A walk down ‘Idol’ lane

 

[Photo courtesy of L.A. Times]

I vowed not to watch another season of American Idol, but here I am, the end of May, having plowed through another season. I wasn’t planning to watch this year, but as the weeks went on, I figured I needed something to compare Season Seven to, so I began to dutifully watch Season Eight.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I was and am a David Archuleta fan through and through. And everyone knows he “lost” last year.

This year, Kris Allen, who, everyone knows, “won” this year, caught my eye.  But not in the way that Archuleta had.

I had and have very little emotional attachment to Kris Allen. I did not vote for most of the season, but threw in twelve votes in the final round. Because I did not want his loss to be a landslide as it had been when Archuleta lost to Cook last year.

This is all to say that I qualify as “one of those blind, deaf people who voted for Kris.” (And the many more biting comments that have been made about Kris fans.)

But hear my story before you judge. I am very, very, very tired of being marginalized as a conservative Christian, likely from the South, with no taste in music.

First things first: I prefer pop music. I like Jason Mrazy type stuff, and Kris Allen immediately pinged in my ear as Jason Mrazy. This must not come as a surprise, as I preferred David Archuleta to David Cook. This should also not come as a surprise, as I watch the show American Idol. That said, I have nothing against Adam Lambert, not in the least bit (okay, the tongue thing was a little weird). He was, by all counts, much more attractive, much more vocally talented and had much more stage presence. But his musical style just wasn’t my cup of tea.

The reasons I voted for Kris and not Adam had nothing to do with his sexuality. I am a liberal, for the most part an atheist, born-and-raised New York (City)er who just prefers a more laidback sound. I went to an all-girls college and hung out with the lesbian crowd for a good part of my senior year. (That might explain my penchant for a more folksy style of music, eh?)

Entertainment Weekly journalist Whitney Pastorek says it best:

“Adam Lambert was never going to win this show, but I don’t think it had anything to do with platform boots or flaming bombast or some vast red state/Mormon/hillbilly/Miss California conspiracy. I think it had more to do with the fact that the sort of people who would be inclined to like Adam Lambert are not as inclined to watch this show as the sort of people who would be inclined to like Kris Allen.”

Now, being a David Archuleta fan, the Season Eight finale was particularly strange for me. There I was, fully expecting Adam to win, and there I was, mouth wide-open, wondering how the hell it was Kris who had won. The victory didn’t feel so good. Especially after I started reading message boards and all the hateful messages towards those who voted for Kris.  I was made to feel almost guilty for having voted for Kris because, apparently, I was making a statement about my views on homosexuality.  

No.

I truly believed Adam Lambert was going to win. I think Adam Lambert should have won. Vocally, he is more talented. He, again, has more stage presence. He has “it”.

My co-worker, an Adam fan, was “pissed” at Kris’ stunned reaction. “He didn’t act like he wanted to win, or believed he would. If you don’t believe in yourself, you don’t deserve to win.”

What?

I love my co-worker, but … did anyone think Kris would truly win?

I was so, so disappointed David Archuleta lost last year, but here I found myself a year later, on the opposite side of the fence. But the fence didn’t seem so high or wide as it had a year before. It was completely apparent to me that Adam would go on to sell many more records than Kris would, and that Kris’ victory was little more than a coronation — a going through of motions — with very little true meaning behind it.

So I guess I succeeded, when I began watching Season Eight, in finding something to compare Season Seven to. I now know what it is like to stand on either side of the fence, and frankly, the view really isn’t all that different.

I know I can’t speak for all Kris Allen fans (or even most of them), but that’s my story. Angry Adam Lambert fans, please consider the fact that not every person who voted for Kris is homophobic. And in the end, as I have learned from past “losses”, it really doesn’t matter. It’s just an imaginary crown, a stupid coronation song. The true winner(s) will prove himself in his success after American Idol.

P.S. David Cook sounded the best he’s ever sounded on Wednesday night. I’m buying the performance from iTunes.

