Leslie Gray Streeter

Susanna Hoffs and the Eternal Pore Strip

It's not often you can fit the words "80's pop pixie Susanna Hoffs" and "Biore Pore Strips" in the same sentence.

Well, you probably can't. But I can. Because there's probably something wrong with me.

I just got off the phone with the delightful Susanna, lead singer of the ethereally swirly 80's mod-jangle girl band The Bangles, because of "Under The Covers," where she and Matthew "Girlfriend" Sweet cover some of the best '60s pop classics, like the Bee Gees "Run To Me" and The Beatles "Your Bird Can Sing." It's sweet and sometimes fairly brilliant.

Anyway, during our chat, we started talking about The Bangles, and how they and the Go-Gos were the sexy mamas of all-girl bands, at least those who weren't cartoon characters wearing cat ears. That lead to a discussion of Lilith Fair, the twirly-skirted mama of all-girl tours.

I mentioned that I'd seen her at the first Lilith tour in 1997 in Jersey, with my then-boyfriend, who, in a rare instance of trying to be impressive, chased Susanna down after her set to get her autograph for me.
We caught up with her, but when we did, no one had any paper on them, so we gave her the only thing we had to write on — a plastic-covered promotional sample of Biore Pore Strips, a tour sponsor and the facial dirt-removing product which Susanna remembers as being "the revolutionary thing then."

Indeed.

"That's awesome! So did I sign it?" she asked me.

"Yep," I said, not mentioning that I think I still have it somewhere, next to wherever I've stashed my John Hancocks of Aimee Mann and Til Tuesday, and my Paul Young concert ticket from 1985.

I'm joking about one of those.

I must add that she signed the package, not the pore strip, which was never opened and which was therefore cruelly denied a chance to reach its full dirt-removing abilities.

"American Idol:" Next!

It's a quick hit here tonight, folkies, because I've already gone on, forever and a day, about how it was time for little Lisa Tucker to go. And as Hall and Oates once said, you've gotta learn how to face it. She's gone. And I hope that she takes her newly won free time and trains her very pretty voice to be even stronger and more impressive, and uses her increased maturity to learn to take criticism better.

She's a sweetie. But she was way out-classed. And she's not the only one..

"American Idol:" Ward, I'm worried about the Beav!

You know how those childcare experts say that modern kiddies are going to developmental Hades in a handbasket because their parents essentially put a giant bicycle helmet over their whole lives, so they not only won't get hurt, but so they're so buffered that they won't feel anything?

Viva La Idol!

I cannot for the life of me understand why you'd have a show where you present your singers to be judged if you won't allow anyone to judge them. And I don't mean to be mean to them, or tear them down or tell them they're ugly. There seems to be some law against giving any opinion that doesn't say "You're the bestest singer in the whole wide world and you've never done anything wrong, ever!"

Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson feel that they can say anything they want to the Idolettes, and it's cool. But if Simon Cowell is anything less than completely enthusiastic about a singer, he gets completely shut down. And not just by the crowd, or by incredulous contestants like Lisa Tucker, who seemed stunned last night that not everyone thinks she's everybody's special princess. It's the other judges and head cheerleader/host Ryan Seacrest who seem literally ready to jump on Simon and beat him about the head with toilet brushes and soap lest he dare hurt anyone's feelings.

Or tell the truth.

Look, I know Simon's got the "heavy" role, like Randy has the "wise but kind uncle" role and Paula has the "Sweet Aunt Tillie swigging on the Thunderbird" role. But why even bother having a Simon if the kids are being instructed not to pay attention to anything he says?

"American Idol": Chicken Little's sky has fallen

Well! I felt absolutely awesome about the booting of wee Kevin Covais tonight, not because he wasn't a
nice-ish kid, or because he didn't do OK during The Night Of The Manilow, but because he was simply the
weakest singer.

And it was time for him to go.

In the end, he wasn't saved by some weirdly placed need to protect him from the big bad mean judges or the people who insist that those people in a singing contest actually be the best singers.

He didn't get the votes, my friends, because other singers deserved them more. Yippee! The process works! So American! I feel like I'm on an episode of "Schoolhouse Rock" - "Contestant Junction, what's your function? Gonna boot you off, if you're really awful...."

