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Not Hot: American Idol – Season 100

American Idol sucks (sux) this season. I can feel it already. Did you watch it last night? Because I did. And I was very disappointed with its not hottness. Here’s what I thought:

That big, southern guy should’ve been better. Although, do we really need another Taylor Hicks? No, we don’t. That Korean (represent!) guy was really nervous, and it showed (pit stains). Though, I admire (but also find annoying) the fact that he took off his shoes. That takes balls, and some serious dedication to Asian tradition. But I did not like that guy who supposedly reminds people of Justin Timberlake. Yes. Definitely. This guy totally, really, truly reminds me of a busted version of Justin Timberlake. And singing my most hated song, no less. (I Don’t Wanna Be by Gavin Degraw– hate it.) Although, his performance wasn’t awful, despite his aversion to a steady head. Then there was that guy who sang a Richard Marx song. Haha, Richard Marx. Who is this guy? Me, ten years ago? Go write me a love letter. But you know who I do love? The Indian kid. I am In love with him. I may have fallen asleep during his minute and a half long performance, but boy is he cute. And 17. Then there was the Jack Osbourne look alike who is 28. 28? He looks 18. Go grow some wrinkles. And I definitely hate the last singer’s guts. He has the eyes of a sad woman, and embodies a weird eagerness that makes me want to punch. Not a fan.

So there you have it, my American Idol review. I might not watch this season if this awfulness continues. But we’ll see.

PS If Paula doesn’t learn how to articulate her thoughts into a coherent sentence soon, I’m going to post screen stills from Junior High School. Which, if you haven’t seen it already, is a musical from the 80s with Paula before her nose job.

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As I sit and eat my bowl of out-of-season blueberries (it’s okay, I like my fruit tart) I think to myself, Britney, where’s your fucking hair? And why are you so crazy? I am so confused right now. It seems as though Britney was less crazy when she was with K-Fed. Am I wrong? Am I? No, I am not.

Here’s what I want to know: What was Britney thinking when she (literally) gave herself a buzzcut? Who tricked her into believing she had the style/face to pull off a head with no hair? And what was she on? I speculate the Brit was intoxicated with some sort of illegal substance, perhaps a magical pill that causes one to hallucinate he or she is Sinead O’Connor. Or Montell Williams. But, I have to admit, unlike the rest of the world I can, to a certain degree, relate to Britney. Not because I’ve memorized the dance moves to “Crazy” and “Oops I Did It Again,” or have imagined myself walking hand in hand with Justin Timberlake on a white sand beach while white horses gallop freely along the shore, but because from time to time I’ve considered shaving off my own hair. But I don’t ever to through with it, mostly because I have an ill-shaped head, but also because 1) I’m not completely without superficiality, 2) I’m not artistic enough to appreciate myself…in that way, and 3) I don’t think I could pull it off. I would like to think that one day I might be ballsy/confident enough to shave my head, but seeing as how (at the moment) all my friends are shallow, and we all know how influential friends are, I don’t think I will be taking an electric shaver to my head anytime soon. And you know what? I bet Britney’s friends….even shallower than mine. Which means she is obviously going through some sort of nervous breakdown and cannot think clearly. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk. And in a recent interview with her ex-beau, the deadbeat claimed Briney was incredibly insecure (about her looks), and really, really loved sex. One might think that if Brit Brit was feeling down about her bod and face, she wouldn’t have, perhaps, shaved her head, or spent the past few months gorging herself with cheetos and ignoring the treadmill. And don’t get me wrong, I know it’s difficult to go to the gym, as my dust-collecting gym membership card has not been used in the past (lot of) months. But I think, and I might be going out on a limb here, that if I was a millionaire and therefore had the means to hire a personal trainer and chef, I would be motivated enough to step away from processed foods. Although, who knows. Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I too would marry a backup dancer, put Stephen Dorff in my music video, have two kids, wear a shirt to the premiere of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” that said “I have the golden ticket” with an arrow pointing towards my pregnant belly, get divorced, dye my hair black, then bonde, then black again, have lots of threesomes, hang out with Paris Hilton, stop hanging out with Paris Hilton, never see my children, sit in a pile of my own vomit, shave my head and then the next day wear a weird wig with sunglasses, and go mental. May. Be.

I would like to say though, I think Britney Spears needs help. I believe her recent behavior is a reflection of her mental instability, and that nine years of living under a microscope has taken its toll on her. Women in the media are scrutinized more than anyone else, and it’s really no wonder this poor girl has become, like her hit song, crazy. I think we’re all familiar with how deconstructive stardom at a young age can be to a person, and it is our duty to send out positive wishes to our good friend, Britney Spears. I will begin.

Get better soon, Britney. No matter what anyone says about you, I will always remember your performance at the 2001 superbowl. Unstoppable. And hot.

PS. I lied up above. About the blueberries, and how I like my fruit tart. I actually like my fruit to be really sweet (like candy!).

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