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Posts Tagged ‘American Idol’

Last night, I lounged on my couch, wistfully viewing American Idol sans Brooke White and lazily clicking through the internets, catching the latests news from the North Carolinian and Indianan voting precincts.

As the night progressed, it was clear that Obama was Archuletaing the shit out of North Carolina. He breezed in with his charm and precocious professionalism, and rolled out with all of our hearts. All the while, Clinton faltered like Sayesha before Andrew Lloyd Webber week.

And then this happened:

Jason Castro perfectly mirrored Clinton’s showing in Indiana. Both had stong showings in their contests – Clinton won the state and Castro loosed his charm and adorableness upon America. But the slightest of hiccups for both will probably mean curtains for them.

Clinton’s less-than-a-point lead in Indiana and thorough whomping in North Carolina will make it even more difficult for her to overcome her opponent. And poor Jason’s inability to remember the words from the first verse of the song he was singing pretty much guarantees him the axe tonight on the results show.

American Idol once again proves itself a vitally important tool for understanding the complexities of electoral politics.

On a final note, I just also need to say a word for a fallen hero, the Mike Huckabee of American Idol. She lasted longer than anyone thought, and yet she was taken from us far too soon. Sweet Brooke White.

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On last night’s Idol, Kristy Lee Cook took her “simple hick girl” thing a little too far. That’s right. She sang “God Bless the USA.” I just want to remind our readers that this was, in fact, the same song that my entire elementary school sang together – along to the tape, of course – in front of all our parents as some kind of Bush I era No Child Left Behind initiative.

Below, I dissect the implications of this act, based on whether she is a retarded back-woods blond or an evil genius. Please join me in this excercise.

Possibility 1: Kristy Lee Cook is a hick. She’s a simple girl who loves horses and God and America. She chose a song that reflects two of her three interests.

Implications:

  • Her earnest rendition of this classic Operation Desert Storm tune will resonate in the hearts of other hick Americans and she will continue on into the late rounds of Season 7
  • She will have followed in the rich tradition of all-American sweethearts who pull at the heartstrings of nationalists, a la Josh Gracin, Marine and Popular Idol Contestant of Season 2

Possibility 2: Kristy Lee Cook is an evil genius. With her keen sense of America’s socio-political breakdown, she calculated that the most willful and extravagant American Idol voters are, in fact, the Christian Right. In the off-months between elections, pastors have no choice but to encourage parishioners (via fear of eternal damnation and skin-melting heat) to vote for the Idol contestant who most closely holds their anti-abortion, America First beliefs. This is Kristy.

Implications:

  • Exploiting this voting block for every consecutive performance, Kristy Lee Cook will sail through the final rounds, eventually being crowned as this season’s American Idol.
  • Kristy Lee Cook will ruin the only genuine thing about the show: that contestants are generally clueless n00bs, who, thinking they are the next Celine Dion or Whitney Houston, pick songs that are hopelessly wrong for them. But this is good. Nobody likes a calculating, know-it-all music exec in the lithe body of a 20-year-old farm girl.

I ask you, dear readers, to decide for yourself.

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Tonight, we have the Top 10 Men singing ’70s hits. Yawn. I’m liveblogging anyway because I’m bored and feeling twitchy. And as my roommate can attest, I take any excuse possible not to wash dishes.

I present, American Idol season seven, week two, night one: “Rock is like an attitude. It’s not something you have to prove.” (Randy)

Michael Johns

First guy, you had a really rough time until you got to the chorus and remembered it from a Ford commercial in like 1997. I mean, I would be nervous too, if I were you.

I didn’t hear what any of the judges said because I was washing dishes.

Jason Castro

I think you’re white and you have dreads – this is a huge initial flaw. You should look into this. But you have a cute face, you play guitar, and you have an okay voice. You’ll go far, little ethnically questionable boy from Dallas.

Randy suggests that if you take away his guitar, he wouldn’t be that good. I agree. Paula just vomited on herself.

Luke Menard

OMG – you are currently in an alarmingly popular a cappella group. I like that. And he’s singing Queen. Eek, that was a hard high note for you. But if you’re getting all up in Freddie Mercury’s shit, you should goddamn know better.

Future Idolers, you all should only sing Queen songs (but have them arrange the really high notes out of them) because everyone sounds awesome singing them. They are uniformly not boring.

Randy said he sang a tough song (haha – and said “wheelhouse”). Uh, duh. Thanks Randy. Go eat some wings.

