Femme Fatal

So I know I've mentioned this before, but I never wear girly shoes. Now, in many ways, I am a very girly person. I have long hair and I like dresses and "Gilmore Girls" and all that jazz. But I am missing, like, a gene. The one that gets girly girls really excited to go buy fake Luis Vuitton bags.

Or any bags, for that matter. I have a lot of crap that I need with me at all times, you know? This includes: my hairbrush, 27 lipglosses, and all of my makeup so that I can get ready in the car as I go to work. So in an ironic twist, I can't be pocketbook (or purse) girly, because I need all my makeup. I dont have the time or the energy for those tiny little clutchy things that hold like, one lipstick and my wallet, because first of all, what wallet? Second of all, don't even talk to me about those compact brushes. They don't work. And third, I lose every single smallish bag I try to use. So that's out.

But yeah, I'm also really not into shoes. Part of it is that I dont like the "cool" style that's been around awhile -- those pointy things that make me think not of sexiness, but of
the Wicked Witch of the East. So I'm not very motivated to spend my money buying them, or my time and energy trying to walk in them. Because that's the other part of it -- I really like being comfortable, and resent the notion that in order to be a pretty girl, I have to be in pain or unable to run around.

My missing gene and indignance with society are compounded by the absence of my credit cards, which I got rid of. It used to be that if I wanted to buy clothes, I'd just use my magical cards to go shopping. Hence the not having them anymore. Also, I'm lazy about errands. So somewhere along the line, I got into the habit of not putting much effort into my wardrobe.

But yesterday I decided I was going step out of my comfort zone and be a girly girl for a change of pace. I went shopping and managed to find some good sales, and came home with clothes and a plan. I lay out -- get this -- a skirt (with lace!), black hose (not tights!), a (dressy!) shirt, my (matching!) underwear, and...SHOES! Honest to goodness, bona fide, girly shoes. My mom got them for me. And while they are not pointy, they are definitely girly. They even have pink stitching in them that matches the pink in my skirt!

This morning, everything seemed to be going well. I even did most of my makeup in the house instead of the car, and blew out my hair a little bit. And by the time I arrived at work, all of my jewelry was on. Of course, I was 12 minutes late, but that is neither here nor there.

Anyway, I walked into work, like a full-on girl who maybe if you didn't look closely would even seem like she got her nails done on a regular basis, and I think it was then that I upset the natural balance of the earth. Like in "The Little Mermaid," when Ursula starts breaking out of that brunette Ariel guise, and while she is not big scary octopus Ursula, she is certainly no fair maiden.

Because first, my shoes got big on me all of a sudden! So I am clumping around like a six year old playing dress-up, and that is not sexy.

Then Babz blew ashes on me by accident.

Then mysterious crumbs and random markings appeared on my outfit out of nowhere.

Then I got a hole in my stockings.

Then I got a run.

A battle was waged, you know with valor and whathaveyou, to defend my girlyhood against these relentless attacks. Armed with a lint roller, hairspray, and toilet paper for the toes of my shoes, I put up a good fight. But to no avail. I'm tired now. Too tired to fight anymore.

Maybe its 'cause I don't have a girly purse. Maybe that is the magical element that keeps the forces of dirtbaggery away. I don't know. I will lay out my clothes again tonight. But this time, its going to be a sweatshirt and jeans.

And sneakers. Definitely sneakers.

©2005

Things That Have Already Traumatized Me Today

1. Being woken up by my alarm. For the past few weeks, I have awoken to Shannon, calling me to do yoga. However, last night she stayed up until 2:30 a.m., and therefore did not have a voice this morning. So instead of my current (awesome) 90210 cell phone ring followed by Shannon's lovely voice, my stupid alarm was the first thing I heard.

2. Snopes. There is apparently a girl in Egypt who was born with a frigging extra head. And, sure enough! The scariest picture I've seen in awhile. Before my coffee, to boot!

