CityMama™

Idols on Tour: We came, we saw, we flipped Taylor off

No San Francisco Story this week.  Instead, here's a San Jose Story for your enjoyment.

I bought the tickets the day they went on sale.  I waited months for this day to come. Last night, my dream of seeing all the American Idols live booing Taylor the second he stepped on stage finally came true.

Come on along with me and my partners-in-crime Bad Kitty and Radzilla as we embark on our adventure, won't you?

I picked up Bad Kitty after work in downtown San Francisco where she was waiting with caffeinated drinks because we're old and tired at the end of the day. An hour later we arrived at HP Pavilion in San Ho.

First things first.

Mmmmmm. Sweet, sweet vodka. Nectar of the gods.

As we looked around the crowd, we noticed right off the bat that we were not the target audience.  Not by about 30 years. On either side of 30 years. Color us the top of the bell curve.

Mandisa opened the show.  (We could hear her from the bar.)  But then...

ACE YOUNG: IT'S BEEN NICE KNOWING YA

I saw the greased-back pony tail, and I promptly clicked off the television.

Then I clicked it back on just to make sure I saw what I really thought I saw. Does the man never learn? It's like he's taken my advice and flipped it 180º. I mean, the man had bobby pins in his hair last night fer chrissakes. And then he had to point out that no, he "didn't cut his hair." Yeah, thanks for clarifying us, Ace. Yes, we all mistook your scraped-into-a-pony-tail-goombah-hair for a haircut. You know what, Ace?  We know you weren't born then, but we were at the China Club in 1991 so we saw that look when it was rocked the first time around. You're not fooling anybody. Anybody over 35, that is.

You really don't want to win do you, Ace? This week, I won't feel sorry for you when you don't crack a smile all night because you are so terrified of being voted off. I tried to help you, dude. You're so cute, why won't you listen? Enjoy being picked for the bottom three. Enjoy not being safe. Enjoy going home. Although there is a s l i g h t chance that Pickler will be "Aced" instead of you.

Moving on to other observations.

• Chris + standards = Enrique Iglesias (same trembly voice, no?)
• Kath-a-rine + tight closeup = creepy and disturbing (couldn't you just see her thinking "Where do I look? Where do I look?")
• Paris + red suit = Nancy Reagan would like her wardrobe back
• Elliott + sob story last week = me liking him a little more. (But that face on an album cover?... "I'd like to make him look a little more attractive, how far can we pull back?" "How do you feel about Cleveland?")

And, Rod Stewart + American Idol = worthless. The fuck did he do? He wasn't coaching or offering suggestions. What's he gonna say, "Here you should swing the mike stand around and bare your chest hair?" Or, "Here's where you should derail a perfectly successful, credible rock career and head into Michael Bolton-land?" (Michael, who also used to be a rocker, BTW. Does no one remember except me?)

He was no Barry Manilow. Barry truly brought out the best in each of "the kids." He was brilliant because he's worked with singers for a thousand years. Barry coached. He arranged. He played down weakness and, that show, everyone sang their best. Barry was this season's highlight.

God, why do I continue to watch this show? It only upsets me.

THAT'S IT, ACE YOUNG, YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN

Who cringed along with me as Ace tried to tell Queen how to play their song and then got totally shot down? Twice.

I don't even want to talk about the Euro trash shirt and "I'm a Maori surfer" neck bling. (Wooden beads, Ace?)

But let's talk about the pants for a moment. I didn't know Members Only made leather pants. Were those box pleats, Ace? Good lord. You were wearing the Dockers of the leather pants world. As my pal Bad Kitty just pointed out to me "leather pants are supposed to be tight. Like, I-can-tell-your-religion-tight." She is never wrong. Never.

Ace—I've tried to help you, but you just don't want to listen. You're going home tonight.  And if not tonight, then definitely next week.  You, Elliott (Your-Jaw-Re-alignment-Surgery-Will-Take-Place-Right-After- You-Get-Booted) Yamin, and Taylor and his annoying fucking harmonica are skating on thin ice.

Wait.

I just want to say one more thing. Kath-a-rine, Kath-a-rine, Kath-a-rine. Okay, look. I know Freddie Mercury died before you were born so you have no idea what he was all about, but you're singing Queen, not trying out for Phantom of the Opera. And, you picked a song from Highlander? Jesus god, you are young.

Okay, one more. Chris, your performance last night bored me to tears. I am officially tired of you.