Simon scolded the crowd for booing him. I wonder if he gets into like really nasty dom/sub play when he gets home. I don’t know if he’d be creepier as an austere mistress or a leather-clad weepy crawler. I’ve been listening to too many Savage Love podcasts.

robbie.jpgRobbie Carrico

Whoa, Robbie! Stars don’t have hair like that. Fix it! Now!

Ugh, well your car racing hobby (Robbie) certainly explains the bandana/Axl Rose hair.

Let’s see how you sing.

Ew. Hot Blooded? Foreigner? You nasty. Just give up now. You’re giving America herpes through the TV screen. I don’t even have HD and I’m worried about my sexual health right now.

Why will Paula stand up for literally anyone? Why doesn’t she have standards? It’s like she LIKES herpes. And Simon likes it. What the fuck is going on here?

Danny Noriega

This kid is like the bitchy David Alchuleta. It’s important not to confuse these two. They are both tiny little boys, but one is good and one is evil. This one’s evil. And gay. And not in the way I like.

He kind of looks like those Japanese school girls with like, the SERIOUS hair cuts and weird clothes. They can probably sing better than Danny though.

The judges seem to like how he sings. They’re telling him to think less. I don’t think that’s possible.

David Hernandez

David’s got a sexy walk. I wish I didn’t have such a fuzzy picture so I could see if he was hot.

He’s definitely doing the best of anyone so far. Those fucking background singers sound flat as always. That must be hard to sing with.

Holy ass. The last 5 words of that song were spectacular. He wins. Randy agrees. Paula agrees (of course). Simon agrees. They should hire me to work on this show.

Jason Yeager

You’re incredibly bad. Not six notes in the song and you’ve already squashed my will to live. How does it feel to be so powerful?

Also, performance-wise, he has a significant gesturing problem. Seriously, way too much dude. Nice ass though. Randy is not impressed. Mildly offended that he chose the Doobie Brothers. Simon says, “awkward and ordinary…it’s like you were drunk at a party.” Seacrest is appaled at Simon’s tactlessness.

Chikezie

Good performance so far, despite the ridiculous back-up singers. They should be fired.

Yeah, he’s a really great singer, but I think he might be cursed with a face too ugly to win American Idol. He has a radio face, if you know what I mean.

Randy’s right though. He does have a sense of ease and humor about him. Simon refuses to pronounce his name right. That might be just as hurtful as saying he’s too ugly to win Idol.

david_c.jpgDavid Cook

“I’m kind of a geek for vocab.” Hah – and then they do a montage of him saying big words. American Idol, you’re totally retarded.

Not a bad voice. For, like, Bon Jovi.

I was wondering what he was going to do with that guitar strung around his neck. He played a 4 second solo. It just doesn’t look cool enough to warrant that. And then he threw his pick into the audience. The judges enjoyed his performance. Simon thinks he’s a pussy because he likes crosswords. Ooh and he just talked back! Hisssss…

And by the way, he needs a new official picture. Stat.

David Archuleta

Goddamn it. He’s too cute. Oh Jesus. And he’s singing “Imagine.” But he’s murdering the arrangement. I’ll reserve my judgement till the end, hoping for the best.

That was so good. He’s the Barack Obama of American Idol Season Seven. He is going to pwn everyone else so fucking bad.

Paula wants to “squish you, squeeze your head off and dangle you from [her] rearview mirror.” She’s probably on drugs, no?

david_a.jpg
Yes you are.

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Not too long ago I spotted my (one of many) arch nemesis, Constantine Maroulis, in Manhattan. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this man, he was a contestant on American Idol IV. Aka the Bo Bice era. (Love the Bice.) Nway, at the time of airing there probably wasn’t, in my opinion, anyone more self involved or annoying(/gross) than Maroulils. If you watched this particular season of American Idol, you know why. If you didn’t watch this season, well, your loss. As you won’t be able to appreciate this entry for the sparkling blog diamond it is. (A part of me worries that if Maroulis ever reads this his feelings will be hurt. So, if you’re reading this, ‘stantine, this isn’t a direct personal attack on you as a person, per se. It’s an attack on your facial expressions and conceit.)


(Maroulis)

Moving forward, this spotting of Maroulis (on 5th Ave. b/w 14th and 15th) is significant for it was my second time bumping into the former Idoler. It’s as though God wanted me to say something to him this time around. Let him know my true feelings. But as I stared straight into my dear hated’s aviator’s sunglasses, making sure it was Maroulis I was seeing, and not some look alike, I found myself tongue tied. (I’m such a failure.)

