Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

American Idol Results Recap, Thursday, February 28: Let’s Just Dis And Say Goodbye

Well, the time has come to again kick a few bodies to the proverbial curb.

And I’m glad.

After the number of lackluster performances the past two nights, we really do need to thin the herd. Too many confusing blonds and too many girlfriends with headscarves and poofed hair. Too many boys who do little but take up space and denim.

By now, the talent is clear. And since I have to drive another two hours tonight to take care of my eldest daughter, let’s rip this band-aid off...

Lights low, the contestants lined up across the stage as Ryan began, "The competition is fierce (careful Ryan, I think Christian has a patent on that word), the eliminations are inevitable, the drama is real."

OK, Ryan, if we’re keeping it real, a la Randolph Jackson, fierce is a bit of an overstatement. Fierce implies lions, tigers, and bears. Not this group of puppies, kittens, and WebKinz. As for the drama being real? Not so much for us, dude. So let’s get to it.

T.I.A.I.

Calling the 31 million votes phoned and texted in "unprecedented", he then said hello to the judges: Randy in his 1-800 FLOWERS shirt. I swear, Ricky Minor must be moonlighting as a stylist this season. And what’s up with chin pube extensions – didn’t they look thicker and darker than last night?

Oh wait. Last night was Sunday... Never mind.

Paula was also bogarting something from Fierocia Couture on Project Runway – his hairstyle. Hers was as lopsided as his ever was.

Simon, well, is it even worth saying anymore? Black.

Ryan then asked Randy what is the purpose of making the kids do theme nights?

His answer was actually good, and he’s right. It’s to get these kids away from what they know by heart from today’s radio. And honestly, we all know that anytime a contestant dares do something current, they always suffer by comparison.

So hearing Puppy Love take on Flo Rida’s Low, or Kady attempt Britney’s Gimme More (oh, wait – scratch that), just woudn’t work on more levels than I can count.

Ryan then brought up what everyone, including his own mother, has questioned this week. What in THE hell is up with the stupid sign language for the tone deaf impaired Simon has been doing?

Simon urged Paula to hold his hand to keep him from doing it, and then told Ryan it was secret code. Um,yeah – it is the international symbol for "Looooooo-ooooo-oooooser."

Moving on – quickly – because it was another GROUP SONG – and not a good one. The medley included I Saw The Light, Heartache, The Things We Do For Love (like suffer through GROUP SONGS), and I Feel The Earth Move. (I actually felt my dinner move .. a little too far north.)

The highlights (lowlights?)included MYchael’s terminal bed head. I like it. It makes me think of, well, bed. Ahem.

David C was recycling Blake Lewis’s ridiculous tuxedo t-shirt. Someone cleanse that thing with fire, please. Danny Alba shocked as he entered the screen in his bright orange striped sweater and meticulous make-up – he honestly looked prettier than the girls.

Several blonds filled the screen – I swear I still can’t tell them apart. And then there she was – Amanda. Hair pulled back, some length added – and she looked beautiful. I can totally deal with her blond on black hairstyle when it’s more subdued. I like being able to see HER.

Chikezie channeled Ward Cleaver in a lime green sweater vest, and Ramiele, Ramiele, Ramiele – someone get Tim Gunn. She has absolutely no idea how to dress her tiny frame. Those high waisted, tight pants? They only work on 6 foot, rail thin models. And even on them, they look stupid, like diapers with leggings attached.

Finally, as they all came together, they worked their big dance move of the night. The white man shuffle. Left, right, left, right, transferring their body weight from one foot to the other.

I have never been so happy to see a commercial break since, well, last week’s GROUP SONG.

Back on stage, the boys were assembled for the first round of cuts.

BACK ROW: Jason Le Pew, Danny Alba, Eze Mac, Dreadful, MYchael

FRONT ROW: Lukelando, David Cardenas, Poseur, Real Deal, Puppy Love

A video recap followed, as did my hitting the fast forward button.

With the lights down, Ryan had the back row stand up...

MYchael – SAFE; Eze Mac – SAFE; Dreadful – SAFE

That left Le Pew and Alba looking frightened – well, Danny looked a little pissed too, truth be told.

Ryan made it fairly quick – it was the end of the road for Jason. No one was truly surprised, then again, Miss Alba did look like he was going to faint for a second there...

Ryan talked to Jason for a moment, but I have no idea what was said, I was too distracted by the eerie greenish yellow lights shading half of everyone’s faces. They all looked partially jaundiced – even the judges.

Simon told him that he needs "a heck of a lot of experience" and that his main problem was he "didn’t stand out."

Then it was time for: Sing, circus money, sing!

He did. And I want an honest answer because I’m willing to ‘fess up. Who else completely forwarded through it? I hit the button so fast, I think I left skid marks on my plasma.

AFTER. THE. BREAK the girls were assembled thusly:

FRONT ROW:Carly, a Blond, Ramiele, Syesha, a Blond

BACK ROW: another Blond, Amanda, AlexandRAYa, a Blond, Asia’h

The back row stood, and Ryan quickly released Kristy (Blond #1), Asia’h, and Brooke (Blond #2) to safety.

That left Amanda and AlexandRAYa – now that was a toss up for me. Neither impressed last night – for different reasons. But if we’re looking at the bigger sin of non-memorability – then the choice was clear. Time for AlexandRAYa to go home.

Too bad – she’s cool and always having fun.

She reprised If You Leave Me Now – again, song titles on this show are eerily foreshadow-y in terms of who goes home – and I managed to watch about half. It was still just snoozy. (I did catch her go down the stairs to hug Puppy Love – lots of tears – that was sweet.)

Another break and we returned to the ladies still on the stage. This time the front row stood up and he quickly let Carly, Ramiele, and Syesha sit back down. Good. I want to see more of what they can do.

He called Alaina and Kady to center stage and they clung to one another while he recapped their performances. Staring at them that close together, it’s no wonder we can’t tell them apart – these two look like twins – Mary Kate and Nasty.

As it was, Annoy got to stay, and Alaina dissolved into tears. The first thing she said was, "I can’t sing. I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing."

No, Sunshine, it’s not. To be honest, it was refreshing to see someone finally own up to the incredible letdown and heartache this moment involves. I liked that she couldn’t immediately put on a brave face and soldier through.

Ryan asked Mama Abdul to say something and she stepped up with, "you are such a gifted, bright, young talent – you’re promising – and you have so many great experiences ahead of you."

