And Now, A Word From Our Fun, Sexy Sponsors

We here at What A Fun, Sexy Time For You would like to take a moment to thank the sponsors of Tuesday night's Idol Offering: "The First Group of Twelve Butchers Songs That Were Recorded ... Sometime".

The scintillating cavalcade of stank was made possible by grants from the following:

• Hoover
• Eureka
• Oreck
• Jenna Jameson
• Sinusitis
  
• Mosquitoes
• Bill O'Reilly
  
• Monica Lewinsky
• Stale Coffee
• Black Holes
• ATM fees
• Rush Limbaugh
• Bullies
• PMS
• Ringworm (Psoriasis! Tetter!)
  
• SPAM
• Migraine Headaches

That show could only have been brought to us by a group of sponsors whose collective SUCK runs a distant second to the great and powerful SUCK brought to us by this group of ne'er-sing-wells and their oh-so-creative interpretations of Songs That Have Ever Been On The Billboard Charts (way to narrow it down, there, Idol producers).

With only a couple of exceptions -- and, yes, I mean you, Danny Gokey and your didn't-blow-me-away-but-it-was-still-OK-for-me-for-you rendition of Hero, and you, Alexis Grace, even though your voice is thin and your hair and alabaster skin and overall perk will likely be working my last nerve within two weeks -- every single performance was just oozing, nay DRIPPING, with mediocrity.

So, I ask you. No, I implore you, Idol Contestants. For the love of all that is right and holy: GET. IT. TOGETHER.

It's Fun, It's Sexy ... It's Phoenix!

So, it's like, minus eleventy degrees here on the East Coast and watching last night's Season 8 Premiere of American Idol and its crop of auditioners from hot, steamy Phoenix has left me more than a little embittered.

But this isn't about me, now, is it?

This is about the giant, sucking musical void that apparently exists in the state of south-central Arizona. We'll call it the Grand Abyss. Let's examine what went down, shall we?

First and foremost, I've gotta say that I have something of a girl-crush on new, and 4th, judge Kara (pronounced CARE-a, not CAR-a) DioGuardi, simply because (A) she clearly has some chops and (B) she had the brass tacks to call one of the female contestants a word that generally doesn't go over well with women (see #8 below). She's gonna bring a whole new brand of crazy to the judges table. Fine family fun.

Other than that, I had a few observations:

(1) The Coca-Cola Company would like to remind you to recycle.
(2) Emily Hughes was one of two bright spots among the smallish group of auditioners who have made it through to the Hollywood round, but will likely go no further. She sang the CRAP out of Barracuda (which is no small feat). Let's hope her life plan of covering herself with as many tattoos and piercings as possible, in order to keep herself away from a desk job, works out for her.
(3) Having a seismically-low deep bass voice does NOT make you Barry White. Too bad for Elijah Scarlett.
(4) Sometimes, being likeable is enough. Just ask Michael Sarver, manly-man oil rig worker and overall nice guy.
(5) Lea Marie Golde, the nasally DioGuardi stalker, reminded me a heckuva lot of Lara Flynn Boyle's "psycho hosebeast" character from Wayne's World. She had the cute, Ivory Girl face, but her eyes said "helter skelter!"
(6) As far as Simon Cowell is concerned, a healthy knowledge of world geography has direct bearing on your ability to make it as a pop star. Lucky for Alex Wagner-Trugman (aka Mold Boy), he was a brainiac (c'mon ... he pulled Abkhazia!) and, since he had gotten himself, quite literally (figuratively, too, I'm guessing), out of the closet, earned himself a ticket to "The Show".
(7) There were TWO bright spots to be found in the endless parade of suck. The first was tattoo girl. The second was Scott McIntyre, or the person who's gonna end up being known as "the blind guy". His voice was great, and if he gets a chance to play his piano during the competition, it's gonna be game, set and match.
(8) I'm not going to mention her by name, because that would validate her existence, but Bikini Girl needs to be punched in the hoo-hah. Seriously.

So, that's it for me for Phoenix. Tonight, we're on to Kansas City: home of ribs, great chili and David Cook. With luck, SOMEONE will show some promise. Or at least share a good recipe for BBQ.

American Idol = Fun + Sexy x Crazy Ass Crazy

Hi, Friends!

As some of you may know, I've written about the yearly televised Godzilla American Idol for a few years now over at PhillyBurbs.com. As it seems that neither the current cloud of these economic times nor Rod Blagojevich's giant taint have yet to touch the niche blogging industry, I will be blogging over there once again. After a few years of Sanjayas and crazy Paulas and Randy's sparkle cowboy shirts, I'm feeling TIRED. So, my question for you is -- What do you want out of your Idol blog reading experience?

I'm looking for new ideas and challenges. Basically, I want you to do the hard part of my job for me. What kinds of posts do you want to see? What do you definitely not want to see? If you had been a reader of my posts previously, what worked and what didn't? I write to serve you.

Love.

Paula - No More Idol?

Per the television's greatest source for cat fights and talk of flatulence, The View, it seems like season 8 might be it for Paula Abdul.

It's BAAACK!

Ahhh ... you can smell it in the air, can't you? The scent of low-to-moderate grade cheese? That's because American Idol returns to your homes and hearts in precisely one month's time! And you thought you had just forgotten to take out the garbage last night.

Come January 13, we'll be treated to re-re-re-re-re-hashings of Simon Cowell's venomous barbs, the blatherings of one Randawg Jackson and, of course, the oft-senseless natterings of Miss Paula Abdul. I do so look forward to hearing her wax philosophical about how the contestants have really made their songs their own, allowed their spirits to soar on the wings of berainbowed fairies, and how they are all not just unique, but also different.

In that spirit, I'd like to add my two cents about the theme nights I'd like to see during this season:

1. 80s Week

2. Satanic Metal Week

3. Irish Drinking Songs Week

4. The Complete Works of Dr. Seuss Put to Music Week

5. Songs That Don't Suck Week

6. College Fight Songs Including the Word "Vim" Week

7. Gregorian Chant Week

8. Motown Week

9. Songs That Suggest Extreme Confidence In Mediocre Talent, and Not Merely Confidence But Almost Even A Suggestion That The Singer Feels That They Deserve Enormous Accolades As a God-Given Right Without Particular Effort Or Struggle And Certainly Without Actually Creating Something Themselves Week

10. Disco Week!