American Idol" Barrycobana!

I love, love, love the semi-regular Barry Manilow nights on "American Idol." He Who Writes The Songs is, flashy '70 Vegas-isms and disturbingly emotion-prohibitive face lift/eye tuck combo notwithstanding, the best provider of something the Very Special Singerlings desperately need - solid musical coaching from someone who has absolutely nothing invested in kissing their butts or tearing them down.

Because he's Barry Freaking Manilow.

The lovely thing is that even the ones that didn't seem to initially respect the power of the Barry - Elliot, I'm looking at you - seemed to understand, after their rehearsal with him, that trends and youth may come and go, but that experience, music and passion are always the fashion. With the Barry...I fell in love.

And now: The highest highs and blahest blahs:

- Katharine: Boy, this girl is talented, and pretty and poised. I'd like to see her go a little crazy and nutty, just to see that she's not a refined one-trick pony. Still, she's consistently the best female singer in the thing, except for...
- Mandisa: Forget all the hoo-ha about Chris being the only one with the full, stardom-ready package. This child is gorgeous. I mean stunning. And she's gracious and amazingly voiced. Truly amazing, and exciting to watch.
- Elliot: Just adore him.
- Taylor and Bucky: Simon's right about their performances being blah and karaoke-like if they were standing alone. But they both have that special something - joy and a genuine appreciation for being up on that stage, especially my little Buccaroo, who is this week's Idol Boyfriend. Because he got rid of the Jessica Simpson hairdo.
- Lisa: Is she still here?
- Kevin: He was OK. Still not thrilled.
- Ace: True story - I tried to watch his song three times and fell asleep every time. And you know his song was not that long. Hmmm.
- Paris: I was not on the Midnight Train To Paris early on, but she's growing on me, because, like the Buckanator, she's fired up to be there, and is sometimes dorky in her overexcitement. And that's OK, because at least she's spontaneous, unlike....
- Kellie: What have they done to her? She used to be delightfully real-ish and affectation-free, on the robotic pageant tip. But now, she's doing the Lisa Tucker choreographed stage performance: "One-two-three-Smile, one-two-three-impassioned face, one-two-three point." Boring. Please, come back. I'd even take another story about Comet and strange fish if this is the road you're going down.

I Can't Believe It's Not Fabio!

From the "If it didn't exist, we'd have had to create it so we could laugh about it" Department: It seems that veteran romance novel hunk and fake butter spokeshimbo Fabio is passing torch of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" pitchmanship over to a new hottie, whose duties will include standing shirtless, staring intently and smolderingly at various actresses playing fake butter devotees, and, most importantly, expressing his disbelief that the creamy-tasting substance he's enjoying on his baked potato is, indeed, not of a butter nature.

You would think the field of qualified applicants would be as wide and varied as there are Chippendale's and dudes named Lance. But somehow, the "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" folks have narrowed it down to four, all soap stars: "General Hospital's" Greg Vaughn (Lucky Spencer), "The Young and the Restless"'s Kristoff St. John (Neil Winters), "Guiding Light"'s Ricky Paull Goldin (Gus Aitoro) and "Days of Our Lives"'s Shawn Brady (Jason Cook). Soap stars are probably good for this gig, because they often spend much of their time shirtless, and because they're regularly called on to portray their sense of disbelief at things a lot more shocking than fake butter, like "I Can't Believe My Dead Brother Whose Fiance I've Been Hitting On Has Actually Been Held Captive By A Crazy Gulf War Widow" or "I Can't Believe The Town Sleazy Mogul Is Actually My Dad!"

(And those are real storylines, by the way. I'm talented, but I couldn't make that stuff up.)

I'm sure any of the above are up to exemplary standards set by Fabio, who I happen to have a lot of respect for, because he doesn't take himself seriously. If you want to weigh in on this important matter, go to www.tasteyoulove.com. I won't tell you how to vote, but here's a pointer - Greg Vaughn's Lucky spends a lot of time getting shot and injected with viruses and stuff, and is often sweaty and shirtless. And looks gooood. That's all I'm saying.