3. Snopes AGAIN, because, I mean, did you KNOW about this? WTF? I dont have a problem with piercing in general; I often really like it on the right people. But this is just disgusting.

4. This weather. I am a pretty accepting person when it comes to the weather, really and truly. Well, on the cold side of the spectrum. I hate the humid summer crap. But today, it is REALLY COLD out of nowhere! Like, bone chillingly so! Im just not in the mood, and it is irritating my skin.

5. The absence of Coffee Cart Man. All I wanted to do was enjoy my 10 a.m. ritual -- go outside with Babz, get my coffee, and smoke a cigarette. But instead, my world was thrown into disarray. There was a man with a cart, but the cart was in a weird spot, and the man was not Coffee Cart Man. I had to explain how I wanted my coffee, and it made me sad, thinking of the things we take for granted, like a guy who gives you your coffee already prepared how you want it.

6. The 5 minutes in which I thought I'd broken the company printer. I never use it, but certainly thought I was capable of making a few copies without turning it into an Event. But it got stuck, and I pressed every button on the machine before seeking help from my friend Frank, who came over and saved the world.

7. The realization that I promised my brother's girlfriend Amy that I'd go to a Butt 'n Gutt class with her on Thursday. Way too exhausting to think about on a morning that I couldnt even deal with Priscilla.

8. Mad plans. Besides the Butt 'n Gutt class, there is the obvious bar/karaoke extravaganza on Friday, plus Carly texting me about Stingers on Wednesday, Shannon's family party on Saturday, and Babz's invitation to go to a Skid Row concert on Sunday. All awesome things, to be sure, but I'm definitely going to have to do the mental equivalent of searching for loose change, since I am energetically impoverished.

9. Wondering why it is "impoverished," when the word is "poverty," so wouldn't it just be "poverished?" Im sure there is a logical explanation for all of this, but right now it is blowing my mind.

10. The realization that filling out an application at one video store isn't the same thing as actually getting a job, and I still have to go do that.

11. Shannon's confession about killing a bird with her car. She was admiring its beauty as it flew into her windshield and crashed, and when she looked behind her, there was, in her words, a snow globe effect with feathers flying everywhere! She said it was beautiful and horrifying at the same time, but I think it mostly just sounds horrifying.

©2005

And ANOTHER Thing...

One of my New Year's resolutions was to become a better communicator. This is turning out to be a good thing, but a lot more challenging than one might think. Why is this? Is it because people dont usually take the time to work on their communication skills? Or am I just especially bad at it? Oh well, it's a work in progress.

It kind of feels like I'm getting all my bones broken in order to grow back right. Like somewhere along the line, I got formed wrong. Consequently, I make a lot of mistakes, I guess due to all the...broken bones. All right, I'm gonna stop with the bone analogy. But seriously.

For example, the when to stop conundrum. On one side, you have the person who really really wants to solve this RIGHT NOW, and not end things until some kind of agreement is reached. This person is usually me. Then on the other side, you have the person speaking the words I hate to hear: "Let's stop talking about this." "The conversation is over." "I'm not mad, but if you keep asking me, I'll get mad." "You're driving me crazy." "It's four o'clock in the morning; I have to go to sleep."

Okay, I've actually gotten better about the whole sleep deprivation tactic, in that I don't do it anymore 'cause it got me dumped twice, but it's still hard for me to abruptly stop talking about something when nothing's been settled. The need to let things go sometimes is clear, especially in hindsight, and I dont want to be Dawson or Meadow, because I get how maddening it is to fight with someone who just won't stop. But when I'm the one being told to drop it, I feel very helpless.

So how do you go about learning the balance? How do you know if you're being overly controlling by wanting to hash things out, or if the other person is being controlling by ending the discussion? Trial and error, I guess. Maybe taking turns. It's a very tricky business, this mature communicating. But I will figure it out.

NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES.

©2005

The O.C.

