Phoenix Day 3 1/2

This morning my husband ate a grapefruit he picked from one of my dad's fruit trees... and no that's not a euphemism. Yesterday we watched birds eat olives off a tree in a bank parking lot. The southwest is so much more interesting than Jersey. Back East the most exciting thing we see is a squirrel gathering his nuts... and not that's not another euphemism.

We hiked in the mountains yesterday where our pounding footprints startled a covey of partridges. Of course, this meant having "Come On Get Happy" getting stuck in my head for the rest of the hike.

Last night, we turned on the fake fire outside by the pool. It was chilly outside, so we were given Snuggies to wear. We looked like cult members... as seen on TV.

Bad Hair Week

What is Arizona doing to my hair? Is it the lack of humidity? Hard water? The giant bottle of Suave Clean Rinse in the guest room shower?

If my hair were any flatter it would actually be inside my head.

I look like Steven Perry from Journey.

I need to buy a hat. But not an Arizona Cardinals Super Bowl Hat. As an Eagles' fan, I would rather look like an '80's rocker than a turncoat.

Greetings From Phoenix

I'm visiting my dad in Phoenix waiting for the warm temps to begin. Yesterday it was a brisk 65 degrees.

We left Philly in some of the worst weather we've seen this winter. The overnight snowfall was replaced in the morning with sleet and then eventually rain. As I was getting into the car for our drive to the airport, my foot went through a snow pile and landed in several inches of ice cold water. My husband made me go back in and change my sock before continuing on. Smart move on his part. I don't know about you, but I believe there are few things in life worse than a wet sock.

Of course, now I'll have Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" stuck in my head because, when it was a hit, we used to sing, "Hit Me With Your Wet Sock." Back then, song parodies were all the rage.

American Idol 1/27/09

For some reason I have a fever, which I fear will make me crankier than usual. So, I've decided to pre-apologize for anything cruel (but not unusual) I might say. Unless it's about Paula. You sleep with a contestant, you deserve everything you get. Her behavior was and still is... wait for it, wait for it... a-paul-ing.

First of all, Randy's shirt was one of the most hideous garments I have ever seen. Perhaps it was my fevered brain but he looked like he was being attacked by giant spiders. But I did love the Journey flashback. Randy was very groovy in an 80's kind of way. I just wish more of the auditioners sounded like Steven Perry.

Joshua Ulloa likes being compared to Justin Guarini which is weird since most people say, "Who is Justin Guarini?"

Sharon Wilbur brought her shih tzu and her Britney Spears impression. For some reason, her performance made the female judges make-out which was kind of creepy considering a dog was watching.

Kaniswa Finnie managed to sing Anita Baker worse than Anita Baker. (Anita Baker songs have chased my husband out of many a drug store.) Kaniswa's off-key was off-key.

Miss Forida Latina USA Jalissa Veloz wants to be crowned the next American Idol. After hearing her sing, she better hope there's a swimsuit competition.

Make Darren Darnell a Production Assistant for the show. He could be part cheerleader, part audience wrangler and part grief counselor. He cried before his audition, we cried during.

Naomi Sykes sounded like a cat whose tail was caught in a vacuum cleaner when she tried to hit the Minnie Ripperton high note. At least her friend got to sit on Randy's lap.

Jasmine Murray is beautiful in that supermodel "she really shouldn't be gorgeous but she is" kind of way. I'm not sure if she can sing. Whenever I hear that ridiculous Fergie song I just try to tune out and go to my happy place.

George Ramirez was barely audible but his singing was almost chant-like. It made me want to do yoga. It's always fascinating to see a person who takes everything literally. He was born without the kidding gene. He'll make a great physics professor someday. A boring physics professor, but a great one.

Ann Mairie Boskovich didn't flip out, took the judges criticism and made necessary changes. Her performance should be a lesson to all.

Michael Perrelli was an emotional wreck. Don't wear a smiley-face backpack if you're always on the verge of tears. Ryan was right when he said, "Kiss your mother. Don't do that." What a jerk.

TK Hash came back this year after being rejected last year and this time he made it. This is why you don't give the camera the finger and say "F*** Simon" when you leave the audition room. You may decide to give it a try 12 months later.

The producers should have a giant trashcan outside the audition room for all the posters of the people who don't get passed on to Hollywood. There's nothing sadder than a weeping teenager being followed by a mother who is carrying a "He's our American Idol" sign.

The judges seem happier this year. Is it Kara? Is it anti-depressants? Is it bad plastic surgery that gives them all permanent smiles? Or have they all been drinking from Paula's Coke cup?

Lyrics By Michael Stewart

My husband tried to recite a poem for me in honor of our "20 years of wedded bliss" but he couldn't keep a straight face past the first line or two.

The "poem" was actually lyrics from a really bad Frank Sinatra song called "I Love My Wife." After hearing the tune on the car radio, he came home, looked it up online, printed out the words and launched into his tribute to me.

Here's our favorite part.

Like bait that wriggles
And it makes catfish bite
A lady jiggles
And my eyes gotta light
Upon so sweet a sight

And if I shake
Break out in spots
Don't fret, it's not swine fever dear
Your swine has merely got the hots

If rosy lips invite me
Well, that's life
But just in case you couldn't guess
I love my wife

You can understand why we both cracked up during his touching moment.

I have a feeling he's going to be saying to me, "Your swine has merely got the hots" for a very long time.

