When oh when will this end? Can't we just get to Hollywood, please?
Here is what I noticed last night. Some of these people who "can't sing" according to Simon and Randy sing just fine. Just not American Idol-fine. Earnest long haired girl (who Jacob on TWoP said has hair that "whispers softly, 'My family is in a cult'.") has a perfectly pretty church singing voice. The first girl who was oh-so-confident beneath her nervousness (she sang "Reflection" which I persist in hoping is going to be the Supremes "Reflections" instead of the irritating Xtina song...) was karaoke-fine. The jumped on her like she was barbecuing kitties.
Although I enjoyed the way that Simon and Randy cut through the contestants like a hot knife through butter, I missed Paula. I was amused by her love for the Jack Osborne-ish looking funny boy. I really liked the repartee between the judges last night as a whole. It seemed much less fake-conflict-y than usual. And there were less sad-crazy people and more happy-crazy-old-big-bird-funny people. Although you could see how ticked off Simon was to have his time wasted.
Altogether - this was the first auditions episode that didn't make me feel a little dead inside. Thank you polite citizens of Birmingham for restoring my faith in humanity!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Alabama On My Mind
Right now, I'm in a haze of Oscar fever, trying to catch all the biggies before my own personal Super Bowl, February 25, so my Idol fever has abated just a tad. But daughter Mimosa, whose priorities are in the right place, woke me this morning with the cry, "Mom! Tonight Idol's in Alabama!"
Sweet home Alabama. I spoke to Mimosa of Lynyrd Skynyrd, and also of Reese Witherspoon having to choose between Patrick Dempsey and Josh Lucas and how only Hollywood could see this as a Big Problem. Okay, Alabama references? Mine are limited. (And we'd already covered the Montgomery bus boycott two weeks ago.) But I'm excited now, because every night brings us closer to the end of the audition process, and that's what I really care about.
I agree with my blogging sisters that the adopted 16-year-old boy is pretty-pretty and has a nice voice, but beyond that—we'll see. When I look back over the sad, wasted contestant pool, it's mostly girls who have stayed with me:
• Army Girl, my first favorite
• Background Singer Girl, who's more than ready for her place in the sun
• Half-Pint New York Pride, the little girl with the three different voices (more on her in a minute)
• The Glamorous BFFs, namely, untrained BFF #2, who outsang her pallie
• Bad Daughter, who's here without Daddy's permission
. . . and a handful of others.
My favorite of the freaks, hands down, was Tone-Deaf Girl, who dreamed of being the first American Idol who couldn't sing. She fascinated me, because she seemed so not-crazy at first, and I thought she had a legitimate, smart point to make . . . but I kept listening and waiting for it, and turns out? No. She did not. But I loved her weepy dripping entitled little crazy self, and I'm so glad we had this time together.
So about Little Miss New York—she has the kind of in-your-face confidence that borders on obnoxious, and right now she's on the delightful side of that line, but no guarantees that she and I won't teeter-totter across it for the rest of the season. But I'm rooting for her. She's one spicy meatball, and I can't wait to see how she plays with others.
See you in Alabama, my friends! (I choose Josh Lucas.)
Lady Chardonnay (whose look today is "Hippie Hippie Chic") OUT.
Sweet home Alabama. I spoke to Mimosa of Lynyrd Skynyrd, and also of Reese Witherspoon having to choose between Patrick Dempsey and Josh Lucas and how only Hollywood could see this as a Big Problem. Okay, Alabama references? Mine are limited. (And we'd already covered the Montgomery bus boycott two weeks ago.) But I'm excited now, because every night brings us closer to the end of the audition process, and that's what I really care about.
I agree with my blogging sisters that the adopted 16-year-old boy is pretty-pretty and has a nice voice, but beyond that—we'll see. When I look back over the sad, wasted contestant pool, it's mostly girls who have stayed with me:
• Army Girl, my first favorite
• Background Singer Girl, who's more than ready for her place in the sun
• Half-Pint New York Pride, the little girl with the three different voices (more on her in a minute)
• The Glamorous BFFs, namely, untrained BFF #2, who outsang her pallie
• Bad Daughter, who's here without Daddy's permission
. . . and a handful of others.
My favorite of the freaks, hands down, was Tone-Deaf Girl, who dreamed of being the first American Idol who couldn't sing. She fascinated me, because she seemed so not-crazy at first, and I thought she had a legitimate, smart point to make . . . but I kept listening and waiting for it, and turns out? No. She did not. But I loved her weepy dripping entitled little crazy self, and I'm so glad we had this time together.
So about Little Miss New York—she has the kind of in-your-face confidence that borders on obnoxious, and right now she's on the delightful side of that line, but no guarantees that she and I won't teeter-totter across it for the rest of the season. But I'm rooting for her. She's one spicy meatball, and I can't wait to see how she plays with others.
See you in Alabama, my friends! (I choose Josh Lucas.)
Lady Chardonnay (whose look today is "Hippie Hippie Chic") OUT.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Memphis and New York
I am with Mrs. Cynicletary about the beautiful 16 year old boy. I was watching with a bunch of high school teachers - one of whom stared at him hungrily and muttered, "I'm going to jail..."
There has got to be a drinking game based on whether or not the contestants are talented or deluded or sincerely mentally ill. But I think that the game would end badly. I am going to live through the auditions, but I feel dirty somehow.
Brunie, out!
There has got to be a drinking game based on whether or not the contestants are talented or deluded or sincerely mentally ill. But I think that the game would end badly. I am going to live through the auditions, but I feel dirty somehow.
