:: Friday, February 27, 2004 ::
This Post Will Make No Sense At All. I Promise You.:: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 ::
American Idol has made me L.A.Z.Y. I've somehow reduced myself to one real post a week, which, while offering me a nice little vacation from my earlier angst over lack of fodder, has the sad effect of rendering me useless to everyone I know.
Because I've just stopped thinking altogether.
Ah, well.
Allow me to catch you up a bit. As you know, Speaksy and I have been embroiled in a battle for a sweet little house on Main Street, USA. While "battle" might seem a harsh word to our realtor (who assures us we have it quite easy), any passionate discussion involving window coverings is going to trip my nuisance whistle.
I mean, they're window coverings. They thought I'd care about their hideous red drapes and matching mini blinds? Hell, as soon as they left the premises we were going to rip them all down anyway. They might last the first night, if only to keep our new neighbors from watching the naked yoga show.
If I had a naked yoga show.
And if Home Depot mysteriously vanished at sundown.
Still. Window coverings. I almost fought them on principle. Maybe instead of window coverings I'd make an issue over the pink area rug in the living room.
All cats need a place to throw up.
But fight we did not, so on March 30, Speaksy and I shall become, and forever after be known as, poor.
Of course, that's as long as one of the dogs doesn't suddenly lose all his hair overnight, or the car spontaneously combust in the cold driveway, either of which would seriously dent our savings. Indeed, our vet called just tonight to not-so-sweetly remind us that all three dogs are due in on March 4th, and all three cats are woefully behind on their shots (even though the only time they approach the Great Outdoors is in a carrier on the way to the vet, a process involving more vomit than a Tilt-a-Whirl with a chili dog vendor for a line monitor).
Too bad. The vet will just have to wait to put in his new pool until April.
When we plan to win the lottery.
I'm not stressed. Really. However, I am going to power down now to save some money on this month's electric bill.
I look better by candlelight anyway.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:14 PM [+] ::
...
I Should Be Making A Lot More Money Than This:: Tuesday, February 24, 2004 ::
FREE, Fox! I'm giving you all this advice for FREE, and you're too stupid to use it?
Okay. Sorry. Backing up the truck.
Tonight on American Idol, we learn Ryan needs a new writer, The Kiss 2004 is rebuffed - and regained, Latoya and Amy sit next to each other on that hideous blue couch (really shaking my confidence for about a minute), the non-Juliet-reading Triumvirate call their faves: Latoya London and Sheena Easton.
And John Peter Jingleheimer Schmitt launches a surprise attack.
Oh, ho ho.
Skipping through the Ryan schtick (I'm trying to cut down on cursing for Lent; is it working?), let's call the night over at Latoya and Amy.
Jaded Journalist, my freshly oiled and massaged butt.
In other news, The Girl Down the Street was kind enough to alert me to this stunning Japanese trend:
Apparently these garments are not see-through, but the image has been painted on the fabric so the appearance is the wearer isn't sporting her period-granny-panties.
Brill.
Though I would have gone for something a little sexier. And less...bunchy.
Happy Wednesday, everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 10:18 PM [+] ::
...
In Delirium:: Monday, February 23, 2004 ::
I may or may not have been party to a conversation earlier today involving the U.S. Supreme Court, midget tossing, a brazen hussy and a dumb girl with gigantimous breasts, all overheard by our company's conservative Christian CEO.
I have a pretty good fever.
Please take this into consideration while reading this recap.
Because, good God, the whole show all I could think was how Lord Ryan makes a good King of the Arctic People while Paula looks dressed for the pool.
I'm just going to start in here. Who knows how long I have before the hallucinations take over and I mistake my keyboard for a baseball bat.
01 - Elizabeth Letendre - I Wanna Dance (with Somebody)
I hate her voice. It's Ray Romano in a dress, I'm telling you. Except I'm pretty sure Ray's legs would have looked better with that length and frill.
Randy thinks it was "hot", Paula thinks she bangs, and Simon doesn't think she's good enough.
The above is your first clue that the lurker person's negative comment from last week didn't make me a nicer person.
02 - Eric Yoder - In the Still of the Night
This is Simon's "Clay clone," but to me he's more of a ditto than a Dolly. Remember all that blue ink bleeding onto your fingers? Yeah, that.
Randy says he brought it home, Paula just says, "good", and Simon thinks he has a very good voice but it still Clay clone, sans personality.
03 - Amy Adams - Power of Love
This girl has a huge fan following, and with good reason, I think. I really like her voice, even if she's winging sharps like Chinese throwing stars. Best evidence she's a winner: "I watched the show like a stalker last year." Me, too! EEEEE!
She should lose the falsetto, though.
Randy likes her personality and her voice, Paula calls her phenomenal, and Simon thinks she's cabaret.
I hate it when he says that. New word, please.
Cut to an ad with a plug from Ryan for next Monday night's bonus show: American Idol: Pardon Us While We Bow Down to William Hung Some More.
Didn't we all call that weeks and weeks ago? So why is Dateline just now catching on? Dude, it's over already. Y'all should pay more attention.
To me.
Especially since I just spilled coffee all down the front of my flannel sheep pajamas. Boo hiss.
04 - John Peter Lewis - Tiny Dancer
It's a velvet jacket with a Jem t-shirt under it. Been talking to Ryan much? That's not what I was going to say though. I was going to say:
Ponch! Where's Ponch? I LOVE PONCH!!
I like John, too; always did. I like this version, too, especially if he comes with a badge and a nightstick.
I've gone horribly off course here.
John chose a bad song for a nice voice. Randy thinks he's all right, Paula says "nice job" and Simon thinks he'd win American With a Good Voice, but that's about it.
05 - Charly Lowry - Chain of Fools
It seems like there aren't enough vowels in her name, doesn't it? I hate this song but really like Charly's voice. I also like the dress. And the shoes. And seriously covet her ability to navigate in said shoes.
Randy says she wasn't on tonight (but the shoes!), Paula says it wasn't "tight" and Simon agrees with Paula and advises Charly to "let go".
Juliet says she shouldn't talk. Ever.
06 - Jonah Moananu - No Fucking Idea
What kind of lame-ass song is this? Jonah's voice is very smooth and I like it, but that song's killing me!
My rendition of No Fucking Idea:_________________
Randy doesn't believe Jonah showed his range (ya think?), Paula says his voice sounded good and Simon just doesn't think he's very good at all.
Really. What a bad song.
