Too bad Ms. Lopez got winded climbing the stairs to the ring.
I haven't paid attention to her career, since I prefer performers with talent, but answer one question for me: were you all chattering incessantly about her ass to distract us from her chunky thighs? Yeah, like shorts made out of the lint from Tom Ford's dryer will distract from those monsters. On my cheap flat-screen TV her thighs looked like Three Mile Island, except occasionally something entertaining happens there.
As for her dancing, well, it looks like she learned everything she knows from Britney's "What, am I actually on stage now?" routine. And then she fell. God, if she'd actually been trying to dance at the time, she'd have wiped out the auditorium. This morning there'd be nobody left but the Jonas Brothers and Taylor Swift.
Toward the end of the song JLo wandered into the crowd and passed hubby Marc Antony, and you could see him mentally rehearsing what he was going to say when they got home: "Honey, I told you from the beginning it was a crap idea."
Naturally, Adam Lambert stole the show. Good song, provocative performance. A friend called me this morning and said she thought it was "hectic," but I'm guessing she never went to a movie where, two minutes in, half the audience got bored and pulled out their BlackBerries.
I'm listening to his record this morning and it's actually pretty great. Mostly it sounds like Queen, but it veers toward Lady Gaga and occasionally Poison. A Loaded Smile is beautiful. Soaked is a great power ballad that sounds like the best thing k. d. lang's done in thirty years.
Needless to say, the New York Times is pissed off this morning because Lambert sings to the indefinite pronoun "You." That's right, the Times -- the paper that called gay sex "buggery" until, like, two weeks ago. Now they're all finger-snapping, going "Girlfriend, be PROUD!" Yes, Adam: listen to the Times. Next time around sing to specific people, like Tom Cruise, or John Travolta's boyfriend.
As for Lady Gaga, I'm thinking heads will roll this morning. What idiot put her piano inside a giant glass box? God, some people are absolute morons. I'm just glad she broke in in time to finish the song. I also enjoyed her smashing bottles on the piano. Next time around maybe she can spin some plates on sticks too.
Okay, now you want real hating? WHITNEY HOUSTON SHOULD SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO AWAY. She was the most talented singer in the world, bar none, and for the last eight years I've been hoping she'd come back. And whaddaya know, finally she does, and now girlfriend is even more annoying sober. She acts like Satan broke her shoelace, but Jesus bought her a new pair of Louboutins. The minute she put the crack pipe down she started spouting this "I knew I'd survive!" and "You haters know I'm too strong to fail!" and "Just put your faith in the Lord!" claptrap. She's sooo strong and sooo tough, she knew she'd make it through the rain.
Well, except that was EIGHT YEARS of fuckin' rain, during which her children grew up. Even people in Seattle would be going, "What the fuck? She sounded like Debbie Reynolds gargling last night, because that rain totally drowned her ass.
So, call me crazy, but I'm thinking the "Praise Jesus!" routine is preposterous. What, was he in line at Pinkberry for the first seven years eleven months? Dressing Bratz dolls with Bobby Christina? And yes, it's us haters who are the bad guys, sitting around screaming "COULD SOMEBODY PLEASE GET WHITNEY'S ASS TO REHAB?" while she was freebasing coke off Bobby Christina's head.
Naturally the first line of her acceptance speech was, "Of course, God is always Number One in my life." Yeah. Always Number One. Like she's been smoking incense for the last eight years.
Whitney's idiocy is matched only by Kirstie Alley. "Scientology is amazing!" she screams. "We don't need psychiatrists! We don't need drugs! All is possible by the power of the mind!
"Now who the fuck can help me lose eighty pounds?"
1 comment:
Wow. I'm guessing some people sang on TV last night.
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