Say it isn’t so …

I had planned to comment on other things today, but it seems Heath Ledger is the name on most people’s lips … including mine.I don’t have much to add, except that I’m still flabbergasted.

I found out as I rode the elevator, heading home tonight: CNN: Heath Ledger dead … reports NYPD. I looked away after I finished reading the severed sentence — customary elevator behavior. But I had to look again: was it true? Did I miss February and March and was it April Fool’s?

I’ve never been a huge fan of Heath Ledger, but I’d have been the first to admit that he was one of the few young actors who actually had some acting chops. And he was so young.

I haven’t been this shocked by a celebrity’s death since, well, she’s not exactly a celebrity, but when I was 9 or 10, this 7-year old girl by the name of Jessica and her father made the rounds on early morning TV to promote her first flight as a pilot, which would’ve made her the youngest pilot ever. Two days after seeing her on Good Morning America, she and her father were gone. That was the first time I realized how quickly things could change and how ephemeral life really was.

And strangely enough, this is exactly how I feel about Heath Ledger’s passing. Things seemed to be going so well for him: he was a respected actor, had a darling two-year-old daughter, and was rumored to be back on the dating scene again.

I know I’m being naive, but I’d much rather hear that he’d died of natural causes (he was said to have suffered a bout of pneumonia recently) or been murdered than he’d taken his own life. It would give me the peace of mind that I don’t have the right to claim.

Cheap Eats in NYC

Still recovering from the financial setbacks of a college education, I’ve spent the past four months dipping into the great pool of cheap eats in New York City. Here are the five best I’ve happened upon thus far:

5. Alice’s Tea Cup
www.alicesteacup.com for locations
I was hesitant to try this place at first, after having read that Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen cited it as one of their NYC haunts (alongside the mostly deplorable Serendipity 3). But a craving for some esoteric tea and true British scones could not be sated, and I was formally introduced to Alice’s incomparable pumpkin scones. For $9, a pot of tea (3-4 cups) and two rich scones are yours. Sounds like a good meal to me, anytime.

There are now three locations in New York City, but my favorite is the East Side location.

4. Dallas BBQ
www.dallasbbq.com for locations
This might sound like a joke, but I’m serious. The fries are great, the ribs are as good they come, and the drinks are HUGE. Come hungry, leave tipsy!

3. Mitali
334 E 6th Street, between 1st and 2nd Avenue

The décor’s a little off, but this place offers the best Indian I’ve ever had. I highly recommend the Aloo Motor Gobi. And their alcoholic beverages come complete with corny, euphemistic names like “nectar” and “love”.

2. Grotta del Mare
307 E 77th Street, between 1st and 2nd Avenue

This one’s a hidden gem. For a little over $20, you can have yourself an intimate and romantic three-course meal. Try everything, including going in the summertime when you can sit outside and people-watch.

1. Café Gitane
242 Mott Street, between Prince and Houston

Okay, so I obviously missed out on the days it was the place hipsters flocked to, but I’m kind of glad. This French-Moroccan place has an amazing couscous platter and chicken sandwich. I can’t imagine that anything here would be anything but heavenly. Apparently Gisele Bundchen still pops in every once in a while, and it still draws a steady stream of models and artsy clientele. If you find beautiful women to be a turnoff, don’t let them stop you — for once, those hipsters got it right.

Bloomin’ Babies!

If “preggers” was the word on everyone’s mind in 2007’s Hollywood, “poppin’” might be the one in 2008. In the two weeks since we turned the page, two young pop icons have popped out two young’uns, and at least two others have announced that they are going to reproduce in the coming year.

Here’s my completely non-comprehensive list. Feel free to add on:

Birthed:
- Max Liron Bratman – Christina Aguilera and Jordan Bratman
- Harlow Winter Kate Madden – Nicole Richie and Joel Madden

Still floating in amniotic fluid:
- Baby Spears III – Jamie-Lynn Spears and Casey Aldridge or Creepy Old Executive
- Baby Anthony I and II – Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony
- Baby Upton III – Cate Blanchett and Andrew Upton
- Baby Aubry – Halle Berry and Gabriel Aubry
- Baby Urban – Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban
- Baby McConaughey – Camila Alves and Matthew McConaughey

Rumors are circulating that Avril Lavigne is spawning, although she has slammed those down quicker than a flyswatter to a mosquito. But isn’t that how most pregnancy announcements start out?