Although, looking at the talent this week versus last, I'll need to consult an old TV Guide to find out why they stuck all the boners in one show. There must have been something pretty interesting on another network last week. That, or the guy flipping coins to make the line-up should be shot at dawn.
07 - Leah Labelle - I Have Nothing
Okay, I have some issues with this chick. First off, she's 17 and wearing a black corset with aqua shoes. Leave the heavy lifting to Paula, Leah. Second, yeah, her voice is great, but her arms are flapping about like an air traffic controller on the tarmac in a tornado.
But that's not why I don't like her. I don't know why I don't like her. If I did, I'd tell you.
You know I would.
Randy likes her, though, as does Paula (you're a star!). Simon? Well, he has the same problem I do.
Something there just ain't right.
Frankly, people? I don't need to know what it is. I'm crossing my fingers we'll never have to care again.
08 - Latoya London - All By Myself
When she starts singing, I write down, "her voice makes me want to whisper." By the time she's finished I just want to stand up.
So I do.
And Speaksy scurries off to find the Nyquil.
But Latoya's amazing performance is either true, or a mass effort at hypnosis, because the studio audience and two-thirds of the panel stand up, too.
Randy and Paula just can't say enough, and Simon calls it a "superb, outstanding performance".
She just kicked everybody's ass.
So I'm going to go on and predict tomorrow night's winners. If we're half as smart as our dismal national test scores say we are, we'll vote in Latoya London, and Amy Adams' fan base is already laying on their autodialers.
We might just have ourselves a show.
Good night, everyone! Wish me luck fending off fever-induced CHiPs dreams!
Juliet
PS - Okay, this recap scores about a 3 out of 10 for flow and substance. Come to think of it, the show was kind of like that, too, but that's no excuse.
I think Eric Yoder may have ruined my mojo. Or maybe Leah Labelle.
Could be a conspiracy...
:: happy hour begins at 9:52 PM [+] ::
...
On Some Level, I Guess I Always Knew This Post Would Come:: Wednesday, February 18, 2004 ::
I passed a car today with fuzzy dice hanging off the rearview mirror, and it reminded me of a conversation I had this morning with a friend about underwear.
(Don't ask me how that train of thought went. The best thing is just to get on it.)
Underwear is a funny thing. The more you pay for it, the less time it takes for it to disintegrate. This leads married women to wear a lot of cotton.
With teacups on them.
Well, maybe that's just me.
You may also have a drawer packed with folded scraps of satin and lace, but you rotate the same ten pairs and leave the rest for weeks when you get behind on the laundry. Old friends are the best friends.
And does anyone else have a special set of period panties? You know the ones: those ubercomfortable, two-sizes-too-big grandma panties that no man in his right mind could call sexy? (Which is fine by you, because if he touches you, you might lunge at him with your fork, which would put you back on the dating scene just when you're getting to wear your comfortable underwear again. So you don't want do that.)
As long as we're on the subject of foundation garments, let's spend a moment with thongs. You may love thongs, but only certain ones and only on some days, and you might not know it's not a thong day until it's too late and you're already at work. And the poor night custodians will find your thong in the "feminine hygiene" bin bolted to the side of the stall.
Which is better than some random person finding any part of your underwear on the floor after it fell out of your pant leg.
Sometimes I envy men, with their "tighty-whities" and "boxer shorts" and "boxer briefs", none of which will give you a wedgie unless you fall victim to some particularly rough play, in which case you're probably wearing a jock strap anyway. Asshole. Although I never understood how it worked with the boxers under pants - doesn't that feel weird?
I'm sure some of you will tell me you eschew panties altogether in favor of a more "natural feel", except I don't have any pants whose seams would feel "natural" to my sensitive girl parts and wearing a skirt would get too drafty. And possibly BasicInstinct-y. And I'm not really into all that.
At work, anyway.
Most days.
In conclusion, the point of this entry is to remind everyone that fuzzy dice are a mistake, and if you happen to settle for a man who would hang them from his rearview mirror, go ahead and give him your pretty, cut-off-your-circulation-at-the-tops-of-your-thighs panties 'cause they'll end up replacing the dice and you won't have to wear them anymore.
Also, hide your forks.
Thank you,
Juliet Speaks
:: happy hour begins at 8:54 PM [+] ::
...
Simon Has Cramps and So Do I. Simon Has Cramps and So Do I. Simon Has Cramps and So Do I, and No One Really Cares:: Tuesday, February 17, 2004 ::
I can name THAT tune in about a note and a half.
It's Wednesday night, and that means another Ryan Seacrest Drama Hour, except thank the Lord it doesn't actually last that long.
Of course, in perception time, it's about Sunday afternoon right now.
Anyway.
For the first third of the program we watch the judges be all mopey. Why don't we do something a little more constructive with our time.
You have ten minutes to make up a song using the tune from Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. GO!
You're humming it now, aren't you? Hehehe...
For the next portion of the program Ryan yanks kids off the blue couch as follows:
Noel - Toe up
Jesus (insert heathen comment here)
Lisa makes it in, and I think if the camera would have stayed in the red room we would have had a nice moment of parental pukeage.
Kara - Pfft.
Camile's good. And weepy. Okay.
Bri's hair evidently overwhelmed us last night
Matthew joins the Winner's Circle, and
Marisa exits, stage who cares
The first person admitted to the Hall of Ten - or Twelve - or Fifty-Seven, depending on the season, I guess - is Camile, who promptly bursts into tears. At least tonight she has an excuse for that look of torture.
For some reason the crying makes me like her more.
What do you think that says about me?
I think it says that I'm the type of person who puts mean songs like Henry the Eighth into the heads of innocent bystanders.
Like you.
Disagree?
I'M HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM!
HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM, I AM!
I GOT MARRIED TO THE WIDOW NEXT DOOR.
SHE'S BEEN MARRIED SEVEN TIMES BEFORE
AND EVERY ONE WAS A HENRY (HENRY!)
NOT A WILLIE OR A SAM (OR A SAM!)
I'M THE EIGHTH OLD MAN, I'M HENRY!
HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM!
SECOND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST!
I'm really hoping Jon Peter Whatever sings that next Tuesday. Doesn't it seem like his kind of song?
Not Matthew, though, who finally ascends to the top of the show while Lisa the bar girl slinks off camera. He's on the edge of crying, too, and I'm feeling a little bad now about that Henry the Eighth thing.
But only a little.
So!
Twinkle, twinkle, little star...
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:20 PM [+] ::
...
