Last night I decided to watch American Idol for the first time this season. I’ve watched my fair share of Idol but didn’t get into it this year because I figured J Lo would be too annoying to handle. I mean come on, what’s her deal? She had like 3 hit songs, a handful of shitty movies, and I swear on my autographed picture of David Copperfield that she’s only famous because of that time she came to the Grammys with Diddy wearing that Versace dress that showed her bellybutton. Before that dress all she was was just an anonymous In Living Color fly girl.. but post-dress she morphed into one half of the rom-com-ruining Bennifer, next step, superstardom! Anyway, so no. I haven’t been watching Idol this season.
Last night, however, I thought I should check in and see what’s going on. I turned on the TV hoping to see some charming little Carrie Underwood-esque nobody belt out some heartfelt ballad but instead I get a giant blonde Beyonce on a horse with back-up dancers doing moves that looked something your chiropractor would tell you not to do — I think they should call that it the “sexy seizure”. She just kept yelling “Who run the world? Girls! Who run the world? Girls!… over and over and over again (someone has apparently given up on writing lyrics entirely).
Listen B, we’ll never run anything with grammar like that. Can we try “Who runs the world?” or “Who is running the world?” or maybe “The world is run by whom?” Now please get off my screen so I can get back to watching that adorable southern crooner who makes the weird sexy faces.
Paula Abdul might be back in show business, folks! Simon Cowell was interviewed about his new show The X Factor (kind of like Idol but… well… yeah, kind of like Idol) and he said he’s trying to get Paula signed on as one of the judges. I know exactly what this is… this is a classic case of “forgetting how crazy an ex was”. I see my guy friends go through this all the time. They’ll date a chick who will be at a dinner party and tell non-stop crazy drunken rambling stories about how she almost lost a bet in college where she’d have to make out with a dog and everyone at the dinner table is like, ummmmm, WTF is up with this chick… then my buddy breaks up with her because she’s legitimately looney tunes, and 6 months later she pops back up in his life and they’re checking in together at the Hollywood Bowl and posting Facebook albums titled “Disneyland w/ my babe!” This should be a warning to all men, including Simon Cowell: just because you forget how crazy a chick is doesn’t mean she got less crazy, it just means you have a selective memory (and oh by the way, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend made out with a Golden Retriever.)
Rihanna is on the cover of Rolling Stone this month and based on the quotes from the interview this chick is sluttier than a former Disney starlet trying to shed her good girl image… who also has daddy issues… and a creepy feely uncle:
“Being submissive in the bedroom is really fun.”
“I like to be spanked.”
“Being tied up is fun. I like to keep it spontaneous.”
“Sometimes whips and chains can be overly planned… I’d rather have him use his hands.”
Chris Brown is like “you gotta be fucking kidding me.” As we speak, Chris’s lawyer is probably using this to come up with an appeal to the assault charges against him from 2009. I’m no lawyer but here’s what I’m picturing: “My client merely treated your client as she asked, by keeping it ‘spontaneous’ and ‘using his hands’ (which happened to be in the shape of fists at the time). He just ‘spanked’ (her face), what’s the big woop?” PS. I’d make a shitty lawyer.
Katy Perry’s mom is writing a book about what it’s like being Katy Perry’s mom, plus a lot of religious stuff because she’s an Evangelical Preacher and that’s kind of their thing. Now I’m a huge fan of Katy Perry, mostly because of her music (“California Gurls” has been stuck in my head for 9 straight months), but I also admire the way she just throws those tits of hers on a platter and prances around in ridiculous outfits that look like they were made by pillaging a dumpster behind Toys R Us. Her boobs really are a national treasure. If I had boobs like that I’d be doing the exact same thing. But I don’t. Instead I wear pads and water bras and things filled with gel; wire and straps are usually involved and sometimes I throw in a pair of chicken cutlets for good measure… my chest is more like an arts and crafts project than anything that resembles cleavage. Because of this, at various points in my life, I’ve left men wildly disappointed when I’ve pulled out the paper mache and rather than seeing some big ol’ fun bags they can bat around, they are faced with my mildly entertaining satchels.
In summary, if Katy Perry’s mom wants a best seller, it should just be about boobs. About Katy Perry’s boobs. About her own boobs. About passing on this incredible boob gene to her daughter. New York Times Best Seller for sure!!!
Yesterday at the Superbowl, Christina Aguilera messed up the words to the National Anthem . Sooooooo, that’s gotta suck. I think now is the perfect time for her to play the Latina card again like she did back in 2000 when they started the Latin Grammy Awards and she realized that if she just rolled the R in her last name she could drop a Spanish album and take home a trophy. How’s she supposed to know the words to the National Anthem when she’s Mexican — or whatever — and English is her second language?! (just go with me on this one, Xtina)
The good news for Christina is that most people have already forgotten about her little goof because the Black Eyed Peas’ half-time show was a whole lot worse. If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that everything is relative. Like when I worked at Dairy Queen in high school I used to give out free ice-cream cakes to all my friends, but was a model employee compared to this chick Kate who stole rolls of quarters (“each roll is 10 bucks!!!”) and smoked Marlboro Reds in the walk-in freezer (“it’s like the ice cream absorbs the smoke or something!!”). It’s alllllll relative.