Ryan then gave her the chance to sing, and surrounded by her girls, she managed to start. How fitting were those lyrics, I ask you?

"Guess mine is not the first heart broken, my eyes are not the first to cry."

No, no they’re not. That stage should resemble a salt pond from all the tears it has absorbed.

She continued to sing, and she did a fabulous job. I don’t think I have ever truly wanted to reach through my TV and hug one of these kids before tonight. I’ve wanted to reach through and choke some (Constantly Mugging Smarmoulis, Sanjaya), dry hump some (Daughtry, MYchael), snatch some baldheaded (Amanda, Scott Savol), but never just hug someone till now.

Another break and Ryan filled us in on the exciting news that come March 11, when we are down to the Top 12, there will be a new stage, Ruben Studdard has recorded a new exit song (good, I SO don’t want to start hating Hollywood’s Not America), and they have finally pried loose the Kung Foo grip on the Lennon/McCartney songbook.

Should be fun to watch Puppy Love do some Sgt. Pepper, huh?

Also, Idol Gives Back – the guilt-a-thon of last season – will be back for round #2. (Don’t get your pants in a wad. I am all for donating and giving to charity – I think everyone should, and too few who can, don’t. It’s just that show last year was the Bataan Death March of recapping. It was more bloated than a Gas-X commercial.)

And yes, I fast forwarded through the recap of THAT too. Sue me. I did catch that this time around Brad Pitt, Miley Cyrus, Reese Witherspoon, Mariah Carey, Snoop Dogg (dear God, tell me he won’t be performing Sexual Eruption – it’s bad enough to have to hear it on the radio – I don’t want to see it.), Daughtry, and Carrie Underwood will be part of the proceedings.

Finally, the lights went down one more time, and the boys in the front row stood up. Ryan called Lukelando and Poseur to center stage, declaring everyone else SAFE.

Another great DUH moment in television, my friends.

As Ryan recapped their efforts from earlier this week, all I could concentrate on was Robbie’s shirt. Da-amn, that was a BIG skull.

That he can take home and not terrorize me with ever again – he was out, Lukelando was SAFE.

Ryan called all four ejects up to watch their Idol journey – another 60 seconds, and four clicks of the Jump button on my remote, and then Robbie got one last chance to pretend he is a rockstar, reprising Hot Blooded.

And I didn’t care. Click, click, click, click, click, watch them hug.

So, let’s see, this week I got 3 out 4 predictions right. I’m getting good at this. Perhaps a trip to Vegas is in order if I stay on this winning streak?

Viva, baby.  Anyone else in?

American Idol Recap: Wednesday, February 27: How Deep Is YOUR Love For Any Of These Ladies?

Well, after Tuesday night’s performance, and everyone’s chance to sleep on what transpired, a couple things are obvious from all the email I have received:

1. MYchael lost some steam last night. So he’d better either step it up next week, or adopt the Haley Scarnato approach and perform half naked if he wants to survive.

2. Jason Yeager is NOT Elvis Presley.

And God help us all should he survive another week...

3. David Hernandez is now a FORCE to be reckoned with.

4. People would rather see Paula’s head squeezed off, not poor Puppy Love Archuleta’s. You would not, however, like to see her body hanging from your rearview mirror.

So how will the ladies fare with a menu of 70’s tunes from which to choose? Let’s put on our dancin’ shoes and see who came ready to Get Down Tonight, and who might be left asking, How Do You Mend A Broken Heart?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a brief warning that "The fate of ten girls hangs in the balance tonight," Ryan, dressed in JEANS and a black dress shirt, got things underway...

T.I.A.I.  (But NO, THIS is NOT LIVE.)

As he intro'd the ladies, and they ran through the Howdy-do Arch, only one thing stood out among the sea of blond hair and brunette hair extensions:

Amanda looked like Madeline Khan in Young Frankenstein.

Actually, that’s an insult to the late, great Ms. Khan. I DO take it back. Madeline looked hysterically funny. Amanda just looked hysterical.

A quick hello to the judges revealed Randy in a colorblocked sweater, the highlight of which was the egg yolk yellow around the front – bright and cheery, Randy. And it matched the beach jewelry still on your wrist, you little ray of sunshine, you..

Paula, her hair still tame, was dressed for the Junior League. She looked positively modest, not a cleave in sight. But that highnecked satin number? She must have been shopping where Ricky Minor gets his clothes: 1-800-FLOWERS.

Simon kept things overcast in a gray sweater that forecast, "possibly cloudy, chance of pain." Which young lady would get caught in a torrential downpour of criticism, and who might find her talents and song choice "hailed" tonight?

First up to enlighten the public to some facet of her personality, and somehow try to become more interesting (I swear it’s like handicapping a horse. Well, this one has sturdy legs from gymnastics, but this one can do crossword puzzles without breaking a sweat...), was Carly Smithson.

As she said in her clip, we already know that she and her hubby own a tattoo parlor (although he owns way more tattoos than Carly – just a personal opinion here, but when you have to move to the real estate of your scalp to continue your epidermal Crayola efforts, perhaps you’ve jumped the shark a tad. Then again, if you really like sharks, truly want one on your body, and all that remains unpolluted on your ocean of skin is your pate?). But Carly also works around the corner in an Irish Pub.

I must admit, I liked seeing her in that element. She seems like the kind of bartender you’d like to hang with. And then seeing that she is just a domestic goddess at heart? Cooking, cleaning, making the bed – in a kerchief, no less? Mission Accomplished, Nigel. You managed to humanize her a tad tonight. I mean, hey, I cook, I clean (sometimes), and I make the bed too! I can finally relate to her on some level!

She took the stage to sing Crazy On You in a sleeveless, black, empire waisted tunic over black leggings, and boots. And the stylists are earning their keep – her hair was sleek, her make-up miles removed from that hideous jaundice shadow she favored when we first met.

Of course her singing was great – she’s got serious vocal game. But I have to ask. What was she looking at on the ceiling the whole time? At one point she looked almost concerned – was there satellite debris falling from the sky? Slightly distracting.

(And some double sided tape might have been in order on that bodice. Every bounce was, well, way toodangerously bouncy.)

Randy noted some "sharp pitch problems", but that it was "good towards the end"; Paula called her an "amazing singer" who did an "amazing job"; Simon lauded it as a "much better performance than last week", then went on to say, "I don’t think any of these girls can touch you vocally, but what you haven’t done is chosen that ONE song that will give you ‘the moment’."