Whangdepootenawah:: Monday, February 16, 2004 ::
Yes.
It's American Idol, the Why-William-Hung-Will-Make-More-Money-than-Any-of-You Edition.
I can't believe I ate the whole thing.
Who the hell are all these people? And why does Ryan Seacrest get more, "Tell her what's she's won, Johnny!" on us every week? By the end of this round he'll be introducing everyone as the Tonight Show Band.
Also, I can't identify most of these songs and I have PMS. So, you know, caveat emptor and all that crap.
Let's do it.
01 - Matt Rogers
I'm pretty sure this person isn't the one googling my site for those pantyhose+pumps references, but I could be mistaken. I've been a Matt fan for a while - the Rose Bowl references notwithstanding - but tonight he's sounding a little bit like one of those carnie Matterhorn rides.
You're just sure it's going to fly off the tracks and kill you any minute.
But it doesn't.
Randy's not feeling it, Paula USED to love him and Simon gives him a three out of 10.
Don't cry, Matthew. You can take him.
02 - Briana "Porcupine" Ramirez-Rial
Suspenders went out in the eighties, and her hair looks like she stuck her head in an ice box.
I don't want to talk about her voice.
I'm just not ready yet.
Randy thinks she didn't show us her talent, Paula likes her voice but not her disappearing personality, and Simon says, "Whoopee."
No exclamation point.
(What, no commercial here? I gotta pee already!)
03 - Noel Roman, who dreamed of being famous
Past tense, Noel. This sounds like a bad Westlife audition, and I'm stuck with that one until Speaksy points out the sky and clouds background they give him.
I am so on a tangent now. We hum the Greatest American Hero theme song and I can't help but think of my friend R, who has dreams he's flying, except he flies sitting up and feet first.
Oh, right. Sorry.
Randy: "Terrible."
Paula: "Where's your personality?"
Simon: "Excruciating."
Speaksy: "NOwayinEL"
Finally a potty break, in which we compare tonight's show with some seven-hour Wagner.
Go, Wagner.
04 - Kara Master
She's coding! Quick, bring in the crash cart!
You can't run a vacuum cleaner on a triple-A battery, sweetheart, which is the long way of saying she isn't even up to suck.
Randy says it wasn't for him, Paula plays nice about the difficult song (without a huge voice, which I think she was hoping Kara wouldn't notice she said) and Simon? "Terrible."
I should just drag out my Simon bobblehead doll tonight. Let him speak for all of us.
05 - Lisa Leuschner
I don't know what the hell this song is, but she's singing it all right. Unfortunately I can't shake the feeling there should be wisps of smoke in the air and water rings on all the tables.
However, she is the best so far, and the judges all tell her so.
Is this really the best we can do?
06 - Jesus Roman
Yes, apparently she is the best we can do. The most intriguing thing about Jesus is the thing on his sock. Speaksy and I debate whether it is a leopard or a tuna while Jesus whines and generally slaughters an already painful tune.
Randy's cringing, Paula attributes the whole debacle to low self-esteem, and Simon wishes for a good KO.
At this point that ElectraWoman and DynaGirl rerun on TVLand is seriously calling to me.
(It's okay. I'm taping it.)
07 - Camile Velasco from Hawaii
You know, her voice might be all right, but if she weren't so damn skinny I'd think there was someone behind her with a tazer gun. Could this girl be in any more pain?
Could I?
Randy misses hip hop girl, Paula calls her unique and Simon thinks she has the best potential of anyone tonight.
Another ringing endorsement.
On the other hand, her net shirt plays like a hypnosis tape on our 5th grader of a television. Mesmerizing.
08 - Marisa Joy, thank God it's over.
I wonder if she has it in her to sing one nice note. There's so much fluff in there I'm bored to death, and that's saying a lot after the last hour.
Randy thinks she was okay, Paula compliments her eyes and Simon may like her voice but hates the Crouching Tiger thing.
Stand up straight, girl.
Not that I'd have voted for you if you did.
"Whangdepootenawah - In the Ojibwa tongue, disaster; an unexpected affliction that strikes hard." - Ambrose Bierce, from The Devil's Dictionary.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:56 PM [+] ::
...
Romance:: Friday, February 13, 2004 ::
Please pardon my tardiness; we've just put in a bid on a house and the only words I can use to describe that experience are, "what have we done?"
So let's talk about something else.
A few weeks ago I wrote about a luncheon that included a woman whose relationship status could best be described as "in limbo." In this case, limbo means halfway between dating and engaged - the conversation has been had, promises made, but thus far no official proclamation of betrothal has occurred.
He ain't asked her yet.
But he plans to do so, and soon, or at least that's what she heard last fall. "Soon," he said. "When you least expect it."
So they went on a cruise over her birthday in December.
There was Christmas.
And New Year's.
And again he said, "soon. When you least expect it."
But expect it she did.
So when Valentine's Day rolled around and our teasing hero took fair lady out for dinner, she held out hope that THIS would be the day.
He reached over the table for her hand, and she gasped with delight. He smiled, and said, "There's something I want to tell you." She barely held back her tears of joy as he gazed into her eyes, and spoke these words:
Baby,
instead
of
buying
you
an
engagement
ring
I
paid
off
my
student
loans.
They heard her screaming in Tallahassee.
Later, she reflected on the nights she spent praying that her previous boyfriend would miraculously transform himself into a responsible, bill-paying adult and cease to be the notorious bankruptcy-in-training he was.
That thudding in the night is the sound of her kicking the living shit out of herself for wasting that wish.
It sure isn't the headboard hitting the wall. Oh, not in her house.
Not for a long time, I think.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 11:13 PM [+] ::
...
A Bit of Housekeeping:: Wednesday, February 11, 2004 ::
Do you ever feel overwhelmed by all the "stuff" in your life?
That's me right now.
With the blog, the show recaps, househunting, work and a project I'm doing with Lola, I'm feeling more like a platypus in hip waders than an actual human being these days. If I could just let go of one thing, just one, I'd be all right.
Stupid job.
So, I'm sorry I missed you last night - not that I had anything in particular to share with you, but I'm sorry nonetheless. Lola says hi, though.
Anyway, onto the "getting organized" portion of this entry...
First, as some of you have probably guessed by now, my yahoo email account blows mighty chunks. In an effort to make all our lives easier, you can now reach me at juliet@julietspeaks.com. (Actually, as long as you have @julietspeaks.com after it, you can write anything you want. All my tests have been going to "frying pan", but whatever works for you.)
