American Idol Tuesday
As I've said before, I enjoy watching all these people in the early episodes of AI. People who think they can sing. Ridiculous, far out nerds and hipsters and funks and punks and krunks. Whose friends tell them they have the best voice ever!
But cripes, if I have to listen to Paula Abdul tell one more person how they need a better "image" while she sits there at the table, all smug and cheeky WITH A BANANA CLIP IN HER HAIR, I am gonna hurl.
Honey, I have a couple of newsflashes for you: First of all, it is no longer the 80s, even though I can see where you might be confused, given that that was the last time you enjoyed any semblance of popularity. Also, you're not an A-cup so quit trying to smush your boobs into those strapless tops thinking that you're creating some kind of fabulous cleavage.
On a brighter note, how cute was that young African-American kid with the braids and the A-M-A-Z-I-N-G voice that cried when he told his church that he was going to Hollywood! I guess I'll keep watching as long as he remains in the competition. Even though I may have just subjected myself to an entire season of pop divaness.
