"I wish you could taste what I taste right now!"

And that word is: love.

Oh, how I heart Neil Patrick Harris!!! And it makes me even more excited for Ellen — a smart, funny judge who can stand up to Simon. Music industry cred, shmusic industry cred, that's what I say.

Mimosa (my 12 year old) and I had to watch last night's episode on something called WiseVid — I forgot to take into account our awesome Prez's State o' the Union Address and tuned in too late. But I could not miss NPH! And I'm glad I didn't, because the pickings were sweet in Dallas, notably:

• Dockworker Lloyd, with the big Chikeze smile and a voice like Ruben's (who gave us the memorable quote above — alas, I didn't see what he was tasting at the time, but Mimosa assured me that it wasn't his golden ticket)
  
• Kimberly Carver — usually, the words "I'm going to sing an original song" are cause for a panic attack, but Kimberly's song was fine, I love her voice, and while she needs a makeover, for sure, I really really like her — she's my new besty
• Erin "Barney Kid" Rhodes — didn't love her baby voice but LOVED her whip and her sass
• Dave Pitman, young man with Tourette's who sang Sam Cooke oh so sweetly ("I think you're crazy brave," said Neil Patrick, oh so sweetly — DANG me, I love him so!)

Then Neil Patrick left, and young Joe Jonas took his place. At first we groused at this news — a double whammy! Neil Patrick gone, boo-hoo! A Jonas Brother in our face for half an hour, ughy-pew! (We are not fans. Of any Jonas.) (Well, except for Salk — he totally rocked.) But then a small miracle happened, and we grew to love Judge Joe because he was so freakin' funny. Not for anything he said or did, you understand, but for the fact that he said or did almost nothing. Half the time, the camera wasn't even on him when he voted. Even the stolid monosyllabic Mary J. Blige had more of a presence. And his total non-presence quickly threw us into hysterics.

So, lemons —> lemonade, and all was sunshine and lollipops again in the Chardonnay household.

Just in time for Todrick Hall, who sang the second original song of the evening and made us laugh. His voice is just OK, but props for a clever way with a lyric, young squire.

Other notable contestants:

• Dawntoya, who has just a nice average voice, but who sported a great necklace and the best name ever
• Meagan Wright, darling girl with a fantastic smoky voice and a possibly impaired brother — love her!
• Christian Speare, leukemia survivor, sounded a little old-fashioned to me, but a sweet girl nonetheless
  

Hmm, just a few more things:

• Fey Dexter Ward was just as cute as a gay little button, but we felt pummeled by his incessant winking; Li'l Martini ran in from the other room to see why we were shrieking, and insisted that we rewind and replay several more times
• At one point, I saw Kara vote with her boobs — trippy!
  

And finally:

• I really want to hear more from the guy who survived the blood blister — how did the Idol Inspirational Story Seekers miss this luckless fellow?
  

I think we have just one more week of this, yes? And then — we're goin' to Hollywood, baby!

Lady Dawntoya Chardonnay, OUT!

Katy Perry: Beeyatch or Brill?

The Idol blogosphere seems somewhat divided on this question, but I stand by my original statement:

When you're invited to a party, you don't crap on the host. If your bad self must be unleashed, save it for the guests.

If I were an Idol judge, I would like to believe that the other adults in the room had my back — that we were a team, united in our efforts to judge (meaning, praise and/or pan) the young contestants. I would not like having to dodge the slings and arrows of my colleagues' increasingly barbed remarks.

Particularly if I (read "Kara") have already mastered appearing ridiculous all on my own.

I'm no fan of Kara's, but this was absurdly petty and one-sided. Seriously, Katy — you couldn't find anything mockable in Randy's excessive jewelry and used-car-salesman vibe? Simon's ill-fitting wardrobe and clumsy metaphors? Only Kara's over-earnestness required your commentary?

Whatever.

Lady C, oh-so-ready to be done with these wretched auditions, and OUT!

"There is no reality but what we make for ourselves, man"

Thus "exultated" last night's first (and sweatiest) Idol aspirant.

(When he appeared on screen, my children gasped simultaneously, and not in a good way.)

As Idol freaks go, though, Sweaty Neil seemed pretty tame, and I'm not sure why we spent so much time on him.

But wait — I've gotten ahead of myself.

Last week my VCR made me miss Shania (anointed by TV Guide readers as the "best" guest judge yet — the worst, FYI, was Mary J. Blige), but I saw and enjoyed perky Kristen Chenoweth, who brought new life to the Kara-bot. In fact, Kristen was more fun than any of the contestants, though I did enjoy the Human Beat Boxer Jay Stone, who had a nice voice when he wasn't spitting and sputtering. (Personally, I believe that anyone with a halfway decent voice sounds better than they are when they sing an amazing song, such as "Ain't No Sunshine" or "Someone to Watch Over Me" — it's really hard to screw those up. We'll see how he sounds on Country Night.)