Putting The Freak Back In Freakonomics

I've never believed that other women reflect poorly on me just because we share the same xx chromosomes. But, when the woman holding the highest political office in this great nation of ours says something utterly insane, my vagina becomes red with embarrassment.

According to Drudge, Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi wants birth control put into the stimulus package.

Please tell me we're all being Punk'd.

The revelation came during an exchange Sunday morning on ABC's THIS WEEK.

STEPHANOPOULOS: Hundreds of millions of dollars to expand family planning services. How is that stimulus?

PELOSI: Well, the family planning services reduce cost. They reduce cost. The states are in terrible fiscal budget crises now and part of what we do for children's health, education and some of those elements are to help the states meet their financial needs. One of those - one of the initiatives you mentioned, the contraception, will reduce costs to the states and to the federal government.

STEPHANOPOULOS: So no apologies for that?

PELOSI: No apologies. No. we have to deal with the consequences of the downturn in our economy.

Yes, the economy will be so much better if we could just get rid of all those nasty humans.

First of all, who needs birth control during a bad economy? Nothing will keep a man flaccid quite like unemployment.

Secondly, since men make more money than women, why don't we just institute a Chinese-esque policy of allowing-- in our case-- only girl babies so, in the future, employers won't have to pay their employees as much? (Hey, if she can have a ridiculous economic plan, so can I.)

Thirdly, if we reduce the current birth rate, who is going to pay for all the socialist programs she holds so near and dear 30 years from now? (They call it "the replacement rate" for a reason.)

Sorry, but doesn't her plan sound like something a paternalistic douchebag would create? "Why, if we just stopped those whores from having little whore babies, we could fix this here economic debacle." (Read the previous quote with a Southern, high-falutin' drawl while chewing on a cigar and wearing a white, three-piece suit and a string tie, as Pelosi and her compadres always imagine such paternalistic douchebags to be Southerners.)

Pelosi's not-so-bright idea goes way beyond promoting personal responsibility. Our government should never make its citizens feel guilty about reproducing just as our government shouldn't reward or punish those who choose not to. This isn't the Third World.

The administration she supports is going to try to spend our way out of a recession even though history shows it never works. Now, it appears, Pelosi wants us to screw our way out of a recession but only if it doesn't result in more needy Americans. I don't think this is what the Republicans had in mind when they were chanting, "Drill, baby, drill."

Twitter Me This, Batman

First MySpace, then Facebook (which I still accidentally call MyFace) and now Twitter. That's right, I've taken the Twitter plunge. So far, I've only posted five times but I'm sure I'll make it more interesting once I figure out what I'm doing. If you'd like to follow along, please go to my profile.

Derrick With The Mustache And Mustang Derrick

This is my husband's favorite commercial. With the exception of 30 Rock, this 30 second T-Mobile advertisement makes him laugh harder than any sitcom currently on the air.

"What a drag, dude," has become a catch phrase around our humble abode.

Vatican Launches Pope You Tube Channel

I wonder if they'll videotape the Pope's reaction to Two Girls/One Cup?

(Here's my friend Bonnie McFarlane reacting to that very video on O & A's radio show.)

Vice-President Bidumb Strikes Again

The man is the king of inappropriate jokes. The look on our new President's face after Biden insults Justice Roberts is priceless. Prepare to see this look often over the next four years.

American Idol 1/21/09

Ryan Seacrest needs to get different boxer shorts. I could see the outline through his pants when he moved. Perhaps Hanes should send him a crate of boxer-briefs? All the comfort of boxers with the support of briefs and hopefully no unsightly male pantyline.

Tonight Louisville, home of Churchill Downs. The Kentucky Derby is known as the fastest two minutes in sports. Although, I bet that's how Madonna describes sex with A Rod.

Tiffany Shedd really loves that Russian-Mail-Order-Bride look. She failed to maintain her promised positive attitude after being rejected, however. Watching her mother sway to her off-key warbling was priceless. I'll say it again, that kind of undeserved self-esteem can only lead to taking taking off one's clothes for money.

Fellow Philly native Joanna Pacitti should be proud of herself for losing her horrible Philly accent. (I know, because I had one too.) I paused when Kara recognized her from her former recording career. Could the fix be in? It seemed doubly strange when Kara added, "Those were real tears." Why did she feel the need to convince us it was authentic?

Mark Mudd butchered one of my favorite George Jones songs White Lightning. But I don't know why the judges messed with him since he looked like he could butcher somebody for real. After the threat, I think his name will continue to be Mudd.

Brent Keith Smith must have felt like a five-year-old watching his Mormon parents fight-- you know, one dad, two moms.

Randy really needs to develop a new look when he's suffering through a bad singer. He either laughs maniacally or looks up to the sky with a half-open mouth.

Matt Giraud normally performs Dueling Piano which is something I can't stand. I promise not to hold it against him. Although I will hold it against him that Simon said he sounded like Elliot Yamin. If you want to sound like Elliot you better bring it, dog.

I think Ross The Super Nerd Plavsic is semi-retarded. There's lacking social skills and then there's making everyone in the room uncomfortable. At the risk of sounding harsh, this is why there will always be men willing to pay for sex.

(Lost is on in 26 minutes! I am sooooooooooo psyched! Okay, back to concentrating on AI.)

Alexis Grace is a stay-at-home mom who really should marry her baby's father. They're engaged. Why people wait is a complete mystery. Just get married already! Geesh. I hate when people make me sound like my grandma.