Things I Don't
Ever Want To See Again
On "The O.C."

1. Bands playing at The Bait Shop. To my knowledge, the only show that's ever pulled off the live music thing is "Buffy," and I think that had a lot to do with the spaciousness of the Bronze. Oh, and the fact that it was there from episode one, and therefore felt organic and not, you know, desperate and lazy. "O.C." people, we know you have cool taste in music. Show a little restraint.

2. Those awful things you keep putting on Marissa's legs. Are they shorts? Are they pants? Are they...WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY?! Never mind. They're ugly, is what matters. No more, please.

3. A crystal egg floating in slow motion. Especially not twice in one episode. That was mad stupid.

4. Trips. Okay, you know how a couple of weeks ago, Sandy asked Ryan if he'd ever seen Mount Rushmore? I SURE DO HOPE that wasn't an indication that you're going to go all "Facts of Life in Paris" on us, "O.C." Because I really, really, really hate vacation episodes. Seriously, they always suck. Either there's no laugh track and it's strange, or there is a laugh track and its bizarre, because, is there a studio audience on the cruise ship of Jason Seaver's mother's wedding, or what? Well, I guess "The O.C." doesn't have a laugh track to begin with, but still. Vacation episodes are BORING. You have to spend time giving props to wherever you're at, and I just don't need to see half an ep of y'all going on and on about the beauty of South Dakota. And I certainly don't need some wacky subplot where Seth gets like, lost in George Washington's eye or something. So, please. Let this be a time that you flat out drop a plot point. I know you can do that.

5. Annoying Summer. I don't know what is up with her be such a moody bitch the past few episodes. Is it to make Marissa seem more likable? Seth? Because it's not working. It's just stressful to me, wondering why my favorite character can't just be cool. You dragged out the Zach/Summer/Seth triangle wayyyy longer than necessary. It's over. Stop trying to like, reverse it, or whatever you're doing with the sudden graphic novel drama. And while Im on the subject...

6. ...Any and all younger-people business meetings must stop right this second. I put up with the storyline of Caleb's developing on environmentally important land. I sat patiently through Newport Living meetings with the Rocketeer guy. Basically, as long as this show's been on, there have been tedious business subplots. But I deal! Because I really love the adult characters on this show, and they are all portrayed by fantastic actors. And every now and then, something slightly interesting comes out of those situations. Mostly, though, I am just glad that the adult characters are being fleshed out. They spend their days in the office, so carry on. But you know where your high school characters ostensibly spend their days??? IN HIGH SCHOOL!!!! When was the last time these people were even AT school? Why are we watching meetings with freaking Zach and the "Wet Hot American Summer" chick (although I like that actress) discuss this ridiculous contrived graphic novel after we already had to suffer through that other meeting where they stupidly stayed in that hotel room and just NO. No, no, NO! Bad "O.C.!" You have really old actors playing teenagers in high school in California, and that right there is a recipe for success. You have awesomeness at your fingertips and you are WASTING it. You know how 90210 was great when they were all in high school, but totally boring when all they did was continuously buy the Peach Pit After Dark from each other and go to Donna Martin's fashion shows? You know how "Buffy" was best when everyone was in high school instead of the Summers' living room? Yes. Well. PLEASE take the younger "O.C." set OUT of the freaking office and put them BACK in the damn classroom while you still can. Or the cafeteria/coffeeshop/arcade/whatever that place with the couches is. School. Now.