Next, I have recently opened an msn message board for bloggers. Basically it's how-to help for newbies and an information and idea exchange for everyone who has a blog/journal/whatever. You can find it at groups.msn.com/JulietsBloggerHelp. (I realize I just finished telling you how overwhelmed I am, but eh. What's one more thing, right? God...)
In other news... Madcap's blog has moved to madnotions.pushthepulldoor.com. My links have now been updated; if you have linked him from your site, please do the same... There are some new blogs in my friends links, including Isabella's Inspiration, Kassahn's Random Thoughts, and Becca's I So Totally Suck!, which isn't true, but it is pretty damn creative.
Last but not least, tomorrow is Valentine's Day! Yeah, yeah, commercialism and all that crap. I don't care.
But if you're looking for something to celebrate, there's more to V-Day than flowers and hearts.
V-Day is also a nonprofit organization dedicated to funding efforts to eliminate violence against women and girls worldwide. Part of their fundraising involves local productions of The Vagina Monologues, but they don't stop there. Visit VDay.org for more information on how to help.
Or, whatever happened to that $3 you scraped off the bottom of your purse?
Have a wonderful weekend everyone! I'll see you on Monday!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 1:08 PM [+] ::
...
Fill the Damn Time Slot Wednesday:: Tuesday, February 10, 2004 ::
It's the American Idol results show for Group 1! This means 21 minutes of absolutely nothing, and one minute of surprise.
Or in this case, forty-five seconds of "yeah, we knew that" with a 15-second foray into "what the hell's wrong with you people?!"
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Again. Easy to do when the bulk of the show is about as substantial as cotton candy.
Quick note here - did Ryan get neck implants or something? He's looking a bit sturdier this time around, and wearing all black. But it's only his neck. It's weird.
Simon's in a charcoal sweater, Paula is rubbing on him and Randy's wearing a shiny shirt.
Ahkay!
For the next 20 minutes, why don't you scroll down and relive the magic from last night's recap? That's pretty much what the show did tonight, except without referencing chicken or a vinyl nursey. What better TV this might be if they'd only lift that G rating.
Since we have some time on our hands, hows about spending a bit of it on the periodic table of elements? You know, H, Fe, Sg...other stuff that may or may not really exist...
No? Uh, I could tell you the nutritional value of a baked potato.
Or not.
C'mon, work with me here, people. There's only so much one can say about a vacuum.
Sigh. All right.
All the judges seem to think Diana and Fantasia will move on to the finals. Will they or won't they?
Marque is gone.
Ashley is gone.
Fantasia's in the top three.
Erskine's a-bye-bye.
Diana's sticking around.
Katie, whose breasts are strangely fascinating tonight, doesn't make the cut.
Matthew proves we seriously need to hike up the education standards in this country. Who the hell voted for him?
And Jennifer can bundle up her hair now.
Cut to a commercial where we see an ad for some celebrity spelling bee I'm pretty sure I won't watch. Also, Speaksy THANK GOD IN HEAVEN comes home to fix the VCR for me! I'm taping West Wing at 9:00 (so I can be here with you!), except I monumentally hosed something in there.
Quelle surprise.
Also a shocker to see Fantasia in the finals, with 23% of the vote. She sings the popsicle and chicken song for a while and "loves (us) all" a little bit.
Ad. Of course.
Ryan plugs next week's show to kill a little more time, then sends Matthew "Evil Cher" Metzger back to the drag pageant circuit. This leaves us with the peppy Diana, in fulfillment of the prophesy.
She sings.
We're done.
Thank God.
Good night!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:26 PM [+] ::
...
The One Where Juliet Eats Chicken:: Monday, February 09, 2004 ::
Welcome to American Idol, the First Eight! Tonight, our fair country will vote out six Idol wannabes and promote two to the final round. How will you vote?
First, let's talk about the new digs! Is it just me, or are those people around the stage positioned just right to peer up into all the minis we're gonna see tonight? I guess if the singer sucks they can at least keep themselves occupied that way.
Out with the new, in with the old: Ryan looks pretty familiar, but his William Hung impression is way worse than the actual William Hung Experience. (We have to call it an "experience" now because more people have done the dance than ever did the Macarena.) Simon's in white, Paula's hair looks pretty cute and Randy's adding late woowoos to the theme song.
Onto Group 1!
01 - Diana Degarma - I Got the Music In Me
This is the gotta-wear-pink-n-black 16-year-old from Hawaii, and she's a lot better than I remembered. Still 16, with all the lovely things that go along with it (though her bad fashion sense certainly bucks that trend), but she's got good stage presence. Plus she wasn't as cute this time.
That's a good thing.
Randy, Paula and Simon all draw little hearts above her performance, and I race to cut my chicken into bite-sized pieces during the commercial break.
Fork. Pen. I am in no manner ambidextrous. It's going to be a messy night.
02 - Marque Lynche the Dancer - Wing Beneath My Wings
My equivalent of a Handi-Nap, apparently. I have plenty of time to eat now that I've written down "okay, not stellar" in my notepad. Diana pretty much kiboshed him, I think. Randy and Paula think he's better than they remember (which apparently means fanfreakingtastic) and Simon thinks he sold out.
I don't care.
03 - Ashley Thomas the Mortgage Broker - Crazy
Ow ow ow! Don't hurt Patsy like that! Have some respect!!
I dunno. Maybe it's her voice, maybe it's that she's missing all over the place, but I do know her skirt's too short. See, new audience? That's what all the fuss was about!
Randy thinks she's "all right", Paula says she's beautiful but not good enough, and Simon likens her to a prom queen at a rodeo. "Sweet."
Ashley takes that as a compliment and marches back into the red room, where she judges the criticism to be "harsh".
Poor naive Ashley. Hasn't she watched this show before?
Ryan throws us to a break so we can "talk behind (their) backs".
Talk is cheap - I'm writing it down, Ryan!
04 - Katie Webber, Dancer - Some Jazz Song I Can't Remember
She's got a couple of scary moments in there, but all in all she's pretty good! I realize this is the cheerleader from the early rounds, but the dress redeems her. It's "cute"! And a little musical theatre with the hands, but since I'm still eating I happily miss a lot of that.
Two thumbs up!
Also good marks from Randy, though Paula doesn't like the song (insert random Paula insult here) and Simon flicks her into the "hotel bar" category.