Which is absolutely true. Hopefully she can stick around long enough to nail a song that will push her past gifted vocalist, to A Star Is Born.

(Oh, and yes, as you all pointed out – Simon’s new signature hand gesture. He needs to get his elbow off Paula’s chair, or they simply need to superimpose a circle around him as he does his sign language for the tone deaf.)

The first break brought us back to the lovely Syesha Mercado talking about how she is an actress who has done many commercials. They highlighted one where she is on the beach with her "husband and child" and nails the line, "DU-wayne, find me a big, beautiful shell."

Not exactly the stuff of Clio awards, but that impression she did of a baby crying earned her the coveted trophy for Riding Linda’s Last Nerve. Yikes.

On stage she began singing the gender altered Me and MR. Jones. I cringed just a tad because switching up a song as well known as that only serves to make it distracting each time the singer gets to the switch. Maybe it’s because we sinisterly watch and secretly hope they botch it? Me -ee a-and Mrs, er, oops, I mean MR, not that there's anything wrong with MRS...

I have to say – again - Syesha is stunning. With her hair on full poof, tied back with a retro print scarf, a black minidress, and golden bird perches in her ears, she looked amazing. And girlfriend has some serious tone to those arms – not a Bingo wing in sight.

Her voice was strong and confident, but there was one moment when it seemed like she slid off the lyrics (I’d hate to think Ricky arranged such an awkward lapse) – she looked panicked, but then continued on, slipping easily in and out of soft and strong notes.

Randy, however, was not impressed. He called it "not a good song choice"; Paula "liked the interpretation", but noted that on the "soft notes you tend to fall off pitch"; Simon said it was a song "not designed for your voice", and that it was a "bit indulgent" to change the song from Mrs. Jones to Mr.

WEATHER WARNING: Clouds gathering. Possible severe thunderstorms, take cover.

As Syesha sought shelter, we learned that Brooke White once attended beauty school, enjoying the art of cutting and styling hair. But then this music thing got in the way and she became – are you ready? – wait ... for ... it – a ... beauty school dropout!

I’ll pause whilst you collect yourself.

Ready to continue? Good.

Sitting on a stool, strumming her guitar, Brooke looked pretty with her hair wavy, still very prim in her short sleeved, but turtlenecked orange top, JEANS, and boots.

Interesting song choice – You’re So Vain. I started to roll my eyes, but the more she sang, I actually started to like it. Plus anyone who can glide so smoothly over "your scarf it was apricot" and "watched yourself gavotte"? Props. Even Warren Beatty was impressed.

Her voice is enjoyable, although it does tend to go AWOL on her lower notes. Other than that, my only other criticism is that she was too smiley and chipper for a song that is essentially an F.U. to a man.

(Loved that before Randy started to speak, Simon could be heard asking "Was she looking at me?" during the choruses.)

Randy called it a "great song choice"; Paula saw his ‘great’ and raised it a "perfect"; Simon said, "I absolutely loved it. It was an absolute perfect song choice for you."

(Oh look! The sun just came back out – grab the Coppertone!)

Another break and we returned to Ramiele Malubay demonstrating her hidden talent: hula dancing. Loved the photos of her as a little girl in full hula garb. (And for the record? I’ve lived in Hawaii, and given it a try. It is much more leg muscle intensive that you would ever imagine. And those coconut bras? Well, they tend to want to come off your ... coconuts.)

(Note: Anyone else notice the deal Idol must have gotten on wholesale pashminas? Every girl AND boy has one wrapped around their throats in these interview clips. Yes, yes, I know, protect the "instrument"...)

Ramiele took the stage dressed like season three contestant, Camile Velasco. (That’s not a good thing.) Tight skinny JEANS, heels (I know she is short, but this is not a flattering look on her), and a couple cheap looking tank tops. Camile never appeared polished or put together, and tonight, Ramiele just looked like she was heading to the mall right after she performed to meet Camile for Sbarro and some Orange Julius.

And what was with the Altoid dangling from her ear? Curiously distracting.

Singing Don’t Leave Me This Way, she started off slow and opened up at the chorus, but knowing how big her voice is, I was truly left with a feeling of ‘don’t leave me this way’ – blow the damned doors off, girl. She just seemed to "sing" it, not feel it or sell it tonight.

Randy called it "just ok"; Paula chose to ignore the performance (a theme she followed tonight), instead blathering on about knowing her vocals "are truly amazing" and calling her, based on the past, "one to beat"; Simon called her performance "one I’m not going to remember so well" and that even though he considers her to be in "the top 3 best singers in the competition ... it wasn’t one of your best."

Kristy Lee Cook was up next highlighting all her tomboy ways. Kristy is a beautiful girl, and I like that she enjoys the outdoors, camping, hiking, fishing, softball, her horses – doesn’t mind getting dirty.

Strutting out in glimmering black velvet pants, a shiny silver top (that’s where Paula’s cleavage went tonight), her hair on full "hot mess" (in a good way), Kristy tore into You’re No Good – she had some solid throaty growls, seemed much more into it than last week, but she needs to drop that wide legged I’ve-been-riding-horses-all-day stance of hers.

It was a good performance, but not truly being her kind of music, it never really galloped, just cantered to the finish.

Randy said it was a "100% improvement over last week"; Paula yelled, "You're back, You’re back, you’re back!" and then that phrase she likes about being "in the pocket"; Simon warned her that while she has "real potential", he still doesn’t know "how to label" her and steered her towards what seems natural – country.

Another break to insure Nigel and Company’s great-great-great grandchildren never have to work and we returned to our rocker nurse, riding her Harley, and confessing to being another closet "word nerd" like David Cook. Amanda truly enjoys reading and has a "knowledge is power" mindset. Good for her.

And I have to say, that with her hair pulled back and covered with a scarf, she is a truly beautiful girl.

A fact which was completely obliterated by her Halloween-esque get-up tonight. My first note when she slammed onto the stage?

OH. MY. GOD. Her hair matches her pants.

Seriously, all apologies to Madeline Khan for my previous statement. Amanda’s look was complete overkill – way beyond the reaches of Dr. Frankenstein’s reanimating powers.

The hair was frightening, like she had woven fifteen skunk pelts into the front. And those pants? Were they white with black flames? Or black with white blotches?

