Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Simon says...that I could not come up with a better title.

Dilemma. Simon Cowell on Oprah. I hate Oprah. (Ohmygosh! Did I type that out loud? If I suddenly disappear off the face of the Earth, understand that she is extraordinarily powerful and from what I understand, not a fan of those who oppose her.) I find her to have no credibility. She could have a guest on her show whose entire life is crumbling around them and while they are telling their devastating story, she is dispassionately gazing off into the distance, probably calculating how much money she is earning in the time this person is jabbering on. She never seems to react to anything unless the camera is on her. I do have to give her credit for getting rid of those light colored contacts. They made her look psychotic. (hmmm….) So, she’s got Simon Cowell on her show. It’s weird this crush I have on him. I think it is more of an intrigue than a crush. (I am pretty sure it is situational. All the people on American Idol are ugly.)
He winked at Oprah. I like that. It’s charming. He has pretty nice teeth, for a Brit. AND he only cares what puppies think of him. Puppies! Hello! Of course I am crushing on him. (Totally stole that from “Never Been Kissed”. Great movie. I may be the cheesiest person alive.)
He is completely charismatic on Oprah’s show. Is it because the audience is entirely female? (Would any straight guy willfully attend a taping?) But why did the audience cheer and applaud when he said that Paula Abdul called him a bad name? Are they glad he was called a bad name? AND he mentioned his girlfriend. Whaaaat?!? (Stalker alert!) I read somewhere’s that they broke up. (See, this information messes with my ability to use proper grammar…) At least he is not dating Paula Abdul. I can’t quite grasp why she freaks me out. Maybe it is because she reminds me of these crazy llamas I once saw when a group of my friends and I rented a cabin in the mountains a few years ago. They stood there and stared at us. “Quit looking at me, llama!” (And in Germany, a llama spat at me. I ducked. Nasty.) Simon did try to tell Oprah that Paula has the hots for him. She told him to look her in the eye and tell her that. It’s strangely hot to see Simon look deep into Oprah’s eyes and say “She wants me.” (Seriously, what is wrong with me?)
Simon Cowell came onto Oprah’s show to debut his new popera group “Il Divo”. The male divas??? For real. Pop/opera. They sang Toni Braxton’s “Unbreak My Heart” in Spanish, I believe. There is nothing like mass vibrato to knock you from your chair while you watch completely creeped out as these four boys grin slimily at the camera. They miss the whole point of the song. Geez! Must be related to Nadia Turner. (American Idol, baby!)
No, Il Divo, I do not want you to look so lecherous. Gross. I do not want Popera. (And Simon Cowell’s credibility was shot in one fell swoop.)I do want Simon to get a haircut and invest in a mansierre, or perhaps a bro. (If you don’t know what I am talking about, you are hopelessly pop-culture irreverent and should be ashamed of yourself.) And I want to see someone fall off of those insanely high chairs that Oprah has two of in the middle of an empty stage for herself and her guest to sit on. (Maybe it could be Oprah?) (Hey, maybe it was not a popera group, but rather a POprah group. Everybody wants to be Oprah’s friend. Except me.)


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