Parents too embarrassed to acknowledge his/her existence:
- Baby Whibley – Avril Lavigne and Deryck Whibley
- Baby Jolie-Pitt CXII – Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt
- Baby Parker – Eva Longoria and Tony Parker
- Baby Duhamel – Stacy “Fergie” Ferguson and Josh Duhamel (oh God, please let this be true!)
- Baby Ghalib – Britney Spears and Adnan Ghalib
- Baby (Goliath) Martin III – Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin

Imagine all these kids (minus Baby Spears III) going to school together … and then spawning again, when they grow up to be high school sweethearts. Gene selection at its best – this time minus Max Bratman, Harlow Madden and Baby Whibley.

Announcements are usually made in the third or fourth month. This is January 16th. That gives Hollywood another five-and-a-half months to get knocked up in time for The Crossroads School’s Class of 2026. Jesus.

The Sorbitol Diet

On Friday, news spread about an article published in the past week’s “British Medical Journal” on sorbitol, the artificial sweetener. Sorbitol is the latest and greatest artificial sweetener found in gum, most notably Orbit and Eclipse. Apparently there have been two cases of excessive weight loss (following chronic diarrhea and abdominal pain, natch) in sugar-free gum chain-chewers.

A 21-year-old woman chewed a mere fifteen to eighteen sticks of the stuff a day before noticing its effects. The other, a 46-year-old man, was chewing 20 sticks a day. Their doctors found that as soon as they had stopped chewing the sorbitol-infested gum, symptoms subsided and normal weight was achieved.

Not to endorse or provoke it or anything, but anyone else think this is going to be the new underground diet fad? À la Mary-Kate Olsen’s supposed Starbucks (but really cocaine) diet?

Goodbye, Gossip Girl

I don’t watch Gossip Girl for a peek of the ‘hood in which I spent my adolescence, not for the wholesome beauty that is Leighton Meester, not for the mousy one that is Blake “Blair sounds too much like Blake” Lively, and not for the attractive Abercombie & Fitch models-cum-Upper East Siders (or, in the case of one Dan Humphrey, DUMBOer). No, I watch it for its lavish disregard for all the fundamental laws of reality, and for the bash at NY Mag the morning after.

Seriously, there is nothing I look forward to more during the work week – other than the countdown to 5:30pm on Friday afternoon – than sitting down at my desk on Thursday morning and loading the front page of NYMag.com.

Except the Writer’s Strike has gotten into the way and no longer will I be able to sit down on Thursday mornings, pregnant with anticipation on what the anonymous (or partially-so … I have gathered that at least one is female, and one has a gay friend named Chris) bloggers thought of the previous night’s episode. I have, also, time and again thought to pen my own commentary, but nothing could ever be so sweet as the NY Mag bloggers’ words. That much I know.

But we have come to the end of some sort of era and I think the NY Mag bloggers have overlooked a few egregiously obvious “facts”:

- Poor little Jenny Humphrey’s face has grown more and more distorted over the course of the series. Her visage in the season finale is one step away from Munch’s “The Scream.” Is it the mere act of puberty, or is it a foretelling tip of the hat to “The Picture of Dorian Gray”?

- They think there’s something going on between Chuck and Nate – that I will not deny. But as several IMDB posters and slash writers (yes, very well-informed sources, I know) have hinted, there may be some homosexual underpinnings between Blair and Serena. Last night, Serena’s heroic rescue of Blair at the heliport made it hazily clear to me that if the producers of the show wanted to ever swing that way, they’ve paved the path.

- Um, Eric van der Woodsen? Ew. Finally, Serena acknowledged his unruly and unattractive hair in last night’s episode. Blond or brown, it’s not working. Neither is his Dracula-esque complexion. He’s not “sick” anymore! Get him into a Mystique booth stat or get him off the show! It wouldn’t too far-fetched to have him die of a drug overdose.