Aaron Williamson is a screamer. Screamers make me tense. But when he said that he wanted to be America's Next Top Model, I understood why he chooses screaming over words. But, boy oh boy, would I love to see him at karaoke at 1 AM.

Rebecca Garcia was crushed when she was told her performance was funny. I'm more disturbed that a person with no obvious sense of humor was voted funniest in high school. Perhaps that was a joke as well.

Of course, every episode needs a touching story. Tonight we heard from once homeless Lanisha Young. She's cute, she's a survivor, and she can sing. She'll be an inspiration.

Gotta go, Lost is on.

Class Act

Here's our new White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel at yesterday's Presidential Inauguration. The little girl in the background adds a nice touch.

American Idol 1/20/09

After watching today's Presidential Inauguration, it seems kind of weird to watch a show called American Idol when it appears we have an actual American Idol in the White House. But, will Barack Obama become the Carrie Underwood or the Taylor Hicks of politics? Only time will tell.

Fortunately, tonight's episode is only an hour long. Two hours of Idol is proving to be one hour too many.

Tatiana Del Toro, she of the tight dress, annoying laugh and disappearing accent is going to Hollywood. Her psychic predicted she would make it into the Top 12. My pyschic predicted that I'll put my foot through the screen if I have to listen to that laugh for 10 weeks. Fun? Paula says she's fun? Roller coasters are fun. Wine with friends is fun. Tatiana Del Toro is about as much fun as doing your taxes during a root canal.

Dean Anthony Bradford made some of the strangest faces I've ever seen but I liked his plaid coat. Simon didn't. But, then again, Simon doesn't like anything that isn't a black T-shirt.

Jesus Valenzula wore an interview suit but Simon still wasn't impressed. The other judges decided to send him to Hollywood after meeting his kids. Note to Dean Anthony Bradford: next time rent a couple of wee ones and outfit them in teeney plaid coats if you want to make it to the next round.

Dalton Powell can solve a Rubick's cube but he can't seem to solve the puzzle of why some people think they can sing when they so obviously can't.

It appears the Paula/Simon tension has been replaced with the Kara/Simon tension. Can a tense three-way be in Simon's future?

Akilah Askew-Gholston was a regular Norm Crosby with her malapropisms. Although her poor pronunciation of medical terms would make for a hilarious episode of House.

Annie Murdoch chose a necklace that made her look like she just had a tracheotomy. After hearing her sing, I think she did.

Adam Lampert has David Cooke's hair and Clay Aiken's theatrical voice. Paula said he was awesome. I guess he'll be sleeping with her soon.

Kai Kalama has a sweet face, a good voice and he takes care of his momma. I'm guessing girls across America will be Googling his name tonight... especially after he said he doesn't have a girlfriend. Maybe Akilah Askew Gholston can take care of his mom while he's on the show. She seems to know a lot about medicine.

Goodbye 43 Hello 44

Do you think President Obama (tomorrow I'll start calling him Oprahbama again) will thank Americans in "all 57 states" during his inaugural speech? That would be awesome.

I'm starting to feel sorry for our new Commander In Chief. With an 80% approval rating there is no place to go but down. No man can live up to this kind of hype. This vague "change" people crave will only lead to crashing disappointment.

At the risk of sounding like a crank, put me in the 20% disapproval group. President Obama will have to do a lot of good to undo the bad of picking Joe Bidumb (no I will not call him Biden... not even today) as his running mate. This was such a colossally stupid decision that I don't trust his judgement on anything else.

Bidumb is a gaffe machine whose new nickname, I fear, will become Mr. International Incident. On Oprah yesterday, we discovered that his "beautiful wife, Jill" has the same brain-to-mouth problem as her husband when she revealed that the new VP was also offered the position of Secretary of State. Do you hear that noise? That's Hillary Clinton's head exploding.

On the fashion front-- and who really cares about anything else-- I am not happy with Michelle Obama's mother-of-the-bride suit. It's too matronly and formal for a morning event, even one that involves church. (My husband says she always dresses like a Division III Women's basketball coach.) I HOPE, when it comes to her wardrobe today, there is CHANGE.

Personally, I like it when our first ladies wear red, white and blue on Inauguration Day. Who can forget Nancy Reagan's red cinnamon bun head gear?

President Oprahbama and Vice-President Bidumb

I have less than 24 hours to get used to the idea.

Apparently, security at the $170 million party is tighter than Kim Kardashian's Spanx. (Had I been blogging 20 years ago, I would have said "tighter than Charo's girdle.")

I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that great gobs of cash are being spent on keeping the chosen one alive. The idea of President Bidumb is just too much to handle. (With all this Lincoln imagery being tossed about, I'm surprised Joe Bidumb didn't send Barack tickets to the Ford Theater as a "thank you.")

I've never been one to complain about the high cost of inaugural parties but I am one to complain about the hypocrisy of people who complained about Bush's price tag yet remain eerily silent when the B.O. gang freely spends tax payer money during an economic crisis. I'm just saying is all.

Yes, I'll be glued to the tube tomorrow morning. But, unlike many of the Oprahbama supporters, I've been glued to the tube for every inauguration since I can remember. For me, history didn't just start on November 4.

The Eagle Has Landed

Oh well, at least the Eagles played a great second half. I'll be in Phoenix during the Super Bowl so it'll be fun to watch the town go crazy.