"American Idol": Sweet Melissa!

Even though my boot prediction abilities have been vindicated with the elimination of Florida's own
Melissa McGee, I'm sorry to see her go. Not because she was interesting - she was not. In fact, it took
me three weeks to remember that there was somebody named "Melissa" on the show.

Still,I'm sorry she won't be around anymore, mostly because I loved her attitude. As Keebler McSeacrest pointed out, Melissa always smiled, not matter what, and appeared to be truly gracious
when she was finally kicked off. No blame, no diva fits. Just an honest sense of disappointment and
still more smiles.

(Weep.)

"American Idol": Higher grounds, part-time lovers

I've been battling this cough all week that makes me alternately sound hot and sultry like Kathleen Turner and then also sick and scary, like Jason Vorhees breathing through a bloody hockey mask (Ch Ch-Ch-Ch).

So you have some sort of idea what I sounded like when my sister warned me that the "Stevie Wonder" night special on "American Idol" featured Stevie's 1984 naughty- naughty extra-marital affair jam "Part-Time Lover," as interpreted by the exceedingly sexy, suave, and Billy Dee Williams-like Kevin Covais.

Yes, this Kevin Covais.

The 16-year-old one. Who looks 12. And so wide-eyed, pure and innocent-chickie-in-the-woods that he probably couldn't sneak Goobers into a movie theater convincingly without cracking, let alone sneak around.

And yet..."We are strangers by day/lov-ahs by night/Knowing it's so wrong, feeling so riiiight...."

Ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaaugh!

Other "Wonder"ful sightings:

- Ace's "Do I Do" was really sharp, but I was swooned-over by his crying at meeting Stevie, as Stevie is my favorite, and some of these other people "weren't all that familiar" with his work. Which makes me unhappy. Yay, pretty Ace.

- Kellie wasn't as bad as the judges seemed to think, honestly. She looked really pretty. But it wasn't her best.

- Little Elliot, now my official favorite of the dudes, also crumbles under the emotional weight of sharing airspace with Stevie. He is a sweetie. I like him muchly.

- Mandisa's "Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing" started out way low, but she recovered. Nice.

- Bucky Buckified "Superstition" into some sort of Skynyrd-Stevie hybrid...and it worked. Y'all aren't gonna like this...but Shaggy's growing on me. A Scooby snack for you, my friend.

- Melissa's "Lately" was a mess of missed words, but she ended strong. And yet...You forgot the words. Grrr.

- You know it's not your day, little Lisa Tucker, when you pageant-ize several lines of Whitney Houston's "I Have Nothing," which was made for pageantization, and Stevie Wonder comes along...and sounds better than you just humming.Yes, out-hummed by Stevie Wonder. Hang down your head, Tom Dooley.

- Kevin. "Part-Time Lover." "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane" make-up. Frightening dancing. Absolutely no sense of humor, and surliness to Simon. Hmmm...Have you ever been to camp, Kev-o? Camp...with a boot?

- Katharine: Best of the ladies. Love her.

- Taylor: "Living For The City" and with a new haircut. He was almost hot. The Tae-Bo dance was killing me, though.

- Paris: Awww! They shrunk Patti LaBelle! And she's adorable! Now I get her. And she's so cuuuute.

- Chris. OK, so you lose points for thinking "Higher Ground" was originally a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, but their version was amazing, and I love you anyway, and you made it your own, as Paula would say. Actually, Simon said it this time....Simon's stealing from Paula now? Worlds collide! Worlds collide!

"V" For Vendetta: Five Very, Very Important Things To Watch For!

There's a whole lot of shaking going on in Friday's grandly gorgeous, gory and gigantically exciting "V For Vendetta," penned by reclusive "The Matrix" masterminds The Wachowski Brothers and taken from Alan Moore's graphic novel. I saw a sneak preview on Tuesday, and while I'm not sure a lot of it makes sense (you can debate me on this later), it was pretty awesome.