Brunie, out!
The Joy of Idol
The winner!
That 16 year old dude who looks like that model, Tyson, might win the whole shebang!
xo,
Mrs. Cynicletary
That 16 year old dude who looks like that model, Tyson, might win the whole shebang!
xo,
Mrs. Cynicletary
Thursday, January 18, 2007
"When does the singing start?"
That's a quote from my son, Li'l Martini, who saw the first 20 minutes of the Minneapolis auditions and promptly revised his definition of injustice (which, only minutes earlier, had centered on the fact that sister Mimosa gets to stay up till 9:00 to watch Idol). Li'l Martini simply blew a kiss to the spirit of Prince and went to bed without a whimper.
I almost called this post "When Jugglers Cry," but, clearly, didn't. Big topic on GMA this morning: Has American Idol gotten too mean? "Yes!" cried the earnest author of Odd Girl Out and assorted people on the street. (Who should not be called street people, or streetwalkers. An important distinction.) But anyway, it's funny that we're all focusing on everything but the actual singing.
Because—the singing? Not so much happening.
By 9:30 I was quite cross and ready to love somebody. As sweet as Crack Baby was, as fun as Hoochie Koochie Girl was, as I-don't-have-an-adjective as Sailor Boy was, none of them grabbed me in any way. But then came Fatigue-Sporting Mechanic Girl, and I liked her instantly. Her voice isn't the best, but I don't even care; I'm just so happy to have a pulse again.
Fatigued Mechanic was immediately followed by Lovely With Lots of Hair, who was delightful, but it didn't matter, my heart was already full. (However, the sixth pick of the night gave me a freak; I love California Dreamin', but what is that thing on his nose? I'm lighting a candle for it in church this Sunday, I cannot watch a nose growth for an entire season.)
Frankly, I'm pretty much done with the audition shows. I love it when they get to Hollywood (which is actually my favorite part of all—the only time we get to see them working and being their best worst selves). We could fast-forward through all this crap, and you could color me happy. But 10 quadrillion viewers clearly have another opinion . . .
(Though the person who said it was annoying, I do love the phrase "urban Amish." I'm going to do that from now—take a random adjective and random noun and put them together to describe my fashion choices. Today I'm "1970s' Air Hostess." Really, you should see me; I have a little scarf and everything.)
It's good to be back!
Lady Chardonnay OUT.
I almost called this post "When Jugglers Cry," but, clearly, didn't. Big topic on GMA this morning: Has American Idol gotten too mean? "Yes!" cried the earnest author of Odd Girl Out and assorted people on the street. (Who should not be called street people, or streetwalkers. An important distinction.) But anyway, it's funny that we're all focusing on everything but the actual singing.
Because—the singing? Not so much happening.
By 9:30 I was quite cross and ready to love somebody. As sweet as Crack Baby was, as fun as Hoochie Koochie Girl was, as I-don't-have-an-adjective as Sailor Boy was, none of them grabbed me in any way. But then came Fatigue-Sporting Mechanic Girl, and I liked her instantly. Her voice isn't the best, but I don't even care; I'm just so happy to have a pulse again.
Fatigued Mechanic was immediately followed by Lovely With Lots of Hair, who was delightful, but it didn't matter, my heart was already full. (However, the sixth pick of the night gave me a freak; I love California Dreamin', but what is that thing on his nose? I'm lighting a candle for it in church this Sunday, I cannot watch a nose growth for an entire season.)
Frankly, I'm pretty much done with the audition shows. I love it when they get to Hollywood (which is actually my favorite part of all—the only time we get to see them working and being their best worst selves). We could fast-forward through all this crap, and you could color me happy. But 10 quadrillion viewers clearly have another opinion . . .
(Though the person who said it was annoying, I do love the phrase "urban Amish." I'm going to do that from now—take a random adjective and random noun and put them together to describe my fashion choices. Today I'm "1970s' Air Hostess." Really, you should see me; I have a little scarf and everything.)
It's good to be back!
Lady Chardonnay OUT.
The Joy of Idol
The Joy of Idol
All I can say is, in Seattle I would be a super-model beauty queen. How many truly unattractive people can there be in one city?
Like Brunie, I dislike this part of the show. Humiliating people who are clearly mentally ill is not funny to me.
I will remain heartlessly ambivalent until at least Hollywood.
Hugs & kisses,
Mrs. Cynicletary
P.S. Happy Birthday to Mr. Cynicletary.
All I can say is, in Seattle I would be a super-model beauty queen. How many truly unattractive people can there be in one city?
Like Brunie, I dislike this part of the show. Humiliating people who are clearly mentally ill is not funny to me.
I will remain heartlessly ambivalent until at least Hollywood.
Hugs & kisses,
Mrs. Cynicletary
P.S. Happy Birthday to Mr. Cynicletary.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
I used to love Minnesota...
This is the part of Idol that I just can't stand. People who are slightly less talented then they have been led to believe, people who are trying to get on television by any means necessary and people who are so unbelieveably deluded that it is painful to watch. I can't really get behind the show until they get to Hollywood and I don't really enjoy it until they are down to the top 24.
That being said - I think we will see a little more of crack-baby girl, zit-nosed boy and this-contestant-was-brought-to-you-by-the-U.S.-Navy. I don't want to remember the rest of them.
What say you, sisters?
Brunie, OUT!
That being said - I think we will see a little more of crack-baby girl, zit-nosed boy and this-contestant-was-brought-to-you-by-the-U.S.-Navy. I don't want to remember the rest of them.
What say you, sisters?
Brunie, OUT!
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