05 - Erskine Walcott, Stagehand/Dancer - Open Arms
My chicken is gone, so I am horrified to find that prom night flashback from last season is hitting me full in the felt-up chest again. I love the song and his voice is all right, but I can't get over the disco lights and Velveeta. I realize only one of those is his fault, but it's enough for me to manufacture imaginary chicken to taunt the dogs with for the remainder of the performance.
Randy drops a name and praises E for not letting the bad notes throw him (though they sure as hell threw me), Paula says he's "real" (which, whatever bearing that should have on whether he can sing or not, puzzles me) and Simon went back to "safe" with a Chinese Food reference.
I, myself, am currently thinking about the chocolate cake mix we just hauled out of the cupboard to give to charity, but to each his own.
06 - Jennifer Hudson - Imagine
So the hair is better but the clothes are... I'm not really sure what they are, except I think I wore those boots during my dance team days. Tacky then, tacky now. I overestimated her voice, though - asking it to overcome the wardrobe malfunction was just a little too much to expect, I suppose.
Randy isn't blown away, Paula gives her a "nice performance" review and Simon thinks she's great, which either means he's a sucker for tears or he really does have a nurse-in-vinyl fetish.
I know he said "leather".
That wasn't leather.
07 - Matthew Metzger - Walking in Memphis
I have attitude about Matt before he even sings; I remember him as "the guy who took Scooter Girl's space". But oh, my God, even I couldn't have anticipated this scary Cher impersonation. Matt, you've been outsung by thousands of drunken drag queens, and if you make it to the finals I'll make it my personal crusade to superimpose your head on pictures of every one of them.
You know I will.
Randy thinks he's good looking but the vocals aren't strong. Paula disagrees and loves the song choice. Simon thinks he has "presence" and compares him to Clay.
Clay fans everywhere are so pissed right now.
Matt's happy, though. Until he googles his name tomorrow and finds little ol' me.
Cut to the Red Room to hear contestants being all respectful about the judges' (ahem, Simon's) critiques of them. Note to the kids: sucking up to the judges won't help you now.
Sucking up to me would be good, though.
Just one more songstress to go, but before we get there I have to comment on this AT&T ad again. Ryan urges vulnerable young men to text message women for dates.
Note to young men: if you don't get your ass up off that bar stool, expect to spend the night in your car, too drunk to drive home.
Oh, and you'll be alone.
08 - Fantasia Barrino - Something to Talk About
I like chicken. I like popsicles. But popsicles and chicken do not go well together. God, Fanny, did they not let you choose your own song? And if that was your choice, don't you think you should have asked someone else first?
I'll love you when you ask for help, sister.
Randy calls her unique and "an old pro", Paula says this "season must have Fantasia", and Simon calls her a "star" who doesn't need this competition to get a recording contract.
She does, however, need help getting around on those high heels.
And I need to do the dishes. If only ridding myself of that Metzger kid's memory were as easy as a touch of Dawn.
'Night, everyone!
Julie
:: happy hour begins at 9:58 PM [+] ::
...
On Dieting:: Thursday, February 05, 2004 ::
I spent several minutes tonight dropping individual pumpkin seeds onto a food scale, trying to hit exactly one-quarter of an ounce.
I wonder if the floor of rock bottom is covered in these shells.
Not to get all "Cathy" on you, but Speaksy is getting along famously with the late Dr. Atkins, while I'm ready to launch myself at the TV every time a Snickers commercial shows up. He craves nothing; I crave everything, including Chicklets and low-fat cardboardesque cookies. I even made him mash up some cauliflower into "mock mashed potatoes" last night so I could pretend I was getting my fix.
It's only Day 8.
Oh, God.
I suppose my fixation with my weight started when I was twelve. Before that, I had a body so stick figurish kids made fun of me at school. Ratfuckers. Although I bet my hands and head didn't look so damn tiny back then.
Then, I got my period. As if bleeding once a month (give or take when you're twelve) weren't horrific enough, I got a new thermal layer to match.
I became "normal."
Tragedy.
Fast forward to my senior year in high school, when my boyfriend would laugh because my size-six thighs were bigger than his. This really stung at the time, but looking back, it's not like he had a body to worship - at 5'9" he weighed in at a sickly 124. Thank GOD my thighs were bigger than his!
But that's not how I saw it. No, when it came time to get ready for college I spent an entire summer taking aerobics classes to get into a nice size 4.
Remember in gym class when you had to sprint to the line, slap it, pivot and sprint back?
Well, size 4 was the line.
My body was never the same after that. Up she went. Down she went. Up on Alfano's breadsticks. Down on rice and tomatoes. Up on Subway because they took credit cards and delivered. Down on starvation because Subway ate my credit card.
Up on wedding cake.
Up on fast food because there wasn't time for a real meal.
Up at 30 for no fucking reason.
And we're back to measuring pumpkin seeds.
Maybe I'll find a low-carb bus to hurl myself under.
I'm not going to turn this blog into a dieting journal, but this is going to come up once in a while so I wanted to prepare you. Also, if you are anti-Atkins, keep your shit to yourself, and if you know me in person... Well, let's just pretend this entry didn't happen, shall we?
And keep your damn cupcakes to yourself.
Have a great day, everyone! I'm off to roll SALMON WITH CREAM CHEESE AND GREEN ONION FOR BREAKFAST!
I'M SHOUTING TO MAKE IT SOUND BETTER! DOESN'T IT SOUND BETTER WHEN I YELL? GO TEAM! WOOHOO!
Son of a bitch.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 5:25 PM [+] ::
...
Free to be you and me, G.D.it!:: Wednesday, February 04, 2004 ::
Whoa! It's like, my blog again! It's back! It's back!
Well, let's not get too excited; I only have things to say when I can't say them. Give me any measure of white space and the chatterbox in my head bites its cheek and smirks at me.
It thinks it's so funny.
Ah, but I have stories to tell tonight.
Almost a week ago, I spent two lovely days in the company of almost all the people I know. It wasn't until the end that I realized the weekend had a theme:
Whatever you want, babe. It's all good.
We start our journey with a lunch at Olive Garden with two people from work, and one more who fell off the wagon and just kept running. You know her as The Girl Down the Street.
Topics ranged from totally!nude childbirth (though none of us has had a child) to married couples who refuse to pass gas in front of each other (three of us are married, the fourth is in some sort of pre-engagement limbo from which she fears she shall never escape). How in the world do you live with someone 24/7 for years and NOT fart occasionally? Seriously, how is that possible?
Even if it is, WHY would you do it?