Singing Carry On My Wayward Son, she flipped the bird to changing the gender of the lyrics a la Syesha, and referred to herself as "man" throughout the song.

Look, I’m not going to argue with someone who looks that scary.

You know, I liked the video of her. She seems like a grounded, decent, intelligent person. But these performances of hers, especially this one, seem so forced, so intent on proving some rock n roll point, they are almost caricatures.

And thank God they dimmed the spot on the musical interlude when she began to spasm, er, sorry – dance.

Yes, she has a big throaty voice, but she is simply not my cup of T – quila.

Randy called it "pitchy" and said it "wasn’t the right song, wasn’t the right look"; Paula agreed it wasn’t the right song, but Paula being Paula, also had to add a layer of saccharine with "you can dance" and "you are special"; Simon said "everything felt contrived from what you are wearing, to this terrible hair, to the indulgent song choice. None of it felt natural, real – I couldn’t wait for it to finish."

TORNADO WARNING: TAKE COVER IMMEDIATELY (perhaps in Amanda’s hair. It did look pretty sturdy tonight.)

Another break and we came back to find that Alaina Whitaker doesn’t like her food to touch on her plate. OCD much, Alaina? I know this was supposed to be cute on some level, but all it did was make my emotions push apart like all those starches on her plate.

Choosing to sing Hopelessly Devoted To You, Alaina wore a sapphire blue strapless dress, heels, her hair soft over her shoulders. She looked lovely.

For a Homecoming dance.

The performance was OK till she opened up and then it seemed like the only audience she was courting was the feral cat demographic – I swear they were singing along in the lot next door.

Randy called it "really pitchy" and said she "over shot it"; Paula ignored the actual performance and bestowed a basket of kitties, puppies, sunshine, Prozac, and rainbows on the girl; Simon called it "a bit pageanty" and said it looked like her "grandmother had prepared" her for the audition.

My note? She is just "one of the many blonds."

Next, AlexandRAYa (get it right, people) Lushington, who spoke of once planning on trying to become a member of the Atlanta Fire Department. Moving moment – she spontaneously sang at Ground Zero a few months after 9-11 while visiting the site.

Choosing to sing Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now (for those who predict ousters based on song titles – double ugh?), AlexandRAYa was dressed pretty cool actually – khaki long shorts, gray long sleeved T, hoodie, puffy vest, and ankle boots.

The problem was, while the look was breaking and entering the fashion scene, the vocals seemed to be under a restraining order. There was no moment when she was even able to make it memorable. That song is simply one big Lunesta tablet, complete with dippy butterfly.

Randy called it "so safe for you" and cautioned her to "always challenge yourself"; Paula piled on the BS with "stretched it", "made it your own", "very impressed" and this season’s already overkilled watchword: "relevant"; Simon said she is "struggling" and that she constantly went "in tune, out of tune."

A low front moving in as storm clouds gathered over AlexandRAYa’s eyes...

Would Kady Malloy experience gentle breezes of praise, or would Typoon Simon sweep through?

Her revelation is that she has been singing opera since she was a child. (Um, isn’t she still a child? Never mind.) She actually sounded pretty good, but then I am constantly amazed at how set of bathroom tiles can transform me from Rosanne Barr into Pat Benatar, too...

Dressed in sheer black leggings and a minidress covered in Easter eggs (she even had one on her finger), Kady strutted down the stairs and began singing Magic Man, and I actually felt my spleen run and hide behind my gall bladder – the inward cringing was that bad.

Magic Man is a sexual, hard charging, lustful song. None of those things are truly (or should be) within the realm of experience of a teenage girl. But oh, how she tried, obviously equating eye schtuping (all credit to Madeline Khan in Blazing Saddles) and dropping the last sound from most words, with maturity and sexy story telling. "try ta understa---".

Randy said she "never quite found the notes" and that it "didn’t work"; Paula said that on the low notes she "lost a little"; and Simon declared it "never went anywhere" and that while her personality is working on her interview tapes, it is "not in person". Oh, and "one million percent the wrong song."

For her part, Kady looked like she could give emotional meteorologist Cowell a run for his barometer – she was practically shooting lightening from her eyes again.

Finally, Asis’H Epperson was up to close the show. A former cheerleader, she spoke of how she learned to "give it her all" and feels it has prepared her for the Idol stage.

She decided that giving it her all could best be facilitated by dressing like a school librarian. High waisted houndstooth skirt, white, puffed short sleeved blouse, and a couple new feet of straightened hair.

She came out and launched into the slow opening of All By Myself – the song which is routinely trotted out at this stage each season by some female Celineabe. The best it has ever been done on that stage is by LaToya London when she hit a vocal homerun that sent chills (the good kind) down our spines.

I imagine the Idol PTB asked for the lyric change? Surely, if she had botched the lines, at least one of the judges would have called her on it, wouldn’t they?

She sang "And even though the nights are young" instead of "And making love was just for fun."

Can’t give those puberty laden teens any ideas now...

It was just bad. From getting lost in her lower register, to not being able to fully scale the notes, or hold them as long as is needed to impress – my spleen stayed firmly hidden.

As for the money note? Let’s just say LaToya London can sleep well tonight.

Randy and Paula, obviously drinking the Happy Koolaid again, heard it differently, I guess.

Randy told her she did a "really good job"; Paula said that while there were "some problems in the low points", "it was great"; Simon decided to let the tsunami wash over poor Asia’h beginning by lecturing her about All By Myself being "one of THE diva songs of all time" and that "you have to be one heck of a singer to pull it off – unfortunately, you’re not." OUCH. He sent another wave of disdain with "You’re not that good a singer" and "the song was too big for you."

He ended with "know your limitations" which he then applied to our carefully coiffed host, "something you’ve managed to do in your career, Ryan."

Sucker punch.

A quick video recap of the performances – and here is my prediction: Asia’h, who completely squandered the money spot; Kady, who needs a swift kick in her spoiled Britney-esque rear; and/or Alaina (insert "who is she again??) Whitaker.

And that’s it for Ladies’ Night. Overall, I don’t think there were many high spots to choose from. I certainly can’t Imagine that David Archuleta is feeling threatened.

(Oh, and yes, I am a little over Ryan ending every show by pointedly thank Randy and Paula and not Simon. That bit has gotten so old, so fast, it has mold spores and is growing "eyes" like a potato.)