7. Sexual tension between Ryan and Marissa. Guys. Seriously. For real, now. I am not sure I have ever seen a couple on TV with less chemistry. The only thing those two ever had bonding them together was the opposite side of the tracks thing, and Ryan's desperate need to save the emotional black hole that is Marissa. And you know, fine. I can get down with that. I cried when they danced to Jem's "Amazed." Unhealthy, codependent relationships set to good music make for good television! But this whole now they've both grown and can't escape The Destiny That Is Each Other? Noooo. Because what the hell, anyway? Marissa? What is the deal? Is she an alcoholic, rebellious bitch who throws furniture into the pool and sleeps with short gardeners? Is she a party girl lesbian? Those are the two personalities shes had so far this season, "O.C." You can't just all of a sudden decide that she's now the demure ingenue who drinks water at parties and buys people apartments out of the goodness of her heart. It's very implausible and also quite irritating. But if you just can't stop yourselves from getting Ryan and Marissa back together, then get it over with, please. No more will they or wont they interrupted-kiss scenes. My stomach can't take it.

8. Self-referential meta nonsense, including, but not limited to, "The Valley." I know this one might be too much to ask for. I'd imagine that going cold turkey on the inside jokes might be too much for y'all to handle. But can you dial it down just a tad? Especially the everything was better last year sledgehammer? How 'bout -- and this is just an idea -- you actually make it better, instead of just talking about how it used to be better? Because, you know. It was. And you're only in your second season. Geez.




Things That I Would Happy To See More Of On "The O.C."

1. Julie Cooper singing hair metal band songs while drunk.

2. For that matter, Julie Cooper doing anything. I love her.

3. Alex. The only excuse a show would have for such an abrupt sendoff as the one you gave Alex is if the actor had to go to rehab or something. Alex ruled! Once she took her hair out of that "Rollerball" ponytail and got a personality, she was awesome, and Olivia Wilde had great chemistry with everyone.

4. Cool clothes. I havent felt compelled to visit Reel-Style in a while, people. Lets get it together.

5. Luke! I love Luke! Im pretty sure Chris Carmack is done filming his "Smallville" episode. Bring him back to "The O.C.!"

6. Danny, the loud Leno lover from "The Rivals." I wouldn't want him around all the time, but in small doses, he'd be good. You know, you're allowed to have a tertiary character that exists as more than just an obstacle to the Great Romances of the major characters.

7. Sandy and Kirsten happy together for more than half an episode. Seriously, couldn't you have spaced out the Kim Delaney/Rocketeer guy storylines by like, a TINY BIT? Or you know. Not had them to begin with.

8. Any of the other seemingly forgotten characters, e.g., Jimmy Cooper, Nana, Theresa, Anna, Hailey...Have them send a telegram or something. That would be awesome.

©2005

Ewan I Need To Talk

So I heard this morning that Ewan McGregor is going to be starring in "Guys and Dolls" in London. And you know, good for him and all. But here's the thing: he has already stated that he will not sign any autographs on "Star Wars" memorabilia. This really irks me.

Disclaimer: I heard this on the radio. If it isn't true, I will take this down! So you know, Ewan McGregor, if you eagerly await my new blogs and are now all crestfallen and/or perturbed, set me straight if I'm wrong.

However, if it is true -- what the hell? Now, I get that "Star Wars" fans can be scary and annoying. I've never been a Trekkie, or a...Warrie or anything. But I am an extremely avid "Buffy" lover, so I know from terrifying fans. The fanfiction alone is enough to induce nausea and nightmares. And mention on the boards to a B/A shipper that you are a B/S shipper, or just try telling the people on that one W/T site that sawry, sawry, but really and truly there were episodes after ,"Entropy," and you've got World War Three on your hands.

But I digress. My point is, don't bite the hand that feeds you, McGregor! We all know youre a Very Serious Actuh. Still, no one forced you to make tons and tons of money playing one of the most well-known fictional characters of all time, you know, EVER. I've always admired actors who smartly manage their careers, making big money movies here and there to help them afford to do the projects they really care about. I, however, really do NOT admire when actors get loads of money to do big movies, then bitch about those big movies while they're off being artsy-fartsy. Because, seriously. Leonardo DiCaprio getting a bit thrown by the "Titanic" craze is one thing. A lot of people expected that movie to tank, and anyway, it was a stand-alone piece. The "Star Wars" prequels? Three of the most highly anticipated movies of all time. You HAD to know what you were getting into! I mean, you just had to!