After we passed one another, I awoke from the Maroulis trance, and rotated my head 180 degrees to, once again, make sure my eyes did not deceive me. However, as my head spun around, so did Maroulis‘. 3-2-1 eye contact was made. Normally this would not be a big deal, but I am convinced Maroulis believed that I was turning around for him. Now some may say that was exactly what I was doing, and those people may be correct in their assumptions. But that’s not the point. The point is, Maroulis thinks I am a fan. Which, in reality, could not be further from the truth. And I would like Maroulis to be aware. Aware of the fact that whenever his face graced my 19 inch TV, I wanted to throw tomatoes at the screen.

But the reason I feel so compelled to (online) journal this encounter, readers, is because earlier in the day a friend of mine informed me that Maroulis is joining the cast of the “Bold and the Beautiful.” Total. Anarchy. I don’t know about you, but I will definitely not (not) be dvring his soap opera debut.

*Note: Author was under the influence of four Benadryl tablets while writing this entry. Therefore, she can not be held accountable for any….of it.

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This is part 2 in the Mets Update for Girls series. You can relive the magic of part 1 here.

Note: Regarding the title of this invaluable series, BrooklynSkeptic is not wedded (ha ha) to traditional gender roles. But there they are, nonetheless.

I love inspirational sports movies. LOVE them. It is my favorite genre after epic fantasyRudy, The Karate KidVarsity Blues, Bad News Bears, Cool Runnings, Hoosiers, Remember the Titans, Miracle, Mighty Ducks, D2, D3, et cetera. Please feel free to add your own fave inspirational sports movie.

Anyway, what makes watching Dawson Leary sweat and yell and scream his team into victory so much more exciting than Michael Turner tossing around the ole pigskin?

The answer is…..

Backstory! In a movie, you get to see their trials and tribulations as the new kid in school who just can’t fit in, or the hard luck coach who just can’t get it together, or the Jamaican bobsled team who’s never seen snow before!

At this point you may be saying to yourself yes yes I’m totally with you, but what does this have to do with the Mets?

The answer is that the Mets are the only pro sports team that I would want to see in a feature-length movie. And guess what? They wouldn’t even need to cast FPJ as the All-American wonder boy or SLJ as the wisened coach. The Mets has those positions, and more, already filled by the most charming and lovable and photogenic men around!

Adorable 2006 Mets

Look at those precious poonums!

It’s not only me that thinks so. The Metropolitan Men have been getting a lot of press lately, filled with references to how much more charming and lovable they are than the Yankees.

See first the Village Voice article on Jose Reyes, “the most exciting and most handsome player in baseball”! (note: items in italics added by editor)

He is kind and adorable and loves reggaeton. Also, when you go to the games at Shea right around the 3rd Inning if you direct your attention to the jumbo-tron you will get the best Spanish lesson of your life from Profesor Reyes. Learn to say dedos or la puerta and he will melt your corazon.

 See second the NY Mag article on David Wright, who is young and handsome and corn-fed. The article explores whether David Wright is possibly too perfect. The answer? No, not really.

Here they are together:

reyeswright.jpg

There are many other talented and charming players on the team, and I encourage them to keep your eyes out for them, as I will.

So, in conclusion, when you think of the Mets in terms of inspirational sports movies it opens up a world of possibilities! When is the scene where Emilio Estevez drives out on the ice? How will we know when Rudy has finally gotten into Notre Dame? What about when, um, Kurt Russell, um, uh, uses his hatred of communism to win a hockey match? Yeah, what about that?!?

The answer is, of course, that you should to watch the Amazin’s and find out for yourself! And once you find that sweet spot, when Reyes’ every steal of a base steals your heart right along with it, then you’ve arrived and like Miss Joey Potter, you may be ready to move past that boy from the creek.

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I don’t understand this season of American Idol. It’s incredibly bad. It’s so bad I actually removed it from my dvr “series recording” list. Removed it. I rarely do this, for any show. Example: I still have “Frasier” listed to record. (That is a secret between you and me, Brooklyn Skeptic readers. And it shall never be discussed in person.) Anyway, my point is that, clearly, my standards for television are relatively low. Not including reality-tv shows. Since I hate them all. Except for Project Runway. And Extreme Makeover – Home Edition. And sometimes America’s Next Top Model. And past American Idols. And the first season of Temptation Island. But that’s it. (That’s so not it.)