So, what do you think? Feel any warmer towards Carly? Any colder towards the blond contingent? Can you tell them apart yet? Chime in, and tune in tonight to see who is told You’re No Good and You Don’t Have To Be A Star, Baby.

AI Recap Word of Warning...

I am currently mired in what, in the fraternity world, would be known as Hell Week.

No Rudy - lots of soccer, and Culley rehearsing for the Miss Teen Austin USA pageant the next two nights - A FULL HOUR + SOUTH OF MY HOME.

While I am taking AI notes full speed ahead, I have to leave to begin the trek to pick her back up at 9pm. 

That being said, please don't look for the recap being posted tonight.  I'll be at it first thing in the morning, ok?

So you go to bed too!

For Mary Lou In FL

Your WISH is my command.

For Gayle & Jamie...

I don't see it, but...

Then again, he does have Phoebe's puffy lips and big ... um attitude.

One Is The Loneliest Number ... Till Tomorrow Night, That Is

American Idol Recap: Tuesday, February 26: 70’s Night, But Which Guys Will Be Stayin’ Alive Come Thursday?

OK, let’s get one thing cleared up before we start the recap of the show...

YES, Joanne did bungle and let the pre-taping cat out of the bag last week. She said "Sunday" (the day she and the ladies actually taped their performances), then quickly attempted to cover it with "I mean, Wednesday" (referring to the day the show was broadcast.)

YES, the performance shows at this point in the competition ARE pre-taped. Currently, the boys are singing for their supper on Saturday, the girls on Sunday. Do I think some transparency of this fact would have been appreciated by the general populus before Joanne’s tongue trippage?

Of course. But then, I’m a big fan of the truthiness.

I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising, given the current number of contestants and the extreme amount of work to be done between shows: Picking songs, rehearsals, Vommercials, hair, make-up, photo shoots, interview packages, schooling for the young ‘uns, you name it. Oh yeah, they try to sleep a little too.

A little.

Does it take a little of the excitement away from Tuesday and Wednesday nights right now? I think so. And according to all the emails I have received from AI fans asking if the pre-taping rumor is true, they do too.

There’s just something connecting about sitting in your Barca lounger - as the music starts and the cyber contestant suppository rises through the enemavator and emerges through the neon colon – wondering, Are Puppy Love Archuleta’s palms sweaty right now? How is Michael wearing his hair tonight? Is any girl regretting her choice of outfit? How many pounds of hair extensions are going to be used?

Knowing now that the whole thing is already said and sung? A little bit letdown-y for a lot of viewers.

That being said, the results show is LIVE. So, that fear you see, those tears that fall? All real, baby.

So, hang in there, kids. Once we finish separating the wheat from the chaff and get down to a Top 12, the show will go ALL LIVE.

Now, how’s about we channel some Saturday Night Fever, put on some mental bell bottoms and a polyester top, and finish with some platform shoes with goldfish in the heels and enjoy tonight’s theme: The 70’s! (OH, and count your blessings. No Barry Gibb nipples showing through a see-thru shirt this time around...)

Dressed in a dark suit, and a skinny tie more suited to the 80’s than the 70’s, Ryan welcomed the world (yes, the world – this show gets seen EVERYWHERE by week’s end) with those words we’ve come to know so well ...

Oh hell, who needs the actual words anymore?

T. I. A. I.

Seriously, if you don’t know what that stands for by now...

As the guys were introduced and did the run through the Red Room arch, I noticed three things tonight:

1. Robbie Carrico was hatless, scarfless, do-ragless. He also is in serious need of the Bo Bice V05 treatment.

2. Michael Johns makes a t-shirt ooze sex.

3. Puppy Love Archuleta is just too damned cute, like a, well, a puppy.

The quick hello to the judges revealed Randy in his Diabetes commercial wardrobe of a v-neck sweater with silver lining, and some of the bracelets my daughters bought on the beach in St. Maarten.

Paula was working pleather? Leather? Leather and lace? Or a pleather disgrace? Whatever it was, it was whipstitched, and highlighted the shoehorn she had dangling between her breasts.

I will give her credit for the hair tonight. As Culley observed, "There’s not as much." And "not as much" was a much better look.

Simon was once again in black, but one could easily tell that his version of a black sweater and ours varies by about $300.

Randy’s advice to the guys tonight? "You’ve gotta bring it hard." (And yes, I could hear the simuldrooling being done by all the Michael Johns fans... grab this rope and I’ll pull you out of that slippery gutter you’re trapped in.)

Simon kept it much simpler, and less pornographic, "Be better."

Pulling the short straw tonight (then again, he did get the money spot last week), was MYchael. Dressed in a simple orange t-shirt and JEANS, he left the flamboyant styling options to Ricky Minor. (Did you catch that rosebush growing up out of Ricky’s pants all over his shirt? Paging Tim Gunn, paging Tim Gunn – one Guide To Style, stat!)

As this is not only 70’s night, but a night of revelations, as in The-Night-We-Learn-Something-Surprising-About-The-Contestants, MYchael was highlighted playing tennis, a sport he has loved since childhood. Riveting.  Although he duhs look nice in shorts. I could do without the Olivia-Newton-John-Physical headband....

On stage, MYchael chose to sing Fleetwood Mac’s Go Your Own Way, and I hate to say that my first reaction after he started was, "UGH." He was not "on" at all. It seemed forced, stilted, and even a tad screamchy in parts.

I even wrote the words "seems a little desperate."

On the bright side, I will conjecture that his gaze into the camera on "shackin’ up’s all you want to do" was met by millions of "um, no, that’s not all I want to do, MYchael."

Randy called it a "nice way to start it off" and said that MYchael is a "good singer" – DUH FACTOR of 7.9, Randy; Paula called him "consistent," "charismatic," and "seasoned"; Simon said it was "OK" and his "weakest performance."

AFTER. THE. BREAK we returned to Ryan in the Red Room with Jason "Dreads" Travolta. Remember Battlefield Earth? OK, no one else does either, but John was rocking some pretty serious dreads in that movie, even had some hanging out his nose.

The big reveal about Jason? He hates doing interviews.   

Moving yawn...

Choosing to use his guitar again this week (WARNING to Jason: You are entering the Blake Lewis hocking zone. Don’t overkill your special talent too early.), Jason took the stage in JEANS and an untucked white shirt, those disgusting dreads splayed over his shoulders like tentacles – it looked like he had an octopus dangling off his head.

