I wonder as she stands awkardly in her spandex clothing and self-tanning lotion while air-hugging each Idol so she won’t actually have to touch any of them.
Sadly, I just discovered that Ms. Mariah has had more #1 songs than anyone ever. That’s right, with the soon to be “classic” “Touch My Body” she passes Elvis as the person on Earth with the most number 1 songs. Luckily, the Beatles still have more #1’s as a group. But I’m sure the soon to be formed Noriega-Hernandez Bunch could vie for the title in about 20 years.
However, musically this week, we had some great stuff. I didn’t even think about Michael Johns more than three or four times. In the first five minutes. I miss that swarthy Australian and his unfortunate neckwear. Especially when Sweet, Little David Archuleta© starts off the show with the same. Song. He. Does. Every. Freaking. Time. How come the judges keep applauding him and encouraging him when he pulls out the same Disney Channel crap week after week? It’s even gotten so bad that I find myself counting the times he licks his lips during each song (5 times in 1:32) or wondering where he found such tiny little leather pants. The Herve Villachaize Store–Clothes for Da Plane Man? (Ha!) If he were an article of clothing right now he’d be a cardigan. Or a blouse from Cold Water Creek.
Do these men shop at the same store?
Next up was Carly who actually looked and sounded ok. I’m thinking that covering up her (Evil geisha? Flaming Goat? Chipmunk Senator in Flowing Robes? I still have no idea ) tattoo was a great idea from the stylist and producers. I could actually concentrate on her angry singing, furrowed brow and oversized neck pendant that looked like it contained the ashes of some dead, Irish relative as she cranked out a rather unfortunately typical Mariah Carey song. Not surprisingly, she got ripped by the judges as they’ve apparently determined they need to get rid of her soon as possible as America isn’t embracing her as much as they probably thought they would. I mean, they’re even showing her husband and his facial decorations for more than four seconds in FULL lighting. That with her increasing desperation every week means that she will soon be going the way of the buffalo. Or pirates. Or possibly Jimmy Hoffa, buried in a concrete column in Giants Stadium. Section 3, Row 158.
With Uncle Pete around my neck, I am noticably more chipper!
Ok. Let’s be frank. This show, “The Hills” is kind of like watching a house burn down. It’s kind of fun at first and strangely fascinating while it’s going on, but when it’s over you realize you have nowhere to sleep as you just watched your own house burn to the ground.
I hate myself while watching “The Hills” but I have found that I can’t stop. If someone could help or slap me, I would appreciate it. However, while hating/watching this week, I decided to turn a critical eye to the scripted “lives” of these people, and I realized that there’s all sorts of knowledge nuggets that can be gleaned from these shallow Angelenos. Instantly I became a better person.
- Finding a job isn’t that hard – Apparently it’s super easy to find a “really cool” job in Los Angeles. Simply quit fashion school that you really weren’t into that much anyway, walk into the Bolthouse offices and say you want a job. I’m sure having a camera crew behind you is helpful, but if you’re Heidi, by season three you will have been promoted and can spend all day talking to your “boyfriend” behind your big computer that is rarely on. Oh yes, and you can spend all day at the office talking to the new annoying girl with bangs that popped up out of nowhere about how seemingly messed up your life is.
- Or, if you’re Lauren and a bit tired of Teen Vogue, simply tag along with Whitney at her new job that she worked really hard to get and shortly, Karen Cutrone, the scariest indivdual since Tammy Faye Bakker, will say that she’d like to offer you a permanent position. I’m sure that Whitney didn’t mind this AT ALL. Not only is Lauren naturally prettier, and actually goes out on dates, but now she’s horning in on her big career? I think we’ll be seeing Whitney on “Cops” shortly enough. If that show is even still on. I don’t know since I’m wasting my life watching this garbage.
- The Only Good Ideas are Whitney’s – From “I like the pants” to “Go, go, go models” no one besides Whitney has any good ideas. Especially the poor publicist that has probably been working at People’s Revolution for five plus years. She will soon hit the street and Whitney will take over. Look forward to other ideas like “let’s have a salad for lunch” and ”I like dogs.” Please help us all.