It'll be interesting to see if Donovan McNabb and Andy Reid still have jobs tomorrow. Although, I think the city may still be on a Phillie's Championship high, so this defeat may not hurt as much as in years past.

Dissing In The Rain

Last night I wanted to slap the toupee off PBS' Patrick Stoner's head. In both his intro and outro to the musical classic-- and my all-time favorite movie "Singing In The Rain" he listed the film's stars as Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O'Connor and Cyd Charisse.

Not once did he mention Jean Hagen, who stole the show as the ditzy Lina Lamont and received an Academy Award nomination for her efforts. This isn't the first time I've seen this happen. Just because Ms. Hagen didn't become a major star doesn't mean her contribution to the greatest musical of all time should be overlooked.

As a kid, I thought her performance was hilarious and I used to drive my family nuts with my impression of her saying, "I can't stand him" and "What do you think I am, dumb or something?"

Bye Bye Blackberry

Mr. Almost-President, step away from the Blackberry, sir.

Despite legal and security hurdles, president-elect Barack Obama says he has a plan to retain his beloved Blackberry once he moves into the White House next week.

Interviewed by CNN Friday, Obama said the smartphone was among the tools that he would use to stay in touch with real Americans and avoid becoming trapped inside the presidential "bubble."

I'm beginning to suspect he uses the smartphone to make himself feel smart.

What's next, his own Facebook page so he can cyber poke or throw internet snowballs at members of Congress?

I just can't wait until his Blackberry information is hacked or, even worse, it falls out of his pocket while he's peeing at the United Nations. If that happens, I'm sure the Secret Service will ROTFL.

From now on, I'm going to refer to President Oprahbama's Blackberry as his Half-Blackberry. Maybe that's what the folks who are protecting him can call it behind his back. A little levity might make the situation far less infuriating.

Snarge: My New Favorite Word

According to the Urban Dictionary...

Snarge: The residue smeared on an airplane after a bird/plane collision. The snarge is generally all that is left of the bird. Every day numerous samples are taken off of airplanes and sent in for DNA testing to help map out what kinds of birds are colliding with airplanes. Both the FFA and military have a vested interest in these results.

Damn birds!

Our enemies spent years trying to bring down our planes yet all it takes is a flock of Canada geese? Kill them all, I say! The terrorists and the geese! Personally, I'm tired of hopping over their droppings when I run around my neighborhood lake. (From the geese, not the terrorists. Although grown men defecating where we walk would slow down our economy.)

When I board a UsAir plane bound for Phoenix in two weeks, I just hope I hear over the soundsystem, "This is your pilot, "Sully" Sullenberger III."

And, yes, I'm going to volunteer to sit in the emergency exit row.

Bush's Saddle

Earlier this evening, I watched President Bush's farewell speech followed by the Mel Brook classic "Blazing Saddles." All I can say is, "Gentlemen, please rest your sphincters."

I didn't always agree with President Bush, but I believe him when he says he had the country's best interests at heart.

Of course, the Bush haters will ignore the fact that he kept us safe, freed women from rape and torture in Iraq and Afghanistan and did more for AIDS victims in Africa than Bono. I think Madeline Khan sums up my feelings about the Anti-Bush crowd best when she sings the title of the song "I'm So Tired."



I was nine-years-old when "Blazing Saddles" was released in 1974. It might explain why I honestly thought I would see an African-American President in my lifetime. Mocking racism was the first step in improving race relations... or so I thought.

It's thirty-four years later and what I thought would happen has finally happened. I just didn't think we would have this African-American as President. Unfortunately, Barack Obama is the type who can say about himself, "Ooh, baby, you are so talented! And they are so DUMB!"

The Mess That Is Mitt-Care

When Presidential candidate Mitt Romney first exploded onto the political scene, he seemed like the ideal candidate: a devout, handsome, successful, well-spoken businessman with a political pedigree who is devoted to his good-looking MS-stricken wife. A better politician couldn't be made in a laboratory.

But I couldn't vote for him. Not because he was Mormon (hell, I loooove the Osmonds) or because he has freakishly coiffed hair (never trust a man who spends too much time on his 'do... see John Edwards) but because he passed, what I thought, was a ridiculous mandatory health insurance plan in Massachusetts.

According to the DC Examiner, his plan isn't just ridiculous it's disastrous.

Here's my favorite line:

In the state with the highest physician/patient ratio in the nation, some people now have to wait more than a year for a simple physical exam.

More than a year? I get pissy with my doc if he makes me wait a few days.

In the meantime, Hawaii has introduced online health care, and the fine folks at CVS are rolling out inexpensive Minute Clinics across the nation and most of us have a choice of retailers that offer $4 prescriptions (Four-page .pdf of drugs here). There are myriad ways, other than a Canadian-based system, to solve our current problems. How about we try those first?

American Idol 1/14/09

I admit, American Idol fatigue has set in. According to Nielsen, ratings were down 10% from last year's season premiere so, apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way.

I still like the show but instead of AI being "Appointment TV" I sense it's becoming "I Happen To Be Sitting Down And There's Nothing Else On I Really Want To Watch TV." Although, tonight I'd much rather be challenging Maven, my computer Scrabble nemesis.

The kids are in Kansas City tonight, home of David Cooke and amazing beef BBQ. One of the Production Assistants should have told Randy that KC is in Missouri, not Kansas. It's kind of embarrassing when a successful, admired American doesn't know a damn thing about geography. He should set a better example for the kids... you know, the kids who have no musical talent and will have to rely on that crazy thing called education. Yo, dog, put down the bass and pick up a map.