OK, on the record now – I don’t like dreadlocks. I just don’t. It’s a personal choice, my preference. They just always look dirty (and no, I don’t need a lesson on how clean they actually are), and resemble panty hose stuffed with dryer lint.

Jason started playing and singing Andy Gibb’s I Just Want To Be Your Everything (I owned that 45 - sigh), and despite the fact that I hate his coif, I found I enjoyed his performance again this week.

He has a strong, but sweet voice, and I love that he seems a tad vulnerable. It actually made me forget MYchael’s song.

Randy said that it was "all cool with the guitar" but that his "vocals weren’t great"; Paula called it a "clever choice of song", but to try it without a guitar next week; Simon was blunt as a spoon, calling the song choice "horrible, too schmaltzy", the vocals "very weak", and the performance "uncomfortable."

Up next was Lukelando Jackman, who revealed that he thinks his belonging to an a capella group for years (Chapter 6) has prepared him for American Idol. They chose to highlight him performing Bohemian Rhapsody with his group, not because it was great, but because it provided the perfect segue into his performance of Queen’s Killer Queen.

Risky song choice, but then I think that every time someone goes near Freddie Mercury territory. Freddie was one unique vocal talent, every note bathed not only in his signature sound, but dripping with his energy and showmanship (read: leave-nothing-to-the-imagination-unitard.)

Lukelando wasn’t wearing a unitard, even though I think he’d fill one out nicely.

Rather he chose JEANS and an untucked black shirt.

Now, obviously, he is not a true match for Freddie vocally, but I actually thought he held his own fairly well. He managed to stick pretty close to the original range of Mercury. My only true criticism is that he picked this song to begin with. I love Queen, but to the younger viewing demographic which, like it or not, makes up the largest slice of the pie chart, this was an unknown tune.

Bust out some ABBA or some Bee Gees? Then you might have a chance of keeping their attention. After all, the Bee Gees are iconic, and the A-Teens have covered just about every hit ABBA ever had.

Randy praised the "degree of difficulty" in choosing the song, and called his performance "pretty good"; Paula was generous with "it was a great week for you"; Simon was a wet rag, referring to the original and saying Lukelando "suffered by comparison" and that his performance was "theatrical verging on whiney."

Up next to continue his rock n roll quest for the Holy Wail, Robbie Carrico, who looked like Kate Hudson with a beard. I’m starting to think the knit caps might not be so bad.

His big secret? He is not only a ROCKER, he is a drag racer. The highlight reel included footage of him strapping on a helmet over a knit cap, and then talking of the safety to be practiced in the sport. You mean like drag racing with one headlight, Robbie?

Out on stage he worked JEANS (I hope they are getting a discount on denim, Buy 1,000 pair, get 1 free, perhaps?) and a white shirt. Of course he had the requisite rock reminders: leather cuffs and a wallet chain.

Singing Hot Blooded, I was left cold. I don’t care how much he wants to believe he is a rockstar, he lacks the raw connection, the throaty growl. His version was more Lukewarm Blooded.

Randy called him on it, saying, "I don’t know if rock is really, really your thing" and "It didn’t have enough Uhhhhh-Uhhhhng-UUUUUHHHHH (translation: constipated bowel movement?)". Finally, he said he "kept waiting to be wowed, but it nothing came out."

Like I said, constipation.

Paula warned him he "played it a little bit safe" and to "up the ante"; Simon said he thought "the vocal was OK tonight" and to not get so defensive.

Another break and Danny Ray Cyrus Alba (yes, I do see a little Hannah Montana around the edges) was up with his revelation. "America would be surprised to know I used to be in a punk rock band when I was in ninth grade."

Um, no, no we wouldn’t. I was not the least bit surprised, even when they popped up that picture of you in leopard spandex, Danny.

Choosing The Carpenters’ Superstar, he opted again for skinny JEANS, a white shirt, and my grandpa’s checkerboard cardigan.

It was a weak, weak start – he gets totally lost when he goes to his lower register. I was hoping he would open up and bust something out – even if it was just his buttcrack out of those uber-low skinnies – but nothing.

He sounded fine, but seemed more intent on staring down the camera lens the entire time.

I felt violated.

Randy said he "had problems with the vocal" and seemed to be "thinking while you were singing" (ok, I’ll cut him slack for that one. Um, 20 million people watching, what the hell is the next line?!? I’d be thinking too. In fact, I’d probably think so hard I’d need a new pair of pants and some Febreeze.)

Paula praised his "amazing vocal skill" and his "magical" vibratto; Simon conceded it was "better than last week" and added that Danny does "look terrific on camera."

Loved the little exchange where Danny agreed with Simon’s assessment of last week as a "disaster", but only so far as "ISH".

Yet another cleaning of the sponsor wallets brought us back to David Cardenas – sorry, Hernandez.

Fun fact: David is bendy. At least he used to be when he spent years in gymnastics as a kid. He can still do a "mean cartwheel."

Dressed in JEANS, a gray t-shirt, black hoodie, and a black blazer, he looked good. Keep growing the hair, David. You need a few more shingles on your roof.

Singing Papa Was A Rolling Stone, I was honestly blown away. Attitude, range, story telling, and when he harmonized with the back-up singers? Perfection. Seriously the best ending to a song yet.

Randy said "now THIS is the David Hernandez we fell in love with" (and yes, if he continues this way, I shall have to drop the Cardenas joke, and bequeath upon him a nickname all his own), and "that was HOT!"; Paula said he was "amazing" and "perfect": Simon kept it short, but oh so sweet with, "The best vocal of the night by far."

Probably not what Jason Le Pew Yeager wanted to hear right before he went out.

Jason’s big secret is that he can play the guitar, piano, and drums. (That’s nothing, Jason. Did you people know I can play the spoons? I know – WHOA.)

Singing the Doobie Brothers Long Train Runnin’ (Without Love), Jason was dressed in the only actual non-denim pants of the night, and a black shirt. Butt, I have to ask, did anyone else think boyfriend looks like he has some extra trunk junk?

Maybe it was the way he insisted on breaking every White Man Can’t Dance law, starting with the White Boy March at the microphone, the predictable White Man knee bounce, and ending with the hideous Only-Elvis-Could-Ever-Pull-It-Off-And-He-Was-Wearing-A-50-Pound-Rhinstone-Eagled-Cape when-he-did-it move: arms outstretched, knee slightly bent, bowing to the crowd.