Anyway, since I will no longer be tuning into this season of Suck-erican Idol, I’d like to share with you my final thoughts on the program.

To the THREE people who forgot the lyrics to their songs: Are you serious? One song. You had to memorize the lyrics to one song. And not even the whole song, pretty much just the recognizable part. And you blew it. How is this possible? Story: In 5th grade I had to memorize the Apostles’ Creed in its entirety. (I went to Catholic school.) Was it difficult? Very. Did I care about it? Not really. Though, I’m sure at the time I was convinced I would descend into the depths of hell if I couldn’t recite it by heart. But the point is, I was given a task, and completed it. Do I still remember the prayer? That’s not important. What’s important is that even at 10 years old, I was better than these American Idol-ers. (Also, I had a heavenly voice. My rendition of “Let There Be Peace on Earth” would have made you weep.)

To America: Why are you voting for that guy who looks like Nosferatu? Not only is he creepy, he’s like the weirdest person in general. Do you not feel uncomfortable watching him? I do.

Nosferatu

And Sanjaya: Sanjaya, Sanjaya, Sanjaya. I had such high hopes for Sanj, but he has what I like to refer to as, negative stage presence, and negative good style. Meaning, he is a weak singer, and his hair is insane…ly feminine. I think Sanjaya is perhaps, a woman. Which is fine, but I don’t think he knows this yet, which is why he can’t work up to his full potential. Since he is having an identity crisis. Either way, I don’t enjoy watching him/her.

sanjaya girl

That’s all I really have to say about this season of A.I. There are a couple really, really talented female singers, but they in no way compensate for the 9 people who suck.

So, American Idol, I bid you, adieu.

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I’ve recently adopted a Tuesday evening tradition. Well, it’s only been two times now, so maybe it’s more of a Tuesday evening coincidence. It’s something in the spirit of Mardi Gras – revolting hedonism on a Tuesday. This event, which I like to call “Shotdogs,” has everything but the girls gone wild.

The evening starts out at Welcome to the Johnsons, a perfectly divey bar in the Lower East Side in Manhattan (yuck, I know). I’ve been going to this bar for several years now and was something of a regular when I lived in that hood. I was there for the summer when fruit flies had infested the limes and so there was always a fine film of bugs and bug-parts on every drink you ordered. That was when I developed an irrational fear of bar fruit. I’ve witnessed the replacement of the toilet that was once so covered in band stickers, you could hardly tell what you were supposed to do with it. The new one is collecting its own piss stained collection. I’ve been there for brawls between guys who look like they fell out of a Ramones show thirty years ago – replete with blood trickling from their self-pierced safety pin earring holes. Anyway, as pleasant as all that sounds, there is one reason above all that I have been a Welcome to the Johnsons fan for so long: $2 drinks during happy hour (from when you wake up till 9 PM). You must not tell anyone about this. It’s a secret.

At Welcome to the Johnsons, the drinking begins. First, $2 whiskey and gingers. Then the shots. Last night we did a Red Headed Slut, followed by the bartender’s own concoction, Dr. Nut. Then we continue on with the regular drinks. All the while, the conversation gracefully flits from one topic to the other, weaving in nearby patrons and their opinions of The Flaming Lips, March Madness, olive juice, etc.

cupcackeeIn order for the Shotdog participants to remain reasonable, we all have to eat dinner. Dinner is hotdogs from Dash. In my case, vegetarian chili dogs. In other cases, processed meat monstrosities, choked with bacon, Fritos and other wonderful things. But that’s not all. Then come the chips and salsa from Festival Mexican Restaurant (outside of which, some guy drunkenly peed behind a Pathfinder while everyone in the bar watched with horror and glee) and then cupcakes (including one for the bartender) from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Please keep in mind, I skipped the gym to partake in this madness.

By 9:00, we are all sufficiently bloated and return home to watch American Idol while we mainline salad and try to rehydrate.

Now, I don’t know if this particular evening’s activities can be approximated in our borough. I have a feeling that it is possible, but only in Williamsburg, where girls in leggings and guys in hoodies are a dime a dozen. The real issue here is that while the people at Johnsons and the people in Williamsburg are all disgusting hipsters, the ones at Johnsons are much skeezier. In my mind, this goes a long way. So, until an absurdly underpriced dive bar and an absurdly overpriced hot dog vendor move into my current hood, I think I’ll just keep hitting up the L.E.S for my shotdog fix.

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