Chelsea Marquardt is proof that overly-loving family members can screw somebody up with way too much support and encouragement. The male judges were particularly cruel when suggesting she sounded like a cat being dropped off the Empire State Building. Maybe Chelsea should have worn a bikini?

Ashley Anderson screwed up the lyrics to a song written by Simon Cowell! Damn girl, that was majorly stupido! I don't know why she got four yeahs. If you screw up the suck up, you should be sent packing. Never screw up the suck up!

Casey Carlson looks like she just stepped off the set of High School Musical but eventually her country voice will annoy the hell out of Simon. The Brit still doesn't get Nashville.

Brian Hettler made the big mistake of showing too much chest hair. His second mistake was trying to sing Aretha Franklin-- or anything for that matter. Are we really supposed to believe that he studied opera? I think he's mistaken and he actually studied Oprah. Man, there's delusional and then there's cuckoo-lusional.

The crying montage makes me think that the show should be sponsored by Prozac.

James Michael Advance, Billy Vinson, Chris Jones and Deandre Hopkins all sound like they've had their testicles removed. They were more eunuch than unique.

Von Smith is the Sam Harris for the New Millenium. (See first season of Star Search.) He's Justin Timberlake meets Ethel Merman.

Jason Castro's brother, Michael, decided to give it a shot this year. It appears crazy hair runs in the family. I'd hate to be their mom during family portrait day.

Matt Brieitzke is the shot of testosterone this show needs. There always has to be one man who appeals to the adults. I just hope he doesn't dedicate too many songs to his kid. Just because he thinks his son is special doesn't mean we do.

Jazz-- aka Jasmine Joseph-- looks like Kirsten Dunst's nutty sister... and I don't mean that as a compliment.

I sure hope Jessica Page Furney is a lesbian because she'll make a fortune on the Lilith Fair-type circuit... and I mean that as a compliment.

It was very sweet when the one rapping sister was still happy for the other rapping sister even though she didn't make it. She should be the winner of Sister Idol.

Jamar Rogers needs to take it down a notch. His best friend Danny Gokey broke everybody's heart when he told the story of his recently deceased wife. It's not easy to perform when you're grieving. I know, I've done it. I'm glad he has the distraction.

Okay, there's nothing funnier than a fat, ugly chick singing "You ain't woman enough to take my man" off-key. That's YouTube gold! (Yes, calling her fat and ugly is harsh but watching this show makes one brutally honest.)

Anoop Desai will be looking out over a sea of Noop-dog signs if he makes it into the finals. I like that he'll bring a little Bollywood to Hollywood.

In a very uncomfortable moment, Andrew Lang was cheered on by cheerleaders. I discovered there's nothing sadder than a weeping cheerleader. Had they been hot cheerleaders, I'm sure the male viewers would have found the weeping to be extremely erotic.

Band leader Asa Barnes performed a miracle by singing a Michael Jackson song in tune. If somebody actually sings Stevie Wonder well, I may have to consider going back to church.

Michael Nicewonder may not have the chops but he certainly has the look. Yes, that was sarcasm. I don't know what was more pathetic, the bad haircut or the obvious mother issues? With a name like Nicewonder he should be a superhero, ridding the world of overbearing moms and absentee fathers.

Dennis Brigman reminds me of Cat from the British sci-fi show Red Dwarf. Randy shouldn't have caved into the begging and sob story. Now everybody will do it... and if they beg while wearing a bikini they'll go straight to the finals.

Mia Conley hit the Minnie Ripperton high note... sort of. Then she hit a compassionate low note when she said God was going to get the judges. I think God should issue a restraining order.

Okay, tornado victim Lil Rounds sang Stevie Wonder well. Looks like I'm going to be busy on Sunday morning.

American Idol 1/13/09 Season Premiere

I said I wasn't going to watch this year yet, here I am, tuning in to Season 28 of American Idol. Admittedly, I have missed the train wreck that is Paula Abdul. If she's not all highed-up tonight, I may have to switch over to Scrubs at 9.

Kara DioGuardi is the new judge and her addition signals some changes in America's most watched show. In an incredibly stupid and perplexing move, producers have promised fewer bad singers. I think I can speak for millions of others when I say, "I love the bad singers!" Without bad singers, AI is just another annoying talent show. Really, they only need three good singers... one to win, one to come in second and a third to lose to a bad singer mid-way through the competition. If you keep bad singers from making it into the finals, there won't be anybody left to check into Celebrity Rehab. (Seriously, when did Nicky McKibbin become so skanky?)

Oooh, Randy's pudgy again, that's a good sign. And Simon has bigger man boobs than in years past. I'm sure a lot of viewers wanted to push Ryan Seacrest into the Grand Canyon as he introduced the auditions from Arizona, but I still think he's a kick-ass live television host. I just can't jump on the "I hate Seacrest" bandwagon.

Tuan Nugyen kicked the show off with a tap dancing routine. Gene Kelly is rolling over in his grave. In fact, Gene Kelly trying to kick his way out of a coffin would have made for more interesting choreography.

The pierced and tattooed Emily Hughes ditched her band for a shot at superstardom. I'm not sure if I can look at her ears for the rest of the season. Hasn't she seen what happens to a person's earlobes when they decide that the African tribal elongation look-- aka gauging-- is no longer hip and cool?

