Posts Tagged ‘Paula Abdul’

Dear Paula Abdul…

Tuesday, April 26th, 2011

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.)

Dear Nicole Scherzinger…

Friday, December 17th, 2010

Pussycat Doll front-woman/lead singer/girl-who-steals-the-mic-from-the-other-girls-all-the-time Nicole Scherzwhattheeffishernameger has officially filled the gaping hole left in my life when American Idol dropped Paula Abdul.  As a “judge” on The Sing-Off, she offers consistently nonsensical commentary comprised mostly of crazy analogies that would probably only make sense to the homeless guy outside my building who speaks in made-up languages and thinks his collection of feathers are legitimate pets.

Like Paula, she seems like she’s just washed down a potpourri of anti-depressants and muscle relaxants with half a bottle of scotch.  Another similarity: I have no idea what race she is — I think she’s the “misc.” they put as the last option on forms at the DMV — but I do know that I’m wildly jealous of the body skin of such “misc.” folks and wish I had a little “misc.” in my pasty white Irish blood.  Nicole chimes in after each performance with something stupid.  Like really stupid.  Like so stupid you seriously can’t believe you’re listening to it.  Like this last night:

“I felt like I was in a music video and it was slow motion, you follow me? And I was like in my favorite candy shop and I was like pickin’ all my favorite candy and I was in heaven.  You follow?”

Are we sure she knows she’s on live television and not in her bed, just waking up, on the phone with her best girl friend describing the dream she just had? Thank God for Nick Lachey (never thought I’d say that), who cut her off before she went into the part about how “all of a sudden I was naked and my whole 6th grade class was there and we were at the candy shop and then out of no where, all of a sudden I’m not at the candy shop anymore, I’m in a Subway, the sandwich store not the mode of public transportation, and Tom Selleck shows up, but get this, he didn’t have a mustache, you follow me?  It was sooooo crazy.”