Now listen here kids, I live in damn Hollywood! And let me tell you, we’ve been having a lot of drama around here since I last threw up a little bit of Idol porn for your entertainment pleasure. If I’m being honest, and we know I always am, I’m plumb tuckered out!
Now, as often happens with ex’s and such, I relented and let the good Farmacist Dr. P. Haze bring a big ole pizza over and watch this fraudulent and indulgent show we affectionately call Idol. Since the good Farmacist was in peaceful frame of mind it was actually, and quite shockingly, a most enjoyable evening of watching the musically inclined (and challenged) take the stage over at the Kodak (where apparently the good Farmacist has spent some quality time inspecting the carpet – yes, my mind is still trying to wrap itself around that tid-bit of useless information).
Now, since last week’s fiasco played out on my big ass teevee – the kind that hangs on the wall and puts forth a crystal clear image – we’ve had some real mew-zi-tians show us what real performing is all about. Now listen, it’s rare for me to venture from my little casa high in the hills above Hollywood, however, when the beacons beckon, red carpet calls and the sparkling invitation says that my ignoble presence is requested, it didn’t take a real genius to ring up all manner of nice gay designers and stylists to do me up and over for a night on tinsel town.
Of course, while the evening was suppose to be all about the music, instead we ended up dealing with little cute sexiness and his manhandling ways. As the iPhone’s and Crackberry’s cackled and cajoled all manner of illicit information on the goings on of two of Hollywood’s young and sassy, we missed some rather amazing performances. Performances that our frauds over at the Kodak should, yes kids, absolutely should, have been paying attention to. And Lawd, little Miss Katy Perry cooing about kissing a gurl and liking it, well, it just warmed the cockles of my dark, cold heart!
But I have digressed! I will admit that drama is what my little berg on this quite amazing planet revolves around. We blast slow speed police chases by young guys in Bentley’s all over our teevees and let Paula’s atrocious silver vomit like neck thing lead off our evening news. And Lawd, Miss Paula was sure in rare form last night!!! It’s been a long time since I pulled out the home version of the Drunk Paula game, but kids, last night was a good night for it. Those damn little seal claps and standing touch-downs were a sight to behold. I found myself laughing quite hysterically at the thought of Paula giving the blind guy a standing O…dumbass!!!
Of course, drama apparently wouldn’t be complete, at least during Hollywood week, with out the seemliness that emanated from one particular fraud. This little one-woman freakshow has me nearly on the verge of sending one of my security goons down from my little place high in the hills above Hollywood to dispatch little miss “can’t be wrong” to a place far, far away. I refuse to mention the little drama-bitches name, but, you know who I’m talking about. The simple fact that she made it through last night made me want to hurt people!!
Now listen, as we revved up the drama, little Simon decided he needed to head off back across the pond to his humble little abode in London town. Where, apparently and according to news reports on the venerable site TMZ, we learn that he played a spectacular version of the home game Drunk Paula. Lawd children, TMZ is everywhere and celebrities must be careful because they will catch you at your most inopportune moment and then flash your foolishness across the interwebs until the whole damn world has seen your little bit of drunken silliness. Lawd, someone of Mr. Cowell’s exemplary distinction and character surely would know better than to be seen drunken and dazed carrying a cancer stick around. But again, I’ve digressed.
Now listen here kids, this is taking too damn long. We didn’t get rid of nearly enough of those damn frauds who are attempting to fake star-power in an effort to get a crappy little tiara to wear on their crappy little heads. And, can I just get one thing off of my heaving chest…that damn child who sang Disturbia, you know the one, Lawd, I could drop kick that child to the moon. He just annoys the hell out of me!
I was thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to see my boy Jamar and his man friend survive. I was not even shocked! YAY and hurray!
Now I’ve got lots more to say, but with all the drama, I’m runnin on fumes. Celebrities beating the sh*t out of each other; Young and presumably wealthy Bentley owners commiting hari-kari while the whole of Los Angeles looks on; stylists, make-up artists and the like working themselves to the bone so that the royalty that rules this town can throw another damn party to congratulate ourselves on all our good work the past year. Yes, it’s plumb exhausting. So, quit asking for more…I ain’t got it in me.