The weepy, costumed Randy Madden embarrassed nearly-middle-age executives everywhere by warbling Bon Jovi. But his rejection did prompt Paula to throw something at Simon and then give him the middle finger which was mildly entertaining.

Somebody named J.B. sang like a bird but I thought it was a bit overly dramatic and a tad cruel for the camerman to zoom in on his dad's face when he revealed that his family was struggling financially. Can't you leave the guy with a touch of pride?

Michael Gurr was "really really" nervous and "really really" scared and, no surprise really really bad. His psycho performance was breathtaking. He said nerves got the best of him but I think it was genetics that really really got the best of him.

Next came the bad singing montage. Will Kunick is my new hero. DJ Bradley was bad but he can't hold a candle to Will. Shawn Vasquez is the type of guy you prayer doesn't move in next door. But why didn't we hear more Will? More Will! More Will! More Will!

X-Ray ticked off Simon immediately. But X-Ray didn't need an x-ray machine because when he danced in his baggy pants you could practically see his swinging package. I know it's hot in Phoenix but a man should still wear underpants.

Arianna Afsar is an adorable saint. She needs to be the next Miss America. Her Adopt A Grandfriend Program is incredibly sweet. I sure hope she isn't corrupted by fame. I also hope the innocent one didn't see X-Ray dance.

Elijah Scarlett, he of the freakishly low voice, should have had a sense of humor and sang a Bee Gee's song. Paula was right. He should go on Voiceover Idol.

Lea Marie Golde wants to be a singer/songwriter but I think she's destined to be stripper/porn star. It's never a good sign when your self-esteem is larger than your talent. It usually leads to taking your clothes off someday.

Stevie Wright was named after Phoenix native Stevie Nicks but she sounded more like Bonnie Raitt.

Michael Sarver, as an oil rig dude revealed he has the fifth most dangerous job. The fourth most dangerous job, of course, is keeping drugs away from Paula Abdul. (Why was Paula wearing a dress that made her look like she was naked under an apron?)

Bikini girl aka Katrina Darrell managed to get herself some airtime. I'm sure she'll be mega-popular online as well. The fact that the men said yes and the woman initially said no speaks volumes. The woman judges behaved poorly and the male judges behaved as expected. (Although it was fun watching Ryan kiss a girl for the first time in his life.) Personally, I think Katrina has a little boy's ass but, let's face it, any ass looks good when it's supported by whore shoes.

You shouldn't live in Arizona if your nickname is Sexual Chocolate. In the desert, chocolate melts. I'm just sayin' is all.

Brianna Quijada has a perfect last name for Scrabble. She probably won't go far in the competition but she should consider pursuing a career as a Cruise Ship Director. And I mean that as a compliment.

Is Deanna Brown the next Kellie Pickler? I loved her line, "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, unless you audition next year."

Cody Sheldon is this year's gayish teen that all the little girls will love love love. Since he makes horror movies all the little boys will love love love him too.

Nerdy Alex Wagner Trugman answered Simon's "What three countries would you be popular in?" briliantly. He sounds like a black man and has a quirky sense of humor. He's Clay Aiken with jokes.

Scott McIntire is a blind guy with beautiful eyes. For this reason alone, I like him. He was probably the only male in the room who couldn't care less about bikini girl. Okay, I like him for that reason as well. He's smart, cute, musically talented and he has an inspirational story. Just give him a contract now!

Tomorrow night is Kansas City, home of David Cooke.

Mugging For The Camera

As I was washing our breakfast dishes yesterday morning, I noticed a chip on the rim of my husband's Associated Press coffee mug. He was heartbroken. He found/stole it years ago at a hotel in Vermont where an AP meeting had just taken place in one of the function rooms.

After convincing him that it needed to be tossed into the trash, we dug through our mug reserves to find a suitable replacement.

Much to our delight, we discovered that we still had Janet Reno.



Of course, it was much funnier back when Janet Reno was Attorney General. But now that many of the old Clintonistas are helping Obama, her name will no doubt be brought up, making our mug relevant once again.

A Master's Degree In Stupidity

We're only 12 days into the new year, but I think I've already found the winner of the 2009 Whore Of The Year Award.

From the Telegraph.Co.Uk...

A student who is auctioning her virginity to pay for a masters degree in Family and Marriage therapy has seen bidding hit £2.5million ($3.7m).

My head, she spins!

Which is funnier yet more appalling? A 22-year-old who thinks she's worthy of a 3.7 million dollar entrance fee or a whore who wants to someday counsel families and married couples? Somebody call VH-1! I think we have a new reality show in the making!

Natalie Dylan got the idea for her online auction from her sister who paid for her own tuition by fellating dudes for cash during a three week stretch. I would have loved to have sat next to her in Creative Writing Class when she read from her paper "What I Did On My Summer Vacation."

Mom and dad must be so proud.

My only hope is that Natalie Dylan is really a female Sascha Baron Cohen and this whole stunt is just part of a Borat-type movie. Otherwise, our whole culture is just going down the dumper.

Ms. Dylan seriously needs to get a job, preferably one that requires hard work and not hard men. The school needs to bounce her whore-y ass out on the streets and then totally revamp their Women's Studies Department. And the family of these two nitwits should just pray they don't go for their PhD's.

A Still Tongue Makes A Happy Life

Oh behave, baby! The hipsters over at AMCTV.com are now showing episodes of the 1960's metaphor-laden series The Prisoner.