Dear God, talk about empathetic embarrassment. It washed over me in waves. My hair actually fell. I cringed. My blood curdled in my veins. My sphincters all clinched.

Randy called it "pitchy" and "karaoke"; Paula said that while it was "fun to see this side of you" (the trunk junk side?), the song didn’t show his "vocal range"; Simon said, "last week was boring, this week is just awkward and ordinary, and that horrible ending?" He added the Taylor critHICKSism that the ending move made him look like he was "drunk at a party."

Ahhhhh, Chikezie, whose big revelation was that his name is Nigerian, meaning "something well created by God" and that it is actually pronounced Shik-AHHH-zuh.

Give it up, Chikezie. We are a simple bunch of people – in fact, one might call us Eze.

Ba dum dum.

Wow, what a difference a week makes. Chikezie went from a bright orange Pip suit last week to a full-on homage to a bad 80’s movie this week in JEANS, double polo shirts (lime green and sapphire blue, no less), and Long Duk Dong’s red tennis shoes.

Oh sexyyyy boyfriend...

And then he began to sing. Mind you, last week was the first time I had ever really heard him, so I was prepared to be underwhelmed all over again. But not so.

He ripped into I Believe with force, attitude (well, all the attitude a young man in red tennies and Crayola polos can muster), and some serious command of his vocal cords.

I loved it. Not just for the quality, but for the fact that he was so obviously enjoying himself.

Randy called him "blazing" and said, "Chikezie is back!"; Paula called him "brillant and fun"; Simon decided he will just call him Chi so as to avoid any future "Jacuzzi" mishaps, and said he "looked better, sounded better, a million times better than last week."

He then brought up the orange suit and asked, "Would you wear it again?"

Chikezie replied, "I wore it on TV – you can’t do it twice. Only YOU do that."

It’s official. Make me laugh and I’m all yours. I’m so Eze...

One note for Chi: Please grow some hair. You have a very disturbing roll of scalp fat – kinda like a love handle - on the back of your head. No one should have a muffin top over their collar.

Next up was David Cook, our resident bartender-rocker-who-favors-all-things-argyle. Only tonight he went much simpler in a black t-shirt, a 7 o’clock shadow (razors must have been off limits this week – the majority of the guys looked like they gave up shaving for Lent), and a poodle skirt.

OK, fine – he wore JEANS – but wouldn’t a poodle skirt have been a nice change of pace?

David’s big confession is that he is a self confessed "Word Nerd" – he loves crossword puzzles, word searches. Not exactly the edgiest hobby in the world, but I like knowing there’s a cerebellum in someone’s cranium.

Like Jason Dreads, he chose to use his guitar also, and worked it to great effect on All Right Now. And here is the difference between a real rocker and Robbie Carrico – you can tell it just comes naturally from David Cook. You can tell he feels it, believes it, it comfortable with it, and he has that I’m-gargling-gravel tone to his voice.

Randy said he is "our real rocker" (suck it, Robbie, you poseur); Paula said, "you are the real deal – you get it"; and Simon called him "solid", "believable", but that he doesn’t have "a lot of charisma."

One last break, and my daughters could finally breath. And breathe they did, sucking in a long one so that they could squeal like stuck pigs when Puppy Love’s face lit up the screen.

Now, the clip they showed with his revelation, that he had managed to do an impromptu performance of And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going for the Season 1 finalists (nothing like a 12 year old taking on Jennifer Holliday), is old news, at least around here. My daughters have scoured YouTube for every clip, snippet, performance, home video, and PR blurb about young Archuleta-me-have-a-you (his name according to Culley).

Still, it was sweet to watch Kelly Clarkson be blown away by the pint sized powerhouse back then.

On stage, he stood in a single spotlight, dressed in JEANS, a blue t-shirt, and a black leather jacket (insert teenage swooning here) to sing John Lennon’s Imagine.

Kendall is a purist, especially when it comes to the men who made up the Beatles, even more so when it comes to John, and regardless of how much she LOVES Puppy Love, she flatly stated, "Nobody should sing that song but John Lennon."

She added, "I still want him though."

(Culley, I’m not kidding, murmured, "I still have boobs." Ahhh, sisterly love.)

Oh, they did agree that they prefer his hair spiky, not Caesar-y.

As he sang, I had to admit, the kid is more than just cute, more than just adorably sweet. He is an accomplished vocalist. He demonstrated restraint, serious range, and controlled power – it was the true highlight of the show.

Randy called it "one of the best vocals I’ve ever heard on this show"; Paula, wiping away tears, rambled, "You are ridiculous. I just want to squish you, squeeze your head off and dangle you from my rearview mirror"...

Then she added it was "one of the most moving performances I’ve ever heard" and that he is "destined for superstardom."

Simon gave the highest praise of the evening: "You’re the one to beat, and there are 19 very miserable contestants here tonight."

For his part, Puppy Love was teary too. He is SO sweet. I hope that doesn’t start to wear thin. He seems truly tickled by everything.

They played the video recap of the performances, which was a good thing, because honestly? I had completely forgotten MYchael’s performance. Crikey.

And that’s it for Guy’s Night At The Disco – not too much polyester in this batch actually. My guesses for who won’t make it past the velvet rope Thursday night are David "Trunk Junk" Yeager, and either Lukelando Jackman or Robbie "Pocker" (Popster + Rocker) Carrico. They just didn’t make a mark tonight.

Tune in tomorrow night when the ladies work the disco ball. I’m predicting lots of Donna Summer, Dancing Queen, and Diana Ross.

Will we be able to say A Star Is Born? And who will be left pleading Don’t Leave Me This Way?

Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have some serious Night Fever (read: my eyes are burning and I need to sleep).

DGMS Blogmunity: Can YOU Walk The Walk?

I just received an email from DGMS regular, Shawn.

Sure, I get tips, links, news stories, etc, every day, and I use many of them.  Some I can't get to, some are duplicates of others, some are simply meant to make ME laugh.

But this one from Shawn is special.  It's no link to a local child abuse story - God knows there is no shortage of those.  It's not a webpage for another Multislacking Game with $^%^^%#! monkeys or ceiling fans or belly sledding penguins.

Rather, this one is about being inspired.  This one is about being personal.  This one is about saving lives.

You see, Shawn is joining in the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk later this year.  Shawn lost her mother to breast cancer nearly 20 years ago.  For Shawn, this is personal.  And while I have never lost a relative or friend to the disease,  I do have breasts, as do many of the people I care about in this world, ergo, it IS personal for me too. 