- A “Relationship Vacation” is Not a Myth. It is Possible! Tired of your live-in boyfriend with huge teeth, money for days and seemingly no job to support your ridiculous lifestyle? Simply demand a relationship vacation! Kick him out of your shared apartment, run away to Colorado, act like you hate him, and then spend time with girls that conversely hate you. When he shows up at the same club (because there’s only like 3,000 of them in the metro LA area) promptly confront him and ask why he’s interrupting your vacay. When he argues with you, demand to talk dramatically in his 7-Series BMW. And then try to make your new plastic face convey some emotion. It’s hard with all of that Botox and you’re only 23.
Heidi manages a forehead crinkle
- You Can’t Really Talk to Someone Unless You’re Eating Lunch with Them – Have you noticed that all “real” conversations take place at some fantastic eatery? It’s not enough to talk about how Audrina should NEVER be friends with Heidi, because for some reason Audrina can’t make up her own mind about stuff, but it’s more effective when you’re at a different lunch destination every single time. I’m sure as soon as they yell “Cut” that they quickly take the food away so that our girls don’t put on any extra pounds. Eating is actually very 2006.
- Going to Clubs is the Other Thing to Do in LA - And once inside the club, you must sit. The whole time. And have a conversation with subtitles. Don’t even think of dancing or enjoying the music that is playing. Instead, discuss how big of a cheater that Brodie is. Or how he got to be named Brodie in the first place. His real name is probably Roger. Once you have sat for 20 minutes, promptly leave. You must either be quickly offended or have to leave because someone you hate has shown up at the same club at the same time! This never fails to work. Every week.
- Audrina=Dumb as a Post - From relationships to speaking parts on this show, Audrina has mastered the spacy, vacant look. Occasionally she’ll spurt out a ”Like, Lauren, you will not, like believe this. But I just had, like a thought.” Then she passes out from trying to read the cue card. No wonder Lauren tells her what to do!
I have grown smarter from watching this show.
Inspirational. Like Burger King is Fine Dining.
Now don’t get me wrong. I think the whole “Idol Gives Back” thing is a great idea. Especially if it can help some of those kids that Miley and Billy Bob visited learn how to read. They may not be able to afford books, but I bet you that everyone one of those little spider monkeys know exactly who Hannah Montana is and her doppelganger Ms. Cyrus, and Disney is a friggin’ premium channel! (By the way, I heard that Miley will be a billionaire–with a B–by age 20! Couldn’t you drop a hundred and a case of Top Ramen on your way out of the trailer?) That aside, I don’t think that giving to charity should be interwoven with the crushing of one’s dream. Even when that dream is to warble the falsetto part of Aerosmith’s “Dream On” horribly off key whilst wearing a ridiculous ascot for the SECOND WEEK IN A ROW!
Are you kidding me Michael Johns?
I could see by your face that you were shocked to be in the bottom three, much less to be escorted off of the show that is helping you to achieve your dream, but help me here, sport-o. When your stylist was all “You know what I’m thinking? Ascot. Again. But this time in yellow. It really seemed to put the attention on your face.” Of course it did, because for the entire duration of the song, I found myself saying, “Is that a freaking cravatte around his neck?” Apparently to Michael John’s stylist, it is indeed 1912, and we should all be wearing top hats and large colorful towels around our necks. On our way to the auto factory where we’re going to work on this new thing called an “assembly line.” It’s great for Monopoly but for someone trying to be a pop singer? ? I blame you, yellow horrid piece of cloth.
However, Mr. Johns I will miss you for purely selfish reasons. Not only were you a speedbump to actual entertainment like David Cook every week, but no longer is watching an episode of American Idol an automatic trip to Makeout City. Party of Two. On my couch. I’ll now need to get my action the old fashioned way. By buying shoes. Thanks, Mike.
Seacrest is Not a Nice Man.
And for all his posing as a “nice guy”, Ryan Seacrest is a veritable cold-blooded killer. A ninja in sheep’s clothing. A Joey Buttafuoco to your Amy Fisher. A guy named Roger living in a van down by the river. For a moment there we all probably thought that Mr. Johns was going to have a week’s reprieve from the executioner. After all, that’s the precedent that was set last year whilst we were “giving back.” But like a governor who doesn’t call death row on the white courtesy phone before midnight, Ryan pulled the rug out from under us and announced that yes, Michael would indeed be leaving us this week. Have anything to say about the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus or the world actually being flat for that matter while you’re at it, Johnny Ruthless? You must have had a miserable childhood with very sharp, painful toys.