So it's great that you're getting to do a musical in London, and very lovely of you to take a pay cut in order to do it. But, please, Ewan. Be a bitch about autographs or don't be, but don't start dickering about which fans are cool enough to sit with you at the lunch table.

And don't ever put me in the position of defending Leonardo DiCaprio again.

©2005

A Thursday Morning: The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

The Good: My hair looks very Cameron Diaz today.

The Bad: It looks very Cameron Diaz in "Being John Malkovich."

The Ugly: I don't get any theater cred for uglying myself up. To others, this is just my hair on purpose.



The Good: "Survivor" is on tonight!

The Bad: Bobby Jon is not.

The Ugly: Jenn is.



The Good: I got an extra half hour's sleep this morning.

The Bad: I got it because I skipped doing "Priscilla's Yoga Stretches."

The Ugly: As a result, I managed to sprain my neck by yawning.



The Good: My skin is less irritated today because I gave it a Vaseline treatment.

The Bad: The Vaseline made its way to my hair, adding to the whole Cameron Diaz weirdness. How do you wash one little piece of hair without washing the whole head?

The Ugly: You can't.



The Good: Shannon is celebrating her one-year anniversary on Saturday!

The Bad: I have no one to accompany me to Daffodil Days at the Arboretum.

The Ugly: Because Lord knows I'm not going to motivate myself to wake up on a Saturday morning. Or, let's be honest, afternoon.



The Good: Babz bought me my very own little purse, to help me be a grownup person who keeps my cards all in one place, rather than scatter them all about my disaster of a pocketbook, losing my ATM card every other day.

The Bad: My very own little purse is too tiny for anything but coins.

The Ugly: I don't have any coins.



The Good: My assertion that "Oh, face!" was indeed once a popular insult was validated in both a "Family Guy" episode and a "Six Feet Under" recap.

The Bad: Still, no one believes me, and thinks I made it up.

The Ugly: When I try to reference the "Family Guy," or the recap, people just tell me I watch too much TV.



The Good: "American Idol" managed to find a classy, beautiful, talented woman in Nadia Turner.

The Bad: Stupid voters got rid of her last night. WHY, America? Why?

The Ugly: I now hate everybody.



The Good: I've lost 13 pounds from sensible dieting, and a bunch of inches from exercising, and now I fit into the cute, summery, delicate skirts my lovely mother bought for me.

The Bad: This means I have to start hanging up my clothes instead of leaving them on the floor, because apparently pretty clothes wrinkle.

The Ugly: And now I have to wear girly shoes, which I haven't the slightest idea how to go about doing.



The Good: It's almost lunchtime.

The Bad: I have to use it to apply for a part-time job at a video store.

The Ugly: I'm kind of excited about it.

©2005

Bonsai Demons Don't Really Exist

Going to clubs is quite a complicated ordeal. It's one of those things that you really have to muster up energy for, and you are never genuinely sure if it is worth it. I don't know that I've ever had a fully satisfying club experience, but I am still hit with a burning desire to go every now and again.

But okay. For starters, deciding what to wear is very tricky. Because you want to look sexy, but you REALLY dont want to be one of *those* girls. And if you are from Long Island, you know exactly who I mean. The girls who manage to become identical for the evening, with their random shades of overprocessed, overstraightened, overpartedinthemiddle blonde hair. And the hair never goes with the skin tone, which varies but remains in the orange family, and is covered with tons of makeup, including, but not limited to, raccoon eyes to the nth degree. And they all have either pink tank tops and/or whatever style is most unflattering that season that is all the rage even though it doesn't look good on anyone. A couple of years ago it was Andre the Giant tank tops. Last year it was those hideous tiny skirts with the ruffles that really should not have been resurrected since their death in 1990.

