American Idol, your bloom is fading quickly…

April 28, 2006

(*chants*) Ste-vie! Ste-vie! Ste-vie! (Remember Stevie, guys? Do ya?) Ste-vie! Ste-vie! Ste-vie!…

Wow. That David Foster fellow is mighty full of himself, isn’t he? A regular mutha. No, seriously, the dude’s an ass. Ooooh, I hope he smacks down Pickler! Because awesome?Oh, ho ho, listen to Kat (I love that she’s Kat now, instead of Katharine. Solidarity, sistah!) all impromptu opera-ing it up with Andrea Bocelli. Andrea! Bocelli! Wow, she’s GOOD. And he’s got a super secret crush on her, too… and dude’s BLIND.

Kat (If I Don’t Have You): First off… BOOOOOOOOBS. Yeah, as if I wouldn’t mention . Good golly, Miss Molly! Ahem. Secondly, I think it is quite possible the judges have not only been passing around the hookah– smoking God knows what but it ain’t flavored tobacco, you know what I’m sayin’?– but are also quite possibly insane because WHAT in the WORLD are they blathering on about?! That was simply gorgeous, Kat, and I’m not just saying that because of your quite excellent sartorial choices and the fact that you popped a button on your dress during your performance and accidentally flashed your cootch at several million people without breaking your stride. And considering the pompous jackass composer gave you his seal of approval, I’m wondering where Randy “Yo, yo, yo DAWG!” Jackson, Paula “Straight Up” Abdul, and Simon “I like to touch myself” Cowell get off saying any different. Way to take it with grace and style, Kat. Oh, and third of all, PRETTY. Love the hair. Wear yellow always. Now put those bad boys away before you hurt somebody.Elliott (A Song for You): Huh. I didn’t know Paula was a sad drunk. Lay off the sauce, Paula. Booze is no balm for the lonely… Oh, sorry, focusing. Elliott, you didn’t move me to tears or anything (*cough* Paula *cough*), but that was very prettily done. Good on you, man! If you just had some stage presence, I could totally dig you. But don’t worry, Randy and Paula luuuuuv you so, SO much. And you are looking… better tonight, so there’s that, right? Like the goatee! That being said, Ryan wants his suit and metrosexual persona back.

See? See?! It’s not just me:
David Foster: (referring to Kellie) What color is her hair?
Andrea: (laughs) Blonde…


Kellie (Unchained Melody): Wow. There are no words in the English language. Just… WOW. And not in the good way. So, SO not in the good way. I have this strange, uncomfortable feeling in my chest… Oh, good lord, I think I almost feel sorry for you, Kellie. For reals! Hold on a sec… Yep, I have plumbed the depths of my bitter, cynical soul, and I do in fact actually feel sorry for the Pickler. I do. It’s a strange, uncomfortable feeling, I tell you! I don’t like it at ALL. Aaaaw… sweetie! You know how bad that was, doncha? And the dead, glassy eyes after that first horrendous note? Killer. Don’t let the door smack you in the– well, you know the rest.

Paris (The Way We Were): Okay, you have never actually seen The Way We Were, have you, girlfriend? Because if you had you would know how completely NOT age-appropriate that song was for you. Just sayin’. Still, you sang it very well, as usual– no, seriously, well-done– but Streisand? Babs just does it so beautifully, you see… And, hey! Why didn’t the judges slam you for a picking a song WAAAAAY too big for you? Huh. Teacher’s PET.

Taylor (Just Once): I love the voice. I don’t know why (Soul Patrol! Woo!). I just really, really do. And I thought you did well, truly I did. But this genre? Not your forte. Stay away from it. Far, far– oh my goodness, are you wearing VELVET?! Dude, are you insane? It’s mid-APRIL, yo?

Uh-oh. How genuinely irritated did Simon look when Paula interrupted his talking time? Somebody’s in troooooouuuuuuuubbbbble…

Hannah Mack: Uuuuuuh!
Cat: What? Do you hurt?
Hannah: Uuuh! Hurtlikeheck…

Chris (Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman): Oooh! Ooooh! I totally sprawl on my back when I practice singing, and I am not even lying. But, Chris, honey? Singing with your diaphragm is not in actuality a “new technique.” Just sayin’. Well. Pimp machine in full force, I see. Not one, but two guitarists. How special. Whatev. Oh, my gosh! Yes! FINE! I’ve really loved a woman, okay?! GOSH! I don’t understand why you are shouting at me, dude. Cut it out. Scariness unto you.

Overall, meh. I am losing interest here, I must admit. I know, right?! Sacrilege. But seriously, who would have thought that frakking Queen Night would overshadow all the others? Queen Night! Well it surprised the hell out of me, and that’s a fact.

Kellie is totally going home, and I would have said that even if I didn’t already know she got voted off. For reals. I would have!

(*off to FF through results show*)

“Listen to Jesus, Jimmy… trust the man with the stigmata!”

April 28, 2006

So, when one has some downtime between medicating children, one should relax, right? I mean, it’s only fair that when the children are in a drug-induced stupor, the momma gets to indulge in some much needed R & R, right? You know, eat, doze in front of the TV, go for a jog. Duh. So my choice to watch the movie musical Reefer Madness was probably not the most relaxing option– obviously a nice nap would have been the better, wiser choice at this point– but I’ve been meaning to see it forever, and TGIM rented it for me and e’rything, so what can you do? And guys? I laughed my butt off. Laughed it right off! Not literally, of course… although that would be coolness. I mean it. And now I can’t get “Listen to Jesus, Jimmy!” out of my head, which HA!