Ahem. Freedom of the body.
I drove straight from the restaurant to Virginia, where I met up with HFS and HFS Jr at the home of our amazing hostess, Wicked H.
And explained to my 11-year-old adopted niece what it means to say a man is "hung".
Yes, there were horse references. And a medical dictionary. And a pronunciation key.
Also some serious mortification on HFS' part when we came back in the room.
HFS - "Clitoris."
Joining us on Saturday night was Fuzzy Ween, who brought brie and entertained the hell out of us.
And gave us art.
Too many cosmos and some Josh Lyman time later I stumbled off to bed and thought about how much it means to have friends with whom I can be myself, always.
Freedom of the spirit.
After the Sunday morning drive home and a quick nap, I hit the final party of the weekend and prayed for nonalcoholic beverages. Speaksy and I spent the Superbowl (and corresponding breast shot) in the company of longtime friends...and one new girlfriend. She's very nice. Overwhelmed, probably, but very nice.
Again, not in the "sings in a bar" way.
After several hours of chili, hot wings, lit matches and euchre we all settled in for some good, old-fashioned storytelling. O has a great one about a football game at which he cussed up a storm (Goddamn fucking shit!) and has about the best line ever: after a fan behind him dressed him down for his foul language, he replied, "Fuck you, old man. This game is over!"
We use that a lot around here. It's an all-occasion type of line.
But when O told the story in front of his new girlfriend, it suddenly became, "I said a lot of 'G.D.s' and 'F.s'; if I'd had a few more beers I might actually say that."
Silence from the peanut gallery.
Suddenly everyone except the girlfriend started flashing back over the night; had O cussed at all? Oh, God, had we? Yes, there were a couple of words dragged out but nothing horrifying, unless...
IS SHE A...WHAT THE HELL IS SHE? AND WHAT DID SHE DO TO O?
F!
F, indeed. Freedom of expression.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: just be yourself. If you start a relationship by putting on an act for someone, be it a friend or a lover, you might be stuck with that act for the rest of your life.
Even actors need a place to call home.
God, if she won't let him cuss she's NEVER going to let him fart. The guy's gonna end up flying around the room one night because the pressure finally blew.
Pun intended.
Happy Thursday!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 10:46 PM [+] ::
...
"Don't forget the words." - Simon:: Tuesday, February 03, 2004 ::
Oh. I won't. Between now and the end of this recap I'll be repeating them like a Scandinavian death mantra.
My voodoo dolls are right...over...there...
Welcome to American Idol, the Final Pre-AT&T Audition night! Once Ryan completes his interpretive dance featuring scenes from last night's episode, we'll be all set to roll!
Go, Ryan!
More Ryan!
C'mon, Ryan.
Ah, good.
It's 8am on Day 3, and Simon's predicting a "musical car crash" while the Roman brothers beat up on each other. FORESHADOWING.
In this round, the contestants must sing one of three songs with a group of three, and to make things pretty I'll ask three questions: 1.) How is it possible that these kids have never heard any of these extremely famous songs before? 2.) How hard can it be to learn a couple of lines in a catchy tune, knowing your groupmates will be singing the rest of them? 3.) Who the hell is Meleana?
Well, she isn't in the first group. The Hawaiian Trio sings "Up on the Roof". Sonny, Clifford and Jonah aren't too bad as a group, but their individual talents are...not fantastic. But it could just be because I hate this song so much.
The Peroxide Trio (TM Ryan) also sings that damn song. Michael Keown forgets the words, but remembers how to sass the judges fairly well. Where did John Preator come from? And will he leave soon? And how did Matthew Metzger make it to this point at all?
The judges are likewise unimpressed.
But look! Let's follow the bouncing ball! This is always a fun game, except when it's accompanied by miscellaneous caterwauling. That Rick Astley song sure turned out to be a boner; judging by the guys' performances you wouldn't think there were words at all.
Are we sure this isn't just footage cut from the first round in the cities?
Another trio, and Jesus is still hopping mad that his group chose sleep over practice. Ironic, isn't it, that he's the one who forgot his words? George did well, as did Mike XFL, but Mike? The Superbowl Shuffle? Like, don't do that anymore, okay?
Note to Jeremy, Terrance and John Stevens: It's awfully hard to "Tell Her About It" if you're just humming. Unless there are some wicked hand signals to go with it, she's not going to get it.
So, the boys didn't fare so well, but how about the girls? While many of them continue to practice outside, Meleana, who to this point has never been mentioned so I'm not sure why they think we care about her, is avoiding her group, which is comprised of more people we've never seen and don't much care about. Where is Bikini!Model? I like making fun of her.
(Patience. Patience, my child.)
The first girl group with Elizabeth, Dina and Leah was coached by a "very famous pop star" from Bulgaria, aka someone's mom. They've got "Young Hearts," they've got a great routine, and for all that they are still SHARP SHARP SHARP!
# # #!!
Eh. It's better than the boys were, anyway.
On to the group we don't care about; it's Cortni, Janine and Meleana. C&J are icky, and Meleana didn't sing a single word of "You Can't Hurry Love". FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PEOPLE, if you're going to audition for a singing part, LISTEN TO THE RADIO ONCE! JUST ONCE IS ALL I ASK!
The next group fares much better, despite Lana the formerly hive-free bee girl. (I'll bet uberAlpha is regretting the hell out of her obedience training right now.) Nicole really does have a good voice, Sara's is very different but just as good (if not better), Amy with the Pink Hair is also a winner, and Lana should have been left in the hallway to rot.
I know! Let's bounce the ball on her ass! The song is "Can't Hurry Love" and the girls are croaking. There's lots of ad-libbing and running, and I'm about as over it as the judges must be.
It takes those judges just ten minutes of party games with the contestants' pictures to slash the group down for the final day, and although Simon says he's sorry to have to tell them they're going home, he really isn't. Well, he might be sorry that he drew the short straw for delivery, but he's gotta be pretty ecstatic at the prospect of unloading the dead weight.
There's just so much of it.
Bring out your dead! Pink T-Bird girl, Bao Viet, Jasmine Ortega, all of Whocares Meleana's group, Lanabee and Michael Keown all take the ride, and I'm a little sad. It took me a long time to get Michael's last name right, and now I'll have to discard that brain cell or be scarred for life.
Hmmm... Gone!
It's the Final Day! Ryan's got his tiara on to tell us the kids will be singing "live and alone", as if they aren't going to have to do that for the rest of the competition anyway. This is drama? (cue sad, girls-crying music)
Let's set 'em up and knock 'em down, shall we?