- The complete disregard for how girls on the Upper East Side actually dress. I know it’s a television show and even though it’s set in New York City, it’s still Hollywood, etc etc. But still – where are the North Face jackets, rainbows of Ralph Lauren polo shirts and moccasins? The Upper East Side is not so different from Fairfield County in Connecticut. All the WASPs of New England flock to the UES while still being able to tell everyone that they’re getting the “real New York experience”.

- Lastly, all of this would not be possible without Cecily zon Wierasdlfsafzsegger’s original series “Gossip Girl”. I have not (thank god) read a single one of these books, but I will assume that Josh Schwartz and his minions wouldn’t really stray that far off the course. Right? If we really wanted to know what happens next, we’d take a peek into one of the very many candy-colored paperbacks, right? Guess we don’t really care all that much afterall.

XOXO

Class of 2007, the playlist

My posts have mostly been making me sound like I have a stick up my ass, so today’s entry is just lighthearted nonsense. Imeem.com has been publishing celebrities’ favorite songs of 2007. I’m no celebrity, but here are some songs that I think defined 2007:

[Photo courtesy of bethelwholesale.com]

10. “Umbrella”, Rihanna
Okay, no one actually likes this song but it’s become some sort of pop culture phenomenon, with everyone from Mandy Moore and Dashboard Confessional covering it. It even launched Marié Digby’s career. I still don’t know what the big deal is, but if any song were to win the Class of 2007 award, it’s actually my personal number ten, “Umbrella (ella ella eh eh eh)”.

Superlative: Most likely to spawn a hike in umbrella-shaped earrings sales

9. “Give It To Me”, Timbaland ft. Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado
The Club Song. The Song Whose Name I Never Remember but The Song I Will Never Forget.

Superlative: Most likely to make petite Asian girls think they’ve got street cred.

8. “Say It Right”, Nelly Furtado
There’s no explaining this one. It’s just like the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way.” It makes little sense, but it’s addictive.

Superlative: Most likely to provoke girl-on-girl dancing. Or maybe it’s just because I went to a women’s college.

7. “This Is Why I’m Hot”, MIMS
No one can deny the brilliance of this song and the ingenuity of its lyrics: “I’m hot ‘cause I’m fly, you ain’t ‘cause you not. This is why, this is why, this is why I’m hot.”

Superlative: Sexiest opening bars, if you can call that pulsing beat music.

6. “Don’t Matter”, Akon
Romantic, yes, but secretly the most LGBT-sympathetic song of the year. I mean … “how much of a queen you are to me”? Come on.

Superlative: Most difficult song to dance to at the club when flyin’ solo

5. “Here In Your Arms”, Hellogoodbye
For the head-bopping, arm-raising white boy in all of us.

Superlative: Most WASPy song lyric (“Hello, I miss you quite terribly”)

4. “The Sweet Escape”, Gwen Stefani ft. Akon
It took me two months of dancing to this two times a week to figure out what she was saying about the refrigerator. And when I did, it was euphoric.

Superlative: Most likely to prompt ridiculous dancing. And possibly a “Sweet Escape” Dance.

3. “Buy U A Drank”, T-Pain
Nothing screams early summer angst like the oohing and aahing of T-Pain.

Superlative: Best song to proclaim love of a member of the same sex to. Because you’d get bitch slapped any other way.

2. “Glamorous”, Fergie
Any song that introduces ghetto vocabulary into the American mainstream while still teaching me how to spell and telling me to get my “broke ass home” is awesome in my book.

Superlative: Most likely to provoke intellectual conversation and debate over whether she’s saying “flossy flossy” or “flouncy flouncy.” Apparently we were too preppy to understand.

1. “Cupid’s Chokehold”, Gym Class Heroes
If lyrics like “… she even cooks me pancakes and Alka Seltzer when my tummy aches” ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is.

Superlative: Best expression of vocal ability with use of the words “ba da da da”. I still can’t get the pitch right when I’m sober.