And I only have myself to blame.

But goodness, Kristen Bell is the cutest, most over the top Mary Sunshine I have ever seen and I’m not just saying that because she also plays my kickass teen heroine Veronica Mars on my most favoritest TV show evah. No, the story is about two clean-cut, innocent teens (Mary Lane and Jimmy Harper) who fall under the menacing influence of Public Enemy Number One– Mary Jane, marijuana, reefer, the “stuff”– and quickly find themselves in a twisted, downward spiral into a world of sex, madness, and evil jazz music. It is so hilariously tongue-in-cheek, y’all– and good golly is it ever over-the-top gruesome and nutty– that I didn’t get any rest at ALL. When Jesus (played by the awesome Robert Torti, who was also Pharoah in Donny Osmond’s version of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) comes down from heaven and, in a musical revue hosted by none other than Joan of Arc, tries to convince Jimmy to quit toking up, I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard. Not very restful, I tell you what, GOSH. They should put a warning on the cover or something.

So basically, I didn’t get a nap, I’m probably going to burn in hell, I can’t stop singing “Loved by Mary Lane!”, and I am suddenly super hungry. Honestly. What’s that all about?

Sure, God… Why send measly rain when it can freaking POUR?! Eh?!

April 27, 2006

Okay, so I haven’t even had a chance to watch AI yet, which is just a darn shame. (But I know Kellie’s gone so woo-HOO! Ahem.) Because not only is Hannah Mack decidely averse to putting any fluids into her body, due to the pain in swallowing and the fact that the putrid smell in her throat makes her want to gag (and seriously, putrid is putting it mildly, y’all, I am SOOOOO not kidding, good LORD…) which will most assuredly lead to dehydration and hospitalization, but my little Alli, obviously jealous of all the ice cream and popsicles Hannah is not eating, gets herself sent home from school with a 102 degree fever. Sent home! With a fever! I know, right?! Man, oh MAN! Kids these days… And they wake up at all hours of the night, no rhyme or reason, just WHENEVER, and they cry and complain and vomit and just have absolutely no respect for their parents’ sleep patterns whatsoever.

That being said, aaaaaaaaaaaw…

peace at last

I’m wicked tired, yo? I’m going to bed.

Oh, how I love thee, Work At Home day(s)!

April 25, 2006

WAHing is hard, yo? Not the actual work, mind you, but the whole actually getting to work thing. Granted, I have a whiny, achy little girl demanding much of my attention, but beyond that you would think it would be easy to just sit down and pound out some regulations, right?! Quarantine a few states infested with emerald ash borer! Extend the interval for conducting cervid reaccreditation tests! Regulate sheep semen, perhaps! You know, riveting stuff. Instead, my days (I have a week of WAH, due to Mack’s surgery) look much like this:

1. Turn on computer.
2. Check my email.
3. Read about American Idol and Veronica Mars on Television Without Pity, then check out Kristin’s chat transcripts on E!Online. (Hey, keeping abreast of current events is key.)
4. Get out files and workplans and push them around on the table a little bit. Stare at them thoughtfully.
5. Notice that the kitchen windows are spotty. Make note to self: clean windows.
6. Eat a donut.
7. Amend note to self: ask TGIM to clean windows.
8. Sit and stare at my belly, which is obviously bigger as I just ate a donut.
9. Decide to jog my three-mile route while Mack is sleeping. (A strong body and mind are key.)
10. Shower… duh.
11. Um…
12. Send several emails to boss, so she knows how busy WAHing I am.
13. Make Very Important revisions to my Very Important shelled garden peas docket for a minimum of 10 minutes, but no longer than thirty minutes. (Pace is key, guys. Honestly.)
14. Notice that Scooby Doo is on… YES! I just love those rascally, meddling kids.
15. Update my Weekly Activity Report. (Obviously, inventiveness? Totally key.)

Oh, I kid. Heh-heh! Such a kidder! Of course this post is completely fictitious. It bears absolutely no resemblance to my actual WAH habits whatsoever. No, really. It is so utterly untrue. False, false, false. Embellished for Artistic Purposes only. Okay, except for the jogging part. Oh, and the part about Scooby Doo. Really. I am BUSY, y’all. Busy and important. Yep.

I’m so ashamed…

April 25, 2006

My descent into scary fangirlyism has begun. No, seriously. This is even worse than Constantine touching my boobs, y’all. Honestly.

See this shirt?

I know, right?! Cute design! Loverly! Stylin’! With the orchids and the Chinese characters and whatnot! “So what’s the deal?” you ask? “Why the shame?” Here’s the thing… I saw it and literally stopped in my tracks, all, “OMG! Veronica Mars has that shirt! OMG! OMG! Veronica Mars has that shirt! VERONICA! MARS!” I’m pretty sure I scared the staff, and quite possibly a large majority of the customers. Because of the screaming? And the jumping up and down and stuff? And then?… I freaking bought the darn thing ON THE SPOT. I didn’t even try it on. That’s right. I just bought it.

Behold my Shame:

Yep. Me = scary fangirl. Then again, it is a wicked cute tee…

Okay, whatever. I am SO over it.

Hey, let’s just thank God they don’t make “I [heart] Logan Echolls” t-shirts, or sell “Veronica Mars is Smarter Than Me” tank tops. Gosh. Then I’d be doomed.

You’re judging me, aren’t you?

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