It's the tale of a scary, not-too-distant future in a totalitarian London that's run by a Hitler-esque dictator (John Hurt), and that keeps its minions, like TV station worker bee Evey (Natalie Portman), in check with a healthy dose of oppressive fear and a threatened jackboot to the throat of any opposition. It's the kind of tense terror that breeds a revolutionary, the masked V ("The Matrix"'s Hugo "Agent Smith" Weaving).He's packing a nifty cape, more knives than a Williams-Sonoma, and a mask of Guy Fawkes, who tried to blow up Parliament in1605, a nifty cape, more knives than a Williams-Sonoma. It's almost too much to take in at times, but here are five "V"'s to keep your eyes peeled for.

Voice-overs: Natalie Portman, sporting an impressive British accent, sets the film's creepy, paranoia-
squared tone with an ominous history lesson and the promise of a tale of a man she'll never forget.
Vengeance: Everybody, including Evey and V, has a back story and a reason to shake a raised fist - and perhaps a sharpened weapon, in the fierce face of The Man. Try to tie the threads together. It ain't easy. But it's worth it.

Violence: Many of V's butt-kicking scenes are very neo-Neo (although nobody twists through the air in slow motion), and muy bloody. This is not a pacifist vendetta. Watch out for a particularly nasty, thrilling visit to a shower.

Victims: Like I said, there are some non-too-subtle parallels to Nazi Germany, most vividly in scenes showing the vicious torture tactics visited on citizens who resist. Not for the faint at heart.

Verse: "Remember, remember the Fifth of November." It's the famous poem and call-to-arms about Fawkes and his plot. And it's slightly creepy. And very cool. Viva la Vendetta!

Nuts-and-Bolton, celebrity meows!

Oh, so much to talk about - which, I promise, has nothing whatsoever to do with the words "Kellie," "Pickler" or "salmon." This morning, they've announced the last national act additions to the Sunfest lineup — Michael Bolton, Bruce Hornsby, Toots and the Maytals and Mavis Staples, who could still sing crop circle-size rings around the majority of your young singer-istas.

While I think these are worthy-ish picks, I'm sorta snickery about one of the brief bios sent for each act, the one for Michael Bolton, famous over-singer of songs that needed not to be sung at all, ever, either over or under. The bio says that he's best known for "How Can We Be Lovers" and "I Said I Loved You...But I Lied." What makes me laugh is that while I find most of his stuff tacky, those are probably his absolute worst songs, except for maybe his unneccessary, unpretty pillaging of The Four Tops "(Reach Out) I'll Be There."

Actually, he's probably best known for "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You," which he wrote and which the late Laura Branigan did even worse than he did, and for "Soul Provider," an actual pretty song in which he doesn't sound like he's passing a Miata.

A lot of people hate those songs, too, but they're nowhere near the suckage level of the ones in the bio, particularly "I Said I Love You," which nearly started a scene at my friend Charlene's wedding back in 1993. Apparently, she'd given the DJ a strict no-Bolton edict, which he violated after a giggling, champagne-soaked bridesmaid (NOT ME) thought it would be funny to talk him into it. He fell for it (fool!) and the very sweet bride's head whipped around like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist." It was frightening and sorta funny - because she wasn't looking for me.

Anyway, if you're gonna book him, play up his strengths, like "Soul Provider." Or his still-impressive cheekbones. Or the fact that he no longer looks like Lion-o from "Thundercats."

In other news: Gordon Gekko goes to Snarktown, and passes the savings on to you!

You can rarely get A-list celebs to say anything bad about each other, because they're "above" it, and don't want any unslightly mishaps at the next "Vanity Fair" party. But I picked up this little tidbit on Salon. Michael Douglas was apparently quoted about Brad Pitt's choices in the love department — perhaps you've heard something about this? He said "I don't know about Brad Pitt leaving that beautiful woman [Jennifer Aniston]

to go hold orphans for Angelina [Jolie]. I mean how long is that going to last?"

It's catty, uncalled for, and kinda funny. And Brad's not gonna get in his face about it, because, hellooo? It's Michael Douglas. And Cat Z-J appears to be maybe the only Hollywood high-hat who could take Angelina in a bar fight.

"American Idol": Kellie Pickler, evil genius?