So you don't want to be one of those girls, but you want to look good. And you don't want to be too warm. And you want your hair and makeup to be a little more, since it's a club and it's all very glamorous in your head before you get there, but you don't want it to be too high maintenance. And the shoes. It is VERY VERY hard to find shoes that make you taller, comfortable, dressy, AND able to dance. Next to impossible. But when all is said and done, you do what you can do, and hope for the best.

With that taken care of, once you get to the club, and make it past the bouncers, and, in the case of the China Club, metal detectors(!), you are in. You are there -- The Club. And because we've all seen "Sex and the City" at least a couple of times, walking in feels exciting, what with the good beat for walking and your fresh hair and makeup that has yet to deteriorate.

It's all good so far, but you then are faced with the decision of what to drink. And that, unfortunately, is where the cool points go out the window for many a club. Because paying $32 for a round of 4 drinks, two of which had no alcohol, made me very sad when I was at the China Club. So you have to budget. Bottled beer is the best to bring on the dance floor, but is it the biggest bang for your buck? Shannon and I have found that a shot of tequila with a beer for the floor works out pretty nicely. As long as youre not at China Club. Sorry, China Club. You kind of rule, otherwise, but your prices are so insanely ridiculous that I can't see you anymore unless you do some kind of real drink special, and I don't mean that BS one-hour open bar when you don't even open for the first half hour.

Anyway. So then you have your drink, and you're all set to go out and do your thing. You wait for a good song to come on, and if youre lucky, it will be a club that plays individual hip hop songs as opposed to that Mixmaster Mess of terrible dance songs extended 12 hours to be even terribler. But say the song is good, and you're feeling it, and you're having a good time dancing around. And then. THEN! You feel IT -- The Shadow From Behind. The impending approach of a guy who really thinks it's charming and sexy when he comes up from behind you and starts grabbing your hips and grinding into you. I used to live in fear of this, wanting to dance but worrying the whole time about what I would do when a guy would dance with me. So I instituted a policy. Now I just tell guys, "I dont touch." One very very drunk guy responded to this in the following manner:


GUY: Well how about this? (touches my waist)

ME: No.

GUY: Okay, that's cool, that's cool. (pause, dance)
This? (touches my shoulder)

ME: No. No touching. I don't touch.

GUY: There's something wrong with you.

ME: Okay.

GUY: I feel sorry for you.

ME: Yeah.

GUY: (huffily stumbles off)


So armed with this tactic, you've survived The Shadow From Behind. Now it's time to deal with the Awkward Smalltalkers. And I'm not trying to be mean, here. I'm not talking about the guys brave enough to approach someone in general. I'm talking about the guys obviously just out for sex, and not even interesting about it. Conversation with Awkward Smalltalkers usually goes something like this:


GUY 1: So what's your names?

ME: Judi.

SHANNON: (random lie)

GUY 2: Ohhhh, what do you do?

ME: I'm a proofreader. It's very glamorous and exciting.

SHANNON: (random lie)

ME: What about you?

GUY 1: Blah blah blah.

GUY 2: Blah blah blah.

GUY 1: So, is your hair really red?

SHANNON: Yeah.

GUY 1: Cool. Me and my buddy here were thinking maybe,
you, uh, wanna dance?


And here is where you escape via the bathroom. Because you really do have to go, anyway. So you excuse yourself, and head forth. But, lo! There is the obstacle course to contend with. First, you must shove through drunk, loud girls who are falling backwards onto you and flipping their hair into your drink (another point for bottles). In addition, you must squeeze past guys who will pretend to not be able to move so they can cop a cheap feel. This is very annoying and pathetic.

Finally, FINALLY, you are in the bathroom. You must then wait on a line and watch women fall in and out of stalls, while someone yells about how so-and-so is such a bastard, and she can't believe he slept with that whore, and she certainly can't believe said whore had the nerve to show up that night, and the whore better watch herself or she's gonna get punched in the face.