Shawn has set a goal of $5,000.  I have started her on her way this morning.  I would like to ask you, too, to visit her personal fundraising webpage on the official 3 Day site.

And if you can, please make a donation.  Whether it is $1, $5, $10, or $100 - every little bit will help - and you never know - it may indeed help YOU or ME down the road, should our breast health ever become compromised.

Payments plans exist, so you can split your credit card based donation into monthly payments, or you can do a one-time donation via credit card as well.   If you prefer to mail a donation, simply visit the webpage and download and print a donation form that you may mail in. You can also call 800-996-3DAY to donate over the phone.

Shawn is just getting started with her fundraising, but would like to reach her goal by September 30, 2008.

I know this little blogmunity of ours has a heart the size of my homestate of Texas, so let's come together to help Shawn honor her mother's memory (mammary?  Sorry Shawn, couldn't resist.) and help her reach her goal!

SHAWN'S 3 DAY WALK WEBPAGE

(I have added this article as a PAGE - look for the link to this piece under my photo - if you would like to DONATE after this piece has moved into the DGMS ARCHIVES.)

First Class? Um, NO CLass

By now, the fifteen minutes of Kyla Ebbert's fame - you remember her... the young lady who was removd from a Southwest Airlines flight last year, based on her choice of a cleavage baring top and a Britney baring bottom? - has supernovaed and burned out.

After making an international stink about the incident, appearing on numerous talk shows in the now infamous outfit (and giving Matt Lauer and the world a clear view up her bandaid-esque skirt), and being photographed for Playboy ONLINE - she was deemed not quite Playboy print publication worthy - the world has moved on, leaving Miss Kyla back in the coach seats of life's obscurity.

We moved on, Southwest Airlines flew on.

Well, SWA now finds itself back in the spotlight, dragged there by two bratty teenagers.

Meet BFFs Nisreen Swedberg and Sarah Williams.

Pretty girls, both.  But then you don't need me to tell you that.  Just ask them.

They are telling all who will listen that their removal from a Southwest Airlines flight on February 14 was because - get your hankie ready - they're ... sniff, sniff, boo, hoo ... too pretty.

“I think they were just discriminating against because we were young decent-looking girls. I mean, nobody else on the plane looked like us except us,” Williams said. “[The flight attendants] were like older ladies. We were younger. Who knows, they could have been just jealous of us because we were younger.”

Um, yeah.

It couldn't have had anything to do with the FACTS that they both acted like rude, spoiled, entitled, social misfits, now could it?

According to the airline and witnesses on the flight, Swedberg demanded a bottle of water as soon as she stepped on the plane.  She was asked by the flight attendant to wait until service began and everyone was being served.

You see, Nisreen, this is not a The Viper Room, or even a McDonalds drive-thru - it's an airplane with a bunch of other people boarding, AND a schedule to keep.

While in flight, Williams decided to use the bathroom, but also decided that she didn't like waiting - it was occupied.

So she began banging on the door.

When the passenger finally emerged, he had a few choice words for Miss I-Wanna-Cookie-Right-NOW!!!!.  She had some nice phrases laced with profanity for him.

At that point, the flight crew had had enough Miss Thang 1 and Thang 2, and when the plane landed in Los Angeles, the two were met by authorities, escorted from the plane and questioned for two hoursby FBI.

Now, that part might be a tad overkillish - after all, their behavior was more "terrible twos" than terrorist - but then again, perhaps a time out in an FBI playpen might be just what Dr. Spock ordered for two teenaged spoiled brats.

But back to the "we're too beautiful, boo hoo" speech.  Gee, I'm glad my mascara is waterproof, ladies.  The tears streaming down my face would surely have smeared it by now if it weren't.

Oh, those are tears of laughter, by the way, not sympathy.

Our two oldest daughters, who are not exactly pains in the corneas, have flown on their own several times, and at no point have they ever felt disciminated against, ignored, or perseCUTEd.

Oh, but then, they know the definitions of decorum, personal responsibility, propriety, politeness, character, and that age old axiom:  Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

Translation:  They know how to wait their turn to pee, and both use Please and Thank you on a regular basis.

They may not fly first class, but they fly with class.

And that's not something you can buy at Claire's, Forever 21, or Wet Seal, Nisreen & Sarah.

An Afternoon Thought...

Just got back from a lovely lunch with a good friend of mine - she and her husband have three daughters, like Rudy and I, and as fate would plan it, their oldest plays on Kendall's soccer team, and their middle daughter plays select with Carson.

As we were draining the first of two-a-piece Margaritas (I tried the Chambord variety - trust me on this, if you see it on a menu, GET IT.), the subject of my family's current dynamic came up.

Now, if you haven't gathered by now, much time is spent on the sidelines of any number of soccer fields.  We parents are a tight bunch.  (Well, most of us are.  Some parents are just "tight assed" and need to loosen up a tad)  We talk.  We know what's going on in one another's lives.  Etc, etc, etc.

Well, apparently, my marital status is of great concern.

Oooooo, Rudy's gone.  We never see him.  Seattle.  Ooooo.  And of course, Is Linda OK?

For her part, my friend has never once wondered about there being more to the story of his departure than what we told everyone. 

Because she knows us better, I guess.  And because there's nothing more to tell.

He got a great job offer.  Tons more money.  We have two daughters barreling towards college.  And we are currenlty loathe to upset the apple cart of their personal lives by immediately moving.

While I find it heartwarming (I really do) that so many people are personally worried about my monthly sperm intake, I also find it amusing.

This is OUR normal.  This is the SIXTH time we have done the him-there, her-here gig.  It is not great, it is not ideal, but it certainly is not devastating to me (or the girls) personally, much less some sort of barometer on the state of our marriage.

Anyway, it got me to thinking.  Just how odd do you people find it?  Please factor in if you've never moved in your life, have never been away from your spouse for more than a weekend, etc.

I swear I'm not made of stone.  I Do miss him, and I DO count the days down till he comes back each month.  (The girls are THRILLED he will be back for Culley's pageant, AND get to catch FOUR soccer games this coming weekend.)  But it's OK - because he IS coming back each month.

And honestly - have I ever struck you as the type of person who can't take out her own garbage once a week?

(Damn, that Chambord Margarita was good... I'm taking Rudy there this weekend in between soccer games!)