Jonah goes first, and Simon is displeased about his general level of nervousness.
Sarah Silva did all right, but wasn't fantastic.
Leah Vladowski's voice sounds amazing to me, but Simon and Speaksy disagree.
Nicole Tieri is just wonderful, I say, but she gets the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" treatment from Simon, who thinks she's boring without the scooter. Favorite line of the night here: "If I can do left and right, I can do left of center."
Love that girl. (In case you're feeling vibrations here, I've resumed the chanting.)
Erskine, not the rug, has an excellent voice he muddies up with unnecessary embellishment, but the judges don't seem to mind that.
And Amy with the Pink Hair is damn good, too.
But Marcus Butts sounds like he should be waiting tables and Cassie is dressed too much like Paula for anyone's tastes. Simon thinks she looks like something you'd wrap a turkey in, and if you don't think Jon Voigt was in the back of my mind after that you just haven't been paying attention.
Simon gathers the brood to tell them he's happy today (after basically ordering hits on some of them after yesterday's debacle), then runs off with his playmates to cut their throats himself.
Dun dun DUN!
Room One is going through! Simon gives Nervous Jonah, Matt XFL, Jon Stevens the Redheaded Crooner, Bikini!Model (spit), John Peter the Sleeping Pen Salesman and Sally Jesse Raphael's Roman Brothers the good news while Randy and Paula hold hands. Awww.
Sadly, Room Two will not be joining us next week, including George Huff, Sarah Silva, Cheesecake and Nicole.
(...)
But, Room Three will be back! Congrats to Amy Pink Hair Adams, Jennifer the Poodle, Fantasia and Brie the Porcupine.
Thus endeth the official recap.
Here starts my pissoffedness. They kept Bikini!Model and dumped Scooter Girl? I know she didn't have a lot of fans here on the blog (besides me), but if you think justice was done tonight with that, "well then you're deaf."
Ah, there's a Simon soundbyte for every occasion, isn't there?
Tune in tomorrow night, when I'll finally wrangle my blog back from this all-consuming show! Maybe I'll finally get to recapping my weekend, eh?
Have a great night, everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 10:31 PM [+] ::
...
"Bright light! Bright light!":: Monday, February 02, 2004 ::
117 contestants. Half of them named Gizmo. Thirty will fall.
Wake up, number 31.
Did you like that sense of drama there? Well, I'm just a Princess compared with what's coming up.
Welcome to the first two days of American Idol Goes to Anaheim! The contestants are ready (and already complaining), so why don't we just jump on in?
On Day 1... (cue dramatic theme music!)
"My lips are big, but my talent is bigger!"
"I can sell more than a pen."
"Yodelayhehoo!"
"It's destiny."
One hundred and seventeen singers take the stage to tell us why they should be the next American Idol, and sing a little ditty to back up their claims. Fantasia Barrino is awesome in killer shoes, Jon Peter Lewis is definitely awake this time and Kiira Bivens is killing me with that damned sheep-yodel thing.
I've never heard anything like your voice either, Kiira.
Also, I'm pretty sure "boughten'" isn't a word.
But the night doesn't start until Alan "Cheesecake" Ritchson gets up there and rubs himself all over. Clearly this is a contender.
But only because he brought a game! "AMERICAN IDOL - if you take out MERIC and move the L from IDOL into the space, you get ALAN. It's destiny."
Also destiny:mad
mold
loin
potato salad
Well, maybe not that last one, but what do you want? Low-carbing is hard!
When Simon brings them all in and tells them they're "boring" and Paula urges them to "lighten up", we know it wasn't just us and give thanks that this segment was so short.
But there's more to come; the contestants have an assignment tonight: write a song with original tune and lyrics, using one of ten pre-selected titles.
So Cheesecake the Contender goes to the pool with Bikini!Model, and the universe ties itself up in a nice little bow of continuity.
While the rest of the contestants toil and sweat, Speaksy busts out with a joke about three AI judges walking into a bar. If it seems like everything we do over here includes Jon Voigt and turkeys, that's because it does.
But not in Anaheim! Oh, no! By Day 2 (more dramatic theme music!) it's clear Cheesecake is only in this to get laid, and though I could run that back through the Jon/turkey vortex I don't think I will. Otherwise it's refreshing to see the kids have done their homework. Most turn up prepared.
I said most. I mean some.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Eric Yoder sings an ode to Paula in what Simon refers to as a herculean effort at "sucking up". Laura Enswiler performs a catchy tune about breaking up with her boyfriend because he's gay. Taryn Southern has a flashback.
And that, as they say, is pretty much where the wheels come off the wagon.
Poor Taryn is the first singer we see who just totally chokes, but she is far from the last. Lyrics? What lyrics? There were supposed to be lyrics? I didn't know that. One guy is so flustered he sings about sitting "on" a phone, which is probably more comfortable than being on that stage without an actual song to sing.
Cassie LaBeau even blames the lights for her failure, though when they turn them off she does no better. I blame Cassie for the next ten minutes, in which I haul out a flashlight and basically blind myself showing Speaksy "how it's done".
He is not impressed.
And neither am I. The much exalted Bikini!Model who spent all night poolside with Cheesecake doesn't even get her first line out.
Good time for a commercial, eh?
drama
midol
load
ai model in car
Seriously.
We're back for some highly repetitive tunes and SCOOTER GIRL! Nicole Tieri is one of my favorites at this point, probably because she's so damn funny. Simon thinks she's a better comedian than singer, but who cares what he thinks.
Well, me, but only sometimes. Not all the time.
But Paula does, and oh, how protective she can be when one of her cubs is threatened.
Kira Scott. Kira, Kira, Kira. Dissing Simon before, during and after your song. In what universe did that seem like a good idea? And how cool is Paula, tearing into her for her lack of respect? (Okay, so my mother and I have had more heated words about what kind of underwear we like best, but it's the thought that counts, right, P?)
The Saula boards will be jumping tonight.
In the meantime, the contestants have been separated into four groups and herded into holding tanks while the judges play Concentration with their pictures. Kira finds a Remorse Kit, but will it be too late?
Hint: no.
Behind Door #1 we find Paula telling Fantasia, Cheesecake and friends they'll be staying on.
Room #2 finds Gizmo, Jon and Bikini!Model breathing sighs of relief when Randy breaks the good news.
In Tank #3, Simon sends Yodeler and Lauren packing.