And so on, and so forth. Toilet seats are wet, half-empty glasses and beer bottles perch precariously all over the stall. But you prevail. And if you are lucky, you will meet Loving Drunk Girl, who will totally become your best friend for the remainder of the night. Lend her a scrunchie, and she'll shout randomly throughout the club about how you rule, and she'll sing your praises to all of her friends, and you, being drunk yourself, will feel very special indeed.

Finally, the time has come to say goodbye. And you know this because if you are at Minnesota's, you are hearing "I Had the Time of My Life" and Shannon is all prepared to do The Lift, no joke, and her Tasmanian Bedeviled friend is all ready to help her. But then the song is cut short, so no one ends up in the hospital.

And as you venture out into the balmy night, you gaze wistfully at the scene you leave behind. Where memories were made, and that really hairy guy managed to make out with the tiny sorority girl who's been drunk since her first Cosmopolitan and is now asleep on the curb. Guys in white t-shirts yell into their cell phones about how Vinny totally beat up some guy and it rocked, 'cause his boys all had his back. And you will wander on into the night, tired, smelling like smoke, and grateful to be out in the fresh air walking with Shannon instead of tearfully arguing with your boyfriend like that girl Jen on the corner.

Good times.

©2005

Fox + Stab At Sophistication = Weird Mess

Is it just me, or was last night's "American Idol" very weird? Everybody seemed embarrassed and confused, which, I'm sorry, but you're on "American Idol." You don't get to be embarrassed. What's with the "Musicals? Eh, wha-at?" attitude? I admit that I'm a bit prejudiced on this one. I was a drama major for about five minutes, and did a bunch of theater and own a lot of soundtracks. However, I completely understand that musicals are not everyone's cup of tea.

That said...SUCK IT UP. Simon? I know your schtick is to be the grumpy, pull-no-punches guy, but your palpable boredom throughout the night really grated. The theme was musicals. Deal with it. You claim to like Nadia, and she's been on the line for the past couple of weeks due to, according to you, less than stellar song choices. Well, last night she kicked it into high gear, looking GORGEOUS and classy and perfect, and she picked a great song and gave it her all. Time was short, and she deserved better from you than your petulant bitching at Ryan Seacrest about the theme choice.

And, Bo? I love you and everything, but, "I closed my eyes and pointed and prayed?" Give me a break. Because you're a "rocker," you have never heard of a single musical? If you're too cool to do show tunes, you're too cool to be on "American Idol" in the first place. But you're awesome, in my opinion, because youre a rocker and not afraid to cheese it up on AI. Your song choice was all right, and I think you did an okay job. But I think you could have become the coolest guy in the world if you'd found a song that you heard and loved and really believed in. Or if you sang "Edelweiss" like the spoilers said you were going to. Either way, there are like 25 billion show tunes cooler than Edwin McCain's "Ill Be," so come on.

No one else really bugged me that much, although I was disappointed by some of the choices. I mean, "People?" Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. "Climb Every Mountain?" Nice sentiment, Anthony, but you would have done so well with some scrappy cute boy song, like "Cool" from "West Side Story" or something. I just don't know that Mother Superior was the best fit for you, ya know? And I liked Scott's "The Impossible Dream" well enough, but I can't be objective about that because things were very awkward, what with the controversy. Nikko and Anwar were just great and awesome and I have no complaints about them.

However. HOWEVER. The thing that blew my mind the most last night is that I didn't hate Constantine or Carrie. I kind of even liked them. Which...no. It's too surreal. Maybe it's because now the judges call Constantine a poseur every week and he is cool about it so I find it endearing. Anyway, I liked Constantine and I kind of LOVED Carrie. She's like a million times less annoying when Simon isn't kissing her ass nonstop, and she sounded fantastic. Simon disagreed, but I thought the old-fashioned musical thing was really working for her.

So, stop it, "American Idol." Agree on the themes beforehand, or if you can't, then dont argue about it in front of the kids. Get it together and quit being weird.

©2005