I am really embarrassed to be doing this. I thought that I could just leave her alone, that she would slip on past without requiring any further mentioning. But, she’s done it again. This past week on American Idol, Paula Abdul commented or “judged” a performance that hadn’t happened yet. We were down to the five remaining Idols performing Neil Diamond songs. They each performed two songs. The Idols would all sing their first song without any individual judging. Then the judges were to comment on all five of the performers’ first songs at the same time, sort of a quick overview of their opinions for all five (normally, they comment after each individual’s performance).
Evidently, the change was a little too much for Paula Abdul. She started in her usual drugged-up way, lots of rambling about nothing, telling the performers that they were in “the zone” or that they had found “the pocket.” What? Anyway, she commented on Jason Castro’s first song. Fine. And then she proceeded to comment on how she felt about his second song, how it didn’t quite “do it for her” or something. Now, I usually tune out when she speaks and had to tune back in to catch what she was mumbling. The problem was that Jason Castro hadn’t sung his second song yet.
Now, it’s common knowledge that the judges listen to the dress rehearsal performances. And, so, they have often heard the songs before the LIVE! performance. So, Paula had heard the second song. Whatever. I don’t believe that Paula actually thinks about what she says, though. What’s funny to me is that after Randy reminded her that they’ve only sung the first song, she tried to play dumb. Now, watching Paula Abdul try to “play dumb” would be like watching George W. try to poke fun at someone who has poor “grammar skills.” You can’t be dumb and “play dumb.” She said, “Oh, I thought that he had already sung his second song.” Then followed with, “This is hard.”
Really? What part of telling singers–who have much better vocal skills than her–how to sing, or rather, how to find “the zone” is hard? If you remember, back toward the beginning of the season, Paula released her new ‘comeback’ single, “Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow.” I found it very interesting that she didn’t even perform the song on the show. They just played the video. I guess she was trying not to “outsing” the Idol performers. That’s commendable, Paula, because that would be truly difficult, trying to “find your zone” and just be “in that pocket where you are at your best.”
I’m sorry if I come across as being a little too anti-Paula. I’m actually very pro-Paula. I seriously hope that she continues providing us with such an abundance of humorous material. I’m confident that she will. And, when she does, remember, that she forced me to do this.
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I thought it would be fun to review another great moment in Paula history, the infamous “Paula Abdul Drunk Interview.” Enjoy…
Posted in Humor, Pop-Culture, TV, Video
Ok, so I am about to acknowledge another lapse in my education as a proper gay man. I am 34 years old and just saw, for the first time, West Side Story. Jeff and I were on a nice Sunday afternoon walk when we noticed that it was playing at the Castro Theater. So, we decided to crawl in, as it was just starting, and catch the film on the big screen of a historic theater (if you’re going to see it, you might as well see it like that, huh?).
Well, of course, Jeff had seen the movie version numerous times and as he proudly puts it, “I am one of the few that can say, ‘I was both a Shark and a Jet.'” Oh yes, that’s right, for one very special summer stock type of performance they painted my dear Jeff’s face to look Puerto Rican. Although, they did that in the movie, too. Baaaaaad make-up. But, gooooooood dance fighting!
I am going to go out on a limb here and just make a sweeping statement that could possibly affect the lives of every man, woman, and child on the planet. Prepare ye for this great revelation…it’s coming…it’s coming. If we would arm ourselves with dance belts, a good solid pair of dance shoes, a tube of ChapStick®, and the choreography of Jerome Robbins, and fight like real men, this world might have a good chance. I mean seriously, have you ever seen dance fighting? It is one of the best things I have ever seen. The only thing that kept me from having a full-out giggle fit was the appreciatively nodding, serious movie patrons surrounding me. To them it was some of the best choreography ever created. To me it was the answer to the question, how do we achieve world peace. Answer: one dance fight at a time.
The single best thing about dance fighting is that you never really even touch the other person. It’s very physical, but it’s all interpretive. Lots of high kicks and theatrical rolls. All this said, actually my favorite scene was after the rumble, where they are trying to “cool” down. It contains some of the “coolest” choreography. Here are the lyrics to the song…
——
Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Get cool, boy!
Got a rocket in your pocket,
Keep coolly cool, boy!
Don’t get hot,
‘Cause man, you got
Some high times ahead.
Take it slow and Daddy-O,
You can live it up and die in bed!
Boy, boy, crazy boy!
Stay loose, boy!
Breeze it, buzz it, easy does it.
Turn off the juice, boy!
Go man, go,
But not like a yo-yo schoolboy.
Just play it cool, boy,
Real cool!
Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
——
Right. So, slightly homo-erotic, huh? Rocket in your pocket? Seriously. I about busted my gut. Which, reminds me. The only part of the movie that my fellow serious movie-going gays laughed at “inappropriately” was during one scene when Maria says to Tony, “Oh, and Tony, when you come, be sure and come in the rear.” There was a whole lot of snickering going on. You have to love old movies that cannot be watched seriously because almost every term or word has new meaning in our present society. Words and terms like “gay” and “come in the rear.”
I know that this makes me a bad gay. Making fun of West Side Story puts me on seriously dangerous ground. And, I hope that I don’t create a division in the gay community. But, if I do, we’ll just have a dance-off. You heard it here first, folks. I challenge all ye who think my joking isn’t funny to a dance-off. Castro Street, Midnight, bring your gear (don’t forget your tube of ChapStick®) and leave your chains, knives, and rocks at home.
Oh, what the hell, here’s the “Cool” video:
Yesterday, Jeff and I made ourselves sick with the amount of TV we watched. I hate when that happens. I just didn’t know when to quit. I think this is how Jeff put it: “I feel gross.” And frankly, I did too. I think what really pushed it over the edge was watching Miss America…Live!, the culmination of a 4-week Miss America reality show and 2-hour re-creation of the Miss America Pageant.
Let me start by saying that I love beauty pageants. I grew up watching the Miss America pageant. And, I loved every minute of it’s plastic glory. I dreamed of saying:
“I’m Tyler Lee, a 5th grader majoring in music, and proud to be from Pleasantville, IOWA, the town where the name says it all and the state where the corn is tall! And, I want to be your next Miss America!”
I would sit in overly-eager anticipation waiting for the real Miss Iowa to take her turn at the microphone. I would sit and think, “Now she has a chance!” And, every year the title would go to some bimbo from Oklahoma or Texas or California. Oh, Miss Iowa often made it to the final 10, but the crown would inevitably go to someone who could sing “opera” or play the “violin,” never to Miss Iowa, who could only juggle flaming ears of corn. Have you ever juggled flaming ears of corn?
I didn’t think so.
And, I wasn’t disappointed last night to see that Miss Iowa was just as plastic as always–even after the 4-week reality series that was aimed at teaching the contestants how to be more real. I knew it would never work. Miss Iowa wouldn’t crack. She was totally a Stepford Wife. Minus the husband, of course. And, she was a finalist. But, alas, she didn’t win. But, she could have, if they hadn’t made this ridiculous push to make the contestants “real.”
I guess “real” to whomever runs the pageant means that girls wear jeans and tank tops, and that they are allowed to do their best stripper walk during the swimsuit competition. I kept on waiting for someone to drop it like it’s hot. Oh yeah, we also got to hear why they chose their evening gowns. Which, just made them seem more annoying and less worthy of the title Miss America.
I think what I always loved about the pageant as a kid was the fact that they didn’t quite seem real. I think that they called it “poised.” I would sit and wait for someone to mess up or trip or stutter. Then, I would think…Amateur. But, those days are gone. They’re all amateur. Except for good ol’ Miss Iowa. Tough as nails, nothing could wipe that smile off her face.
Here’s a great clip from the 80s. Do you remember when they would actually sing the opening song? This has everything that was great about the pageant…
Posted in Gay, Humor, My Life, The Early Years, TV, Video, YouTube Clips
I’ve been living in the bay area for close to five years. And, I’ve only felt two earthquakes. One was so subtle that I thought that I was just dizzy (that, too, happens on occasion…). Last night, though, I thought it was the “big one.” My first thought was that something had exploded. It started with a big jolt. I actually saw the walls of my apartment shake. Then I watched the TV stand, lamp and all 9 of my chirren sway back and forth.
In light of my last post, I would like to distract you for a moment. If you haven’t taken the time to meet my 9 children, please do so. Here’s the video. They’ve been begging me to make another video. So, I probably will do that soon. They had so much fun during the first one.
Anyway, back to the earthquake. The shaking went on for about 20 seconds. For those of us who come from parts of the world where the only shaking going on involves deranged drunken parents and their children, it is an unsettling experience. My first instinct was that I needed to get out of the house. My second instinct was that I should put on some shoes. Wait, I should take my cell phone. And, my Mac. I should probably turn the lights off to save electricity…
Ok, let’s just say that–keep in mind, I’m a flight attendant who has been repeatedly trained to evacuate an aircraft with the command: “LEAVE EVERYTHING!”–well, let’s just say that I failed. Now, I have to give myself some credit, the earthquake wasn’t actually as big as the initial jolt made it feel. It was only a 5.6 on the Richter Scale. And, it was centered over 50 miles away.
But, it got me thinking. I’m the one who forced Jeff (who experienced the 1989 earthquake) to agree to my earthquake emergency plan, complete with meeting places in various locations. I should be able to handle the most important step: Get out of the house.
At least I didn’t run out screaming “I don’t want to die!” only to discover I was half-naked and that half of the population didn’t even feel the quake.
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