I used to think that the talented Kellie "Hey, Y'all!" Pickler was merely a pleasantly naive little girl. Now, I think she is the Ellie Mae Clampett version of Edward Norton's supposed hick murder suspect in "Primal Fear." Not that she's a murderer. I mean, I think she's genuinely awed by the big lights and all, and she'd be weird if she wasn't. I just think she's laying on that "I ain't never been nowhere and don't know nothing but I'm as shiny as a shrimp in grits to be here and swim in your see-ment pond!" thing a little thick. And I ain't buying it.

I am still marveling over her Hee Haw-fied handling of Melissa Etheridge's "I'm The Only One," which was note-perfect but just wrong-headed. See, to sing that song right, you've gotta sound desperate to the point of almost being obsessively stalky. You gotta sound like you're willing to smack down that skank who's shacked up with your man, pull her off him by her hair and threaten to cut her if she doesn't slink out of town like the dog she is, right now.

I think that, pushed far enough, pretty much everybody has an obsessive smacking gene in them somewhere. But Pickler, she of the charming ladies' man grandpa, the wonder-eyed discovery of citified food they ain't got down there on the farm (this week: "Sal-mon!") and Comet the Wonder Mutt, doesn't want to channel that, because that would alienate the Dolly-bot fans that she's supposed to be inheriting. Nope, even though Simon thinks she's a "saucy little minx" - and excuse me, while I roll my eye - Pickler's only gonna growl so much until she remembers that her carefully ginghamed image with Grampy and Comet and sal-mon, and then she'll toss her adorable blond head and wrinkle her nose and giggle some more. Unless she drops that act and taps into her full CMT Ann-Margret capabilities, she's just so-so cakes to me.

And for the record, I'm pretty sure they sell salmon at Kellie's local Winn-Dixie.

Oscars: Ends with musical pimp slap.

Wow! "Crash" won best picture! It couldn't have been any sweeter if the makers of this important film had gotten as much time to accept their award as, say, Reese Witherspoon. I know she's America's Sweetheart and loves her grandmama and little babies and husband, but they even cut the music off for her to talk. That's cruddy, ya'll.

And it's over. What have we learned tonight? That if you chill with Tootie long enough, somebody might give you an award. That sometimes the best speeches are by people you've never heard of. That being given an award by a cartoon duck means they don't really like you. And that if you've made the best picture of the year, Elle Woods still gets more props than you do.

Night, possums! Off to beddy bye! Because it's hard out here for a girl whose foot is asleep.

11:22 Oscar time: Dear Mr.Oscar...If it ain't "Brokeback" don't fix it

Now Ang Lee has said "I wish I could quit you," meaning that the line has now waterskied over the shark, done a sommersault, feed the shark a Filet-O-Fish and then done a baton twirling routine to "I Will Survive."

11:10 Oscar time: Dear Mr.Oscar...Tyne Daly would like a word with you

Larry McMurtry, co-winner of "Best Adapted Screenplay," is wearing a tux jacket and shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. Because you never know when you might need to bale some hay behind the bar at the Vanity Fair show. McMurtry is one off my faves, I would have loved to have seen Dan Futterman win for "Capote," so that he might have thanked Tyne Daly and the rest of the cast of "Judging Amy." And that would have been too delicious.

10:56 Oscar time: Remember what I said about this ending on time? Never mind,

So some ninny just screamed for Jamie Foxx like he was a member of Bell Biv Devoe. Just because Three 6 was breaking it down doesn't mean we're down at the club, ya'll.

Audrey 2 is chewing on Charlize's earring.

Reese! Reese! I would have enjoyed seeing Judi Dench give Jamie Foxx a big kiss, but I kinda figured this. Reese is so adorable I could eat her with some hushpuppies. Her husband looks nervous for her like she's accepting the Best Pork Recipe ribbon at the fair, and he just wants to make sure she's OK.

Aww!

10:47 Oscar time: Now that's a speech.

There is nothing funny. but everything beautiful, real and proud, about director Gavin Hood's acceptance speech for "Tstosi," where he threw props to his co-nominees and cast and to Africa. If they had started the music on him, that would have been evil.

Oh, snap. It's 10:45 and we're already on Best Actor. Are we actually finishing this on time? Are the ice caps melting. AUGGH! It's a wolfffff!