Final verdict: I spent a lot of time dancing with girls in the first half of 2007.

On Hillary

A couple of my friends will have my throat slashed for saying this, but I can’t help but question Hillary Clinton’s motives behind the teary-eyed sincerity she displayed at a campaign stop on Monday.

This is the woman who allegedly planted people in Barack Obama’s Q&A sessions. This is the woman who mixed male students in with female students on the stage behind her at the launch of Hillblazers at her all-women alma mater, Wellesley College. Though, to be fair, it wouldn’t seem appropriate to have only female students present, but she could’ve had her pick of college venues.

Maybe the question I should be asking isn’t whether Clinton’s tears were untrue, but what the behavior will do for or against her. It is my belief that it will draw the sympathies of female voters and disgust or, at the very least, repel male voters, who will deem her unsuitably emotional for presidency.

As desperation lurks, there is very little she can do to make herself look all that much better. Perhaps she is pulling the plugs, one by one, in an attempt to capture someone – anyone’s vote. I don’t know whether to laugh at her or laud her for it. Her tenacity to win is there, be it through combative or sentimental means. And in the game of politics, does it really matter so much how good and honest a person is as much as how well he or she will get the job done?

Arriving: Eventually

[Photo courtesy of jovovich-hawk.com, from their Spring 2008 Collection]

In an uncharacteristic turn, Target’s Go International is keeping mum about its next designer, who fashion aficionados know – and have known for upwards of four months – to be the design team Jovovich-Hawk. In the past year or so, Target has lined its designers back-to-back, with arrivals and departures within days of one another. Erin Fetherstone’s disappointing collection departed on January 5th, and still, there has been no official word or press release from Target, never mind the sneak peeks of outfits.

Word has it that Target wants to make the Jovovich-Hawk debut at New York’s Olympus Fashion Week in early February.

Jovovich has said, “Our Target line will have all our classic pieces: smock dresses, tunics, minis, all vintage-inspired, great prints. We took the things that sold the best for us but we’re doing it on a bigger scale.”

Whatever the reason, throw the dog a damn bone already! Or could it be that Target’s bottomless well of designers is beginning to run dry?

The Jovovich-Hawk line is set to “arrive” at Target stores nationwide in March.

TV Running Dry

[Photo courtesy of NYmag.com]

Leno and Conan chose a good time to return to their posts in late night television; television is gradually running out. The first casualties of the writer’s strike were Women’s Murder Club last Friday (a huge loss?), Desperate Housewives yesterday and Gossip Girl tomorrow – followed by more favorites: CSI, Grey’s Anatomy, 30 Rock and My Name is Earl later in the week. Can I just take a minute out to laugh at Cashmere Mafia and how it is basically going on hiatus a month-and-a-half in?

I’ve been doing some thinking about alternative forms of entertainment. It really depends on how desperate you become, because there’s always reality television. Too bad the staged MTV reality shows just all drew to a close (Newport Harbor, The Hills and even A Shot At Love with Tila Tequila) — The Real World: Sydney is still around for a little while, and Life of Ryan is starting up again, if you’re into mop-headed seventeen-year-old skater boys (I am, I’ll admit). And all those faux-educational reality shows on FOX and ABC — Nanny 911 and Wife Swap! (Did you see the season opener of Wife Swap with the borderline emotionally-abusive misogynist?!)

Then there’s the buzz surrounding the caucuses and primaries, which primetime news and various other news journals will be following closely. There’s no better time to become informed than in 2008 as we all come together to find a president who will actually do his or her job, and do it well. Ish.

And of course there’s the stuff we used to do before we had any of these shows to devote ourselves to … read a book, pop in a movie, go out with friends (ones we don’t have parasocial relationships with), surf the internet … or watch reruns of Full House. Or maybe it’s just a chance for us to become intimate with a show we wouldn’t typically have thought to watch.

On the plus side … does this mean we won’t have to watch reruns this summer? And will the strike affect the Food Network?

For the full list of when your favorite shows will be running out of fresh episodes, read on …