Patrick McGoohan as Number Six is sexy in a Steve McQueen middle-aged, Irish, bad-boy kind of way. The producers of the show must have been counting on his sex-appeal which might explain why his uniform is so much more stylish than the other villagers. The rest of them look like they're working at Hot Dog On A Stick.

A few years ago, we caught several episodes on our local PBS station, including the surprise ending. But, even though we know the outcome, we're still riveted by the mystery. Plus the giant beach ball on security detail is hilarious.

This past weekend at Stitches in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, my husband used the Village motto "A still tongue makes a happy life" on a heckler. Needless to say, it is now officially part of his comedy repertoire.

We're looking forward to firing up the laptop, sitting under a blanket on the Monroe Cuddler and watching the remaining 17 installments. We need something to appeal to our mid-century sensibilities until Mad Men resumes later this year.

In the meantime, as the Villagers say, "Be seeing you."

Oprahbama's Latest Decisions

CNN's Dr. Sanjay Gupta for Surgeon General.

Was Dr. Drew Pinsky busy?

Leon Panetta as the head of the Central Intelligence Agency.

This is not the type of man who will instill fear in our enemies. This is the type of man who does the taxes for the men who can instill fear in our enemies. I could beat him in a bitch-slapping contest.

Pledges to open up a dialogue with Hamas.

I hope he brings his Terrorist-to-English Dictionary.

"At this particular moment, only government can provide the short-term boost necessary to lift us from a recession this deep and severe," he said.

Only government? I think "only government" can clean up my exploding head.

How many days until the inauguration?

Mamma Grizzly And Media Malpractice

Palin's analysis of Caroline Kennedy and the mainstream media's obsession with class is dead on. Her slam of Katie Couric is priceless. I still believe that McCain's choice of Palin as his running mate was brilliant, but his handling-- and dare I say exploitation-- of her was horrendous. I hope she continues to speak out in the future.

Rejected Us Weekly Fashion Police Jokes 22

I have been a Top Cop for Us Weekly's Fashion Police since 2001. (Why do men always call it "U.S." Weekly even when they see it spelled with a big "U" and a small "s"?)

Some weeks many of my jokes are published while other weeks I have to settle for just one or two. Below is a partial list of comments that never made it to the newsstand.

Note: The ones marked "Accepted" are my comments that got in. The ones marked "Rejected" are the ones that didn't.



Janet Jackson

Rejected: "Welcome to Benihana."


Kelly Osbourne

Rejected: How can a sarong be so wrong?


Kim & Kourtney Kardashian

Accepted: Who could have guessed these girls were into geometry?


Courtney Love

Rejected: What Madonna would wear if she were homeless.


Eva Longoria Parker

Rejected: Perfect for dusting the red carpet.


Brad Pitt & Tilda Swinton

Rejected: Wrinkled is the new frayed.

The Idiot Entertainer Of The Week Award Goes To...

... Annie Lennox!



Earlier this week, the '80's pop diva who bears a striking resemblance to a Praying Mantis, led a group of equally washed-up celebrities (look up "smug" in the dictionary and you'll see a pic of Bianca Jagger) and brain-addled protesters on a march against Israel. It was at follow-up pep rally she made the brilliant remark, "The resolution to peace is by negotiation." Oh, if only she were alive when Hitler invaded Poland. (She missed it by 15 years.)



I can only assume that in the few days since her public statement, Lennox has found herself in a shit storm without an umbrella. How else can you explain the recent clarifications she has made on her official website?

As you are probably aware, I've been pretty busy over the last few days, talking to media and press with regard to the dire situation in Gaza. I want to make my position crystal clear.

I am making a plea on behalf of innocent civilians. ALL innocent civilians on BOTH sides.
Now that Israeli ground forces have entered Gaza, there is only one guarantee.. ABSOLUTE CARNAGE.

Of course, directly above her comments there is a photo of her standing in front of protest signs with the unifying messages of "End The Siege," "Freedom For Palestine" and "Stop The Holocaust In Gaza." Obviously, Lennox is concerned about both sides. How could I have doubted her for a moment?!

First of all, anybody who uses the word Holocaust against the Jews deserves to be locked in a windowless room with the Eurythmics' hit "These Dreams" blasting from loud speakers. Secondly, anybody who calls himself-- or in this case, herself-- a humanitarian should be wheeled into an operating room for forced Egosuction. Thirdly, anybody who claims to be concerned about the lives of "innocent civilians" is usually only concerned that their side won't win the conflict.

Hammas is a terrorist organization who's only goal in life is to destroy Israel and replace it with a militant Islamic state. The Palestinians elected Hammas to be their leaders. If you choose leaders who want to push your neighbor into the sea then you have to expect the occasional rocket up your ass.

Imagine if Canada openly stated that they wanted to push the good ol' US of A into Lake Ontario. Then they spent three years lobbing rockets into Buffalo. Would you really listen to Annie Lennox if she said the key to our survival is negotiation? No, you would put on a hockey helmet, cross the border and challenge the canucks to a throwdown.

Annie Lennox should give up on politics and stick to doing what she does best. Okay, I was going to say singing, but I couldn't type that word with a straight face.

So Far, Not So Good

We had a wonderful time with some of our comedy buddies yesterday but then I came home, saw pictures of myself from the party, had an anxiety attack and wound up sitting up until 2 AM watching E's True Hollywood Story of High School Musical's Zac Efron which is pathetic since Zac Efron wasn't even born when I was in high school.