The Oscar goes to...Philip Seymour Hoffman. And I gotta tell you, I have always had a crush on him, because he's so talented. Talent is sexy. (That's OK, Paul Walker. You're still hot.) He thanked his mama. Is he trying to make me cry? Well, it worked. Are you happy, now?

10:29 Oscar Time: Crunchy Black, Oscar winner

I am so thrilled and tickled that the Three 6 Mafia are now in the same club as Celine Dion and Randy Newman, I don't know what to say. Jon Stewart is right - that's how you accept an Oscar. You thank your Moms, and God, and any random celeb in the audience, even the ones you don't know, because who knows when you'll ever be up there again? It's not pre-written or stilted or read off your napkin. It's from the heart, and the giddiness, and the joy of saying "Ya'll! Lookit me!"

And, again, they did it with the word "pimp" in their song.

Oh, yeah...Hap "Mr. Movie Guy" Erstein, my esteemed colleague and jousting competitor? You lost the bet that this song would not win, and you owe me cash, son. No, I didn't forget. I'll be taking that in quarters, because it's hard out here for a girl with no laundry facilities in her crib.

10:03 Oscar time: In the (sound) mix!

I'm so happy the best sound mixing people get to get up on the stage and accept their awards, after last year's edict that had non-major category contenders pretty much picking up their statues at the Circle K down the street, along wtih one of those Horoscope scrolls and little bags of Lance pork rinds located next to the cash register.

Heh heh. Lily Tomlin just said "Peyote buttons."

Seeing Lily and Meryl Streep banter so effortlessly, even when it's silly, is a treat, because they have the chops to be funny, to have perfect timing and an ease. The cast of "Aquamarine" - take note.

Robert Altman - a man worth his montage.

9:49 Oscar time: Salma, oh Salma

Salma Hayek continues to distiguish herself in Hollywood by being so proud and such an iconoclast, and by appearing to enjoy eating from time to time.

Itzhak Perlman is amazingly talented, but it was weird how almost every score he played on his violin, except "The Constant Gardener," sounded just the same. Hmm...

9:36 Oscar time: One of these things is not like the other.

OK, people...let's play a game. Which one of these important, ground-breaking movies does not belong on this list? "Network," "All The President's Men," "In The Heat of the Night," "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington," "The Day After Tomorrow."

Hint: it's the one with the wolves trying to eat Jake Gyllenhaal on a doomed boat trying to escape the new ice age.

9:25 Oscar time: Looting in the name of love!

Charlize and Audrey 2 are presenting the "Best Documentary Feature" award to "March of the Penguins," which is making me happy because the stuffed penguins get to come on stage. I would normally think that bringing a big giant penguin on stage is going Carrot Top. But they're big cute penguins. They gave Charlize one, too. Ooh...maybe her dress will try to eat it.

Bird York, who is singing the "Crash" song seems oblivious to the burning cars and looters behind her on stage. Wait! That's Andie, Toby's babys' mama on "The West Wing." She's beautiful and sounds great. I'm kinda dubious about the looters. But whatever.

9:15 Lauren Bacall could still kick your butt.

The legendary Miss Lauren was just struggling through her introduction about Film Noir, dropping a line, seemingly forgetting her place and then, just like a strong dame, picking it up and finishing strong. That's classy.

"Judy Dench took my eye out in a bar fight" is the new "I wish I knew how to quit you." Pass it on.

8:52 Oscar time: Regretting that phone thing now, ain't-cha Russell?

Watching this montage of biographical movies bears witness to what I have always believed was the Oscar routing of all time - Al "Hoo-ah!" Pacino winning the Best Actor Oscar in 1992 over Denzel Washington's fierce Malcolm X and Robert Downey Jr.'s Charlie Chaplin. Grrr.

Russell Crowe looks so contrite, so nice, so "If I give that guy I hit with the phone $100 million right now, can ya'll wedge me into Best Actor? Puh-leaze?"

You oughta think about that next time you reach out and touch someone...with a heavy piece of plastic.

Jon just made a joke about Rachel McAdams being fully clothed, a slap at that