When Kristen went home and it was just the Big Three, a wave of longing for Paula hit me hard. Kara takes it all too seriously, as does "Sime" on occasion, and their petulant hissy fits are the Idol moments I dislike most. And surprisingly, it makes me appreciate Randy, who knows it's all a big joke and is there for the paycheck, God love him. I'm looking forward to Ellen, but I still want Kara to go home.

(Except last night I felt very protective of her. Katy Perry is a beeyatch. I had to cheer the otherwise awful contestant who mocked Katy's slutty neckline [after touching himself, ew].)

Back to Kristen-less Tuesday. I was so relieved when the New Jersey sisters who auditioned together were pretty much equally moderately talented; I'm still haunted by the cross-eyed BFF (or, according to her, "BFF forever!") who couldn't sing at all and had to pretend to be supportive of her prettier and more talented besty while the camera pored into her glistening orange face for about seven hours. Yikes.

On to Hollywood and Avril Lavigne!

I liked Mary Powers, the rock'n'roller who sang Pat Benatar with a nice scratchy voice — with a shower and a cute cocktail dress, she will look fabulous and sound great. I desperately wanted to like Andrew Garcia, with the neck tattoo and the adorable weeping father, and I'm glad the judges liked him, but high-voiced men just don't do it for me. (I was likewise unimpressed with the Country Boy Pastor – me and Avril, we are sistahs — and Tasha, the cute singing minister, but the judges were happy, and what more do I ask?)

As for Chris "25 Foster Homes" Golightly, what is there to say, really? It's a sad story (currently playing as "Life Unexpected" on the CW network - check it out!), and he's a sweet boy with a sweet voice. Will he rise to the occasion and soar in Hollywood, or succumb to the pressure and be eaten alive? Now that will be a very special Idol story, indeed.

My alternate title for this post was "The Sound of One Hand Blogging." I think my sister bloggers are adopting a wait-and-see attitude for this, the dullest Idol season yet, as who can blame them? But I will continue to flog this ailing horse as long as the spirit moves me.

(Or spirits — I do enjoy my spirits.)

Neil Patrick Harris tonight! Color me happy.

Lady Chardonnay, bidding adieu (to yieu and yieu and yieu).

"My great-uncle discovered Gladys Knight and the Pips. His name is Clyde."

OK, that is, like, the best Idol quote ever.

I have little to say about last night's show, except that it was harder to guess who would sing well based on his or her presentation. Seriously, did you expect that nice low voice to come out of Guitar Girl?

And this: Only Simon would be an ass to Miss Congeniality. The nicest and best-liked girl out of 50? That is an honor. Period.

Lady Chardonnay OUT.

Déjà Vu All Over Again

Hey, haven't I seen you here before?

So, last night. Some people sang. Some were good, some were bad. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you knew which would be which before they opened their mouths. (Titanium Wrist Boy was my one surprise — I was prepared for him to be a train wreck, but he was lovely! I must've had on my schmoopy look, as Mimosa leaned over during his song and said, "You want a hug?")

The judges blathered and bickered, postured and pontificated.

Victoria Beckham was a surprisingly gracious addition (I thought she'd be a snot), though she seemed to have as many comments about people's appearance as their vocal abilities, which was odd — though also honest, I guess, as this show has always been about both. I'm still bitter about that poor dumpy nanny from years back with the beautiful voice — pre-Susan Boyle, that babe didn't stand a chance.

No one really stood out for me, but I do have questions:

• After those two exuberant back slaps he received from muscular contestants, will poor wee Ryan start wearing protection?
• How did the judges keep a straight face throughout scatting Wizard of Oz chick?
• And then how on earth did she get through? To paraphrase the immortal words of Jeff Spicoli, People on 'ludes should NOT judge.
  
• How does one make a living as an actor on a speed boat?
• Similar question: Is "college graduate" really a profession? Dang, I've been missing a bet all these years.
• Are there any Idol words more terrifying than "an inspirational story of courage"? (Justin Williams! Cancer-free! Handsome, talented, self-satisfied! It's one for the ages.)

My favorites from last night are the aforementioned Titanium Wrist Boy and Jess Wolfe, cute blondish girl with great glasses, whom we saw for five seconds. (Said Mimosa, "I knew you'd like her, because she looks like you, a little bit." My daughter is wise and pretty and good. And raised perfectly.)

Mrs. Cynicletary says she's getting a "jumped the shark" vibe this season. I'm not cuing the theme from Jaws yet — I'm still anticipating the certain joy of upcoming guest judge Neil Patrick Harris — but today, yes, ennui engulfs me. I think I've even written this post before. And I'm newly recovered from stomach flu, I can't even turn to strong drink to lift my spirits. C'est la vie.

Ever thine,
Lady Chardonnay