Justin Bieber was on David Letterman on Monday to promote his upcoming film Justin Bieber: Never Say Never (wasn’t that a Bond movie?) and he briefly tried to explain to Dave what tweeting is. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, a black person the breaststroke, or anyone over 50 what a DM is. I tried to explain Twitter to my mom last time I was home and it was a total role reversal of what I’m sure it was like teaching me anything when I was a kid…
ME: So one cool thing is that people can mention you in their tweets.
ME: Because that way you can see that they mentioned you.
ME: Because you can click on this “@Mentions” tab right here and every tweet that has your name in it shows up.
ME: Because that’s how Twitter works.
ME: BECAUSE I SAID SO!
By the time we got to the “but why are there all these pound signs everywhere?” part of the conversation, I gave up. Good news is, however, she’s finally got Facebook mastered! No more personal emails posted on my wall. Go mom!
“Thank you Lord for blessing me with a Man that has the perfect Tush. Laying my hands upon it with peace:)”
I don’t know where Jessica learned to pray, but it definitely wasn’t from my first grade teacher at Our Lady’s Christian School, Sister Anne Louis. That lady really knew her shit. She had 30 seven-year-olds reciting The Our Father like it was a Barney’s Sing-Along. First Communion… Confirmation… Twelve years of “Religion” class… not bragging or anything, but I think I’m kind of an expert on things you’re supposed to pray for… and thanking God for a perfect tush is not on the list.
ps. “Tush”?? Really? Just because you wear mom jeans, doesn’t mean you have to use mom words.
Word has leaked that Christina Aguilera got into it with Julianne Hough at a pre-Golden Globes party last weekend. Someone (who hates fun and excitement) broke the fight up before it got out of hand, but if they go at it again here’s my prediction:
Fighting out of the red corner, this girl is a cute little dancer who put out a cute little country album and is now apparently trying to act in some cute little movies. Weighing in at 85 pounds, fighting out of some miscellaneous southern state: Julianne HOUGH!!!!!!
Fighting out of the blue corner, this woman one of the best selling music artists of all time, a vocal powerhouse and a certified Grammy Award winning diva. Weighing in at around a buck 75 (it’s baby* weight!), fighting out of a ghetto near Pittsburgh: Christina AGUILERA!!!!!!
Ummmm, Julianne I hope those dancing legs can run! She weighs twice as much as you PLUS she’s Mexican (or something like that). Run, girl! She will CUT you.
18-year-old Disney actress (who I can only distinguish from Demi Lovato because Demi went to rehab and this chick hasn’t… yet) Selena Gomez is getting death threats because of her relationship with 16-year-old pop singing sensation Justin Bieber. A few recent Twitter posts from some less-than-thrilled “Beliebers” say things like:
“I’ll kill you I swear on GOD!!!!”
“If you are the Girlfriend of Justin I will Kill you I HATE YOU :@ !!!”
Selena’s camp is amping up her security detail and taking extra precautions in light of the recent threats.
Oh come on… what’s the big whoop? She’ll be fine. She’s got JUSTIN BIEBER to protect her.
It’s being reported (as if this is real news or something) that Mariah Carey’s husband Nick Cannon won’t let her wear heels anymore, now that she’s pregnant with twins. Men, do you not realize that we gals aren’t wearing heels for our health or because they’re comfy (surprise surprise — they’re not). We wear them because every woman is secretly obsessed with Cameron Diaz’s legs in Charlie’s Angels and the only way mere mortals can attain anything even close to those sticks is by hoisting our heels up a few inches, thereby creating an optical illusion that we are tall and long and lean. Fooled ya! It’s a tried and try method which, by the way, is a shitload easier than eating right or doing time on the elliptical.
With that in mind, it seems like now (when she’s at her fattest/most pregnant) is a really crappy time for Mariah to be forced to give up her heels. Sure she doesn’t want to go toppling over with babies on board, but what good is she to any of us if she quits her diva ways and turns into a fat ass in flats?
Each year around this time Mariah pops up on morning shows, late-night show, middle-of-the-day shows — oh and if there’s a parade, forget about it, she’s there — singing that one epic song I wait for all year and then, by December 20th or so I’ve heard it so much that just the first few chords make me want to strangle myself with a strand of Christmas lights: “All I Want for Christmas Is You”. Since I can’t bear to see a short and squat Mariah, all I want for Christmas is for her to ignore that impish little boy she calls a husband and let her true diva reign free this Christmas season. Bring on the stilettos!
ps. Here’s a version of Mariah’s song I did with a couple comedian pals of mine a few years ago…
pps. I posted this from 41D on a Delta flight thanks to handy free wi-fi. That’s the back of my boarding pass up there.