Maybe I've been taking too much cold medicine.

I really wanted to wake up today with a sparkling, optimistic attitude combined with a renewed enthusiasm for 2009. Instead, I despise my new haircut, feel like I'm finally showing my age and obsessing about my mini-muffin top.

I hope it's the cold medicine.

Last year was terrible in so many ways. Yet in an effort to let go of all the negativity of 2008, I had to relive some of its worst moments. Add a headful of snot and you have the Insecurity Perfect Storm.

Since I can't change others or keep bad things from happening, I'll start by controlling what I can. Today, I'll get rid of my gray roots, go for a walk/jog and cut out butter. Maybe I'll exfoliate as well. Since working from the inside/out seems to be failing, I'll try from the outside/in.

Oh yeah, and I'll stop taking cold medicine just in case.

Day 7: At Sea 12/26/08

Running on a treadmill when a ship is rocking back and forth is a nearly impossible task. It's so difficult, in fact, that I believe it should be a new Olympic Event. Or at least part of the X Games.



After our workout, we packed up our books, hats and suntan lotion and headed for the pool. Unfortunately, the other 2,499 passengers all had the same idea. To make the scene even more chaotic, a belly-flop contest was underway when we arrived. We needed a Plan B.

Deck 5 just might be the most underused area of the Serenade of the Seas. Perhaps people are afraid of the lifeboats which dangle above. We pulled two chairs up to the rail and sat staring at the water for four hours, leaving only to make a bar run or for a bathroom break. We had the place virtually to ourselves the entire time. It was a lovely way to end the voyage.



The next day we somehow managed to be the last passengers off the ship. My husband was briefly detained at customs because there was no record of him embarking in San Juan. I told the customs official, "He's with me" which made him chuckle. As he said, "That doesn't work here."

It was a relaxing and exciting seven days. I am a complete cruise convert.

Day 6: Barbados 12/25/08

(Bonar Long-- as pictured below-- is now my husband's new porn name.)



Barbados, we were told by a taxi driver, would be closed for Christmas. He was partially right. Certainly, the stores were locked-up, but the beaches and beach bars were open for business. So that's where we found ourselves on this sweltering holiday morning.

Barbados has the most beautiful blue water I have ever seen and the beach is within walking distance of the ship-- although you have to walk down a scary alley filled with broken bottles and used condoms to get there.

As we strolled along the surf we saw horses being led into the water, a man with dreadlocks washing his hair with sand and a local dude who sold aloe plants from a box. "Aloe for sunburn," he'd yell but when he got closer he'd whisper, "Ganja." We passed on both.



When we worked up a thirst (like we needed an excuse) we pulled up a chair at the Red Man Bar where we ordered Banks beer and listened to '60's British Pop Christmas music.



Later that night, after my husband's two shows, we retired to the normally quiet Safari Club bar for karaoke night. At one point, we were practically sliding under the table, laughing hysterically, when a fellow passenger innocently sang the theme song from Titanic.

Day 5: St. Lucia 12/24/08

(Everybody should have a license to sell intoxicating liquor.)



From the moment I stepped into my cabin, I have had either the theme from The Love Boat or Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen" stuck in my larger-than-normal-size head. I supposed it could be worse. I could be humming the song from Gilligan's Island. Ooops, wait, now I am.



We woke up to torrential rains so our exploration of St. Lucia was delayed somewhat. Eventually the skies cleared so we walked to the Castries Central Market. Since it was Christmas Eve, the place was packed with St. Lucians buying bread, meat and, inexplicably, large amounts of parsley. We made our way over to the touristy section to purchase Christmas ornaments and a hat that wouldn't blow off my head.

Even though it was only mid-morning, we popped into a place which sold intoxicating liquor for the local Piton beer, named after the spectacular Piton mountains. These bars were more like open-air storefronts and could only accommodate a handful of people at a time. Luckily you can drink on the sidewalk.

Of course, if it's Christmas Eve and you're stinking of alcohol there's no better place to go than a Catholic Church. After donating to the restoration fund, we took in the beautiful artwork as church members decorated the altar for midnight mass. One of the nuns was gracious enough to pose for pictures when asked by some of our fellow gawkers. I never would have thought to make such a request. She's a nun, after all, not a Disney character.



On the way to the beach the skies opened up again and my little travel umbrella only managed to keep our heads dry. Every other part of us was soaked. But it was worth the hike. The beaches on St. Lucia are stunning. This one also happened to be private. The friendly, but stern, security guard from the Rendevous Adults Only Resort (sounds a little creepy) led us to the only patch that was open to the public then gave us directions to a cheap bar.

As we sipped our Pitons, I was insanely jealous of the other patrons who, unlike us, had helf off eating lunch and were now consuming heaping plates of Creole food. If we ever go back to St. Lucia, this little beach shack will be my first stop.



At night, we put on our formal wear and dined in Reflections, ship's main restaurant, for the first time all week. The onboard photographer took a picture of us in our finery but, when my husband returned to the display to possible buy the photo, it was gone. Did somebody want a picture of the comedian as a souvenir? Was it bought by mistake? Either way, it's kind of weird.

Happy (Healthy?) New Year

For the second year in a row, I'm sick on New Year's Day. Last year I had the flu. This year I have a head-pounding, eye-leaking, snot-producing cold.

I'll put up the rest of my cruise updates tomorrow. Right now, I'm heading back to the couch.