So TV Guide (raise your hand if the new format irks you—they've got 2 million pages now, they can't show me a whole day's worth of TV?) is predicting a Kellie v. Chris Smackdown, á la the Carrie v. Bo confrontation of yesteryear, if you make Carrie a sexier cartoon girl and Bo someone you might actually bring home to Mama. And if that happens . . . well, Kellie will win, that's all. The section of the country that finds Kellie vacuous and limited is smaller than the section that finds Chris threatening and . . . I'll stick with "threatening."
Granted, this is totally my opinion, and my opinions—while 100 percent factually correct—seem to be unshared by a whole lotta people, namely, U.S. voters. And, well, the Academy. (Did people not see Capote? Man. Crash? Are you kidding me?! But I digress.)
Mrs. Cynicletary swears that the best singers always win in the end . . . which I don't necessarily agree with. Kelly, sure. Ruben—it's subjective. He and Clay are both excellent singers. Fantasia—no freakin' way. La Toya was a much better singer. It came down to a cult of personality that year. Carrie—okay. I loved Bo and never warmed up to Carrie, but her pure talent was undeniable. What all that means for this year, I couldn't tell you.
And I screamed and threw things at the TV (in my head, I did) when Paula said, "You just have to keep voting for your favorites . . . for the whole two hours." Have a life much, Paula?
I'm not sure at what point I should mention that my very recent lunch comprised a lot of tequila. I was celebrating?
Maybe I was preparing for Country Night, which, like Mrs. Cynicletary, raises not one iota of hopefulness in me. Of course, I do love Patsy Cline. And that cute girl who sings "Passionate Kisses" (which my husband always misremembers as "Passionate Sisters," too funny)—I like her too. And I love to pretend to sing "Achy Breaky Heart," with lines like " . . . and then I'm gonna circumcise this man." But . . . that's about it. Still, unlike Mrs. Cynicletary (who is an older person), I am open-minded and bendy—bring on the country! Me and José Cuervo, we will listen objectively, with peace in our hearts.
Time to open Lady Chardonnay's Mail Bag! (not to be confused with Lady Chardonnay's Man Purse, of which I have none, though Mr. Lady Chardonnay does, and believe me, he is mocked for it)
Why do call yourself Lady Chardonnay? Are you really such a boozehound?
So glad you asked. Certainly I enjoy a tipple from time to time, as who among us does not? But "Lady Chardonnay," alas, is not original to me. Mr. Lady C and I once spent a glorious evening browsing among the fine works displayed at The Museum of Bad Art (http://www.museumofbadart.org/) . . . and there she was: "The Lady Chardonnay." She was beautiful. She spoke to me. She was, in short, everything I wanted to be.
And now, I am her. She is me. Life is good.
Lady C, don't you know alcoholism is a disease?
No, but I know all five verses of Suicide Is Painless. Won't you sing along?
Ha, kidding.
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Country Night. Expect lots of random kicking. Oh, and: shoot me now.
Lady Chardonnay OUT.
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3 comments:
Did you all forget that Chris has already done a country song - Walk the Line by JC?
This could be good unless they all pick nonsense such as Kellie's Suds in a Bucket. I hope someone sings some Willie Nelson.
And shouldn't Mr. Lady C. be Lord C.?
"And shouldn't Mr. Lady C. be Lord C.?"
NO. That would make him outrank me, which he does not. Also, we don't have the same last name, even in blogland.
It seems to me that Chris did a rock 'n' roll version of Walk the Line. If everyone does non-country versions of country songs, that will be A-OK with me!
—Lady C
I just sang the first three verses of "Suicide is Painless" to BurghermeisterCrow yesterday afternoon just to prove I could! The lattice of coincidence!
(And you can tell from his title that Burghermeister Crow outranks me - that is because I am a kept woman. I have no need of title or rank - I survive on my vast amount of feminine wiles.)
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