But, Simon redeems himself by telling Group #4 they can stay. Three cheers for Scooter Girl! And what the *%&# were they thinking, letting Kira come back?
Let's take a moment to watch Room 3 cry and get pissy, shall we? Some chick rails about stupid trailer trash getting in before her, and that certainly lessens the sting for me.
Flashlight! Flashlight!
In all, 87 contestants have survived the first round, but Day 2 isn't over for them. They are tasked with forming groups of three with whom to sing tomorrow. Fortunately they are given some choices: the women can pick, "You Can't Hurry Love," "Tell Him," or "Young Hearts," and the men get, "Tell Her About It," "That Rick Astley Song I Don't Like," or "Up On the Roof."
Let the games begin.
Also, let me remind you that we learned about this in school. In a group project, there will always be the Alpha, the Rider and the Slacker.
Lana Phillips is none of these - she is a lyrics-forgetting bee without a hive. But she's picked her song, and isn't that the most important thing? Eventually she is adopted into a group by its uberAlpha, who just tells her - "You're in our group now."
uberAlphas are also known as Border Collies.
By the end of the hour, Bikini!Model is MIA, Porcupine is going to kick someone's mother's ass and MattXFL is tempting the wrath of Jesus by going to bed.
Sounds like the makings of a good Wednesday night to me. See you then!
Juliet
PS - Best wishes to JackieLynn! I hope the anesthesia didn't knock a sex-dream-with-sound-effects out of you in front of your mother!
:: happy hour begins at 10:20 PM [+] ::
...
117 People
Tonight, from the cutting room floor, it's a whole bunch of people who did make it to Hollywood! WOOHOO!! Deemed too boring for the Tuesday/Wednesday night schedule, these contestants banded together to create a one-off episode I normally wouldn't recap.
But what the hell. I don't have anything else to do, and since you don't seem to either, let's get started.
Elizabeth kicks off the evening by announcing she's going to puke, then totters out on some stilts to bang out "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." E, I'll finish that sentence with "you irritated me". Gut reaction, apparently shared by Randy. But, Paula doesn't think she's cocky and Simon thinks Randy's lost his mind, so on the plane she goes.
Quickly followed by Briana, the androgynous porcupine with a pretty good voice. Simon thinks she's a "very confused young lady".
Note: I don't understand chin piercings.
Micah/Mike/Not Real Sure. This is where you find out I have misspelled almost every name on my list, and in this case I didn't catch the correct spelling in time to scratch it into my notes. Speaking of scratch, "Old Time Rock & Roll" may have some spunk but "Whole New World"? The hell? Don't sing that in the next round, dude. You'll put your eye out.
Charly, the Native American North Carolinian, sings pretty well but can't talk for damn. Just don't speak, Charly. I'll make a t-shirt just for you.
Note to Elizabeth: try to room with Charly. Pay her to teach you how to walk in heels.
Eric Yoder has had his car stolen and broken into, then comes to AI to sing "Fievel Gets Shot". After seven kinds of bad luck he adds an eighth: sounding like a Clay Clone right after Clay floods the whole damn market.
In times like these, all you can do is buy a lottery ticket. Eventually something has to go your way.
Jennifer Hudson doesn't need any help, though; after a dismal start with the Disney cruise ship resume, Jen sings hard enough to blow a strap off her dress. Very nice. And not in the "sings in a bar" way but the real way.
Yeah, that perked me up a little.
Kira Scott crashed back through the gates, though, taking her mulligan a year late. Simon doesn't like her lack-of-X-factor and Paula believes she is without joy, but Randy pleads her case and they let her in. Simon advises her to "come back as a bitch" and I know he was meant to love me.
D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.
Another multi-seasonal do-over attempt, Lisa the Redhead, may not care, Simon, but she actually can sing. I like her for not giving in to Simon's 2002 demand that she lose weight. That's reason enough to put her through, I think.
Oh, good. Now a "people begging" montage. I like it when people grovel at my feet in an attempt to gain my favor. They never change my mind, but it's fun while it lasts.
Sigh.
Enter Warren the creepy hugger guy. Warren is one of Paula's biggest fans; he comes in with some of her choreography, snips out "Cold Hearted - the Amphetamine Remix," then crushes Paula in an embrace while Randy calls for the Jaws of Life and Simon plays solitaire on the now-empty table.
Note to Simon: I would never do that to you. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's not much to be gained by meeting you at all, so I think you're pretty safe.
Watch out for HFS, though.
Cute-as-a-button Diana is next. She always wears black and pink and, like me, Simon seems mildly frightened of her. But, the girl can sing, so as long as we don't look directly at her we should be all right.
Is it me, or am I sounding a whole lot like Veronica in Heathers tonight? Or, really, every Winona Ryder character? Except Mina?
Continuing on that theme, Sara: yeah, yeah. Tragic clothes but a good voice. Another theme.
New thing: Sergey, Sara's boyfriend, who smacks a mean bottom to "I'm Too Sexy".
No.
Hey! It's another montage! They must really be scrapping for clips tonight, folks. I think they built the whole "The Dog Ate My Real Voice" thing around the chick with the duct tape holding her body together under her dress, which is all right because that alone was worth it.
What's my excuse? Well, I started a diet today.
"I should have told you that before I came in here."
Donnie Williams has a nice, soulful voice, and since Simon only mentions that he seems "too old" I'm guessing he wasn't watching that performance.
Note to Donnie: dramatics like that belong everywhere except my TV. You thought we were rough on Kelly with that hand plastered to her stomach? Look out, bub.
Filler filler filler. Montage montage montage. Seizures billed as dancing.
Next.
Note to doubters: that Cheesecake dude who serenaded Paula to get in? I so told you he wasn't any good. Apparently last year Randy and Simon agreed with me.
I don't know what happened to them this year. Except maybe Paula's dresses got a little lower in the cleavage.
Poor Michelle. Michelle sits between the boys and copies Cheesecake's moves, but she's even worse than he is. Cute Simon moment, though - even though she totally tanks, he's very sweet to her. Swoon!
Another swoon for Marque, the dancer who won't dance but belts out a helluva "I Can't Make You Love Me." You don't have to, dear; you had me at hello.
Stupid movie line, but I'm seriously jonesing for a Snickers right now so cut me some slack. I'm going to go stalk my freezer again - I know there's some cookie dough in there.
I know I can't have it.
But I can bond with it.
'Night all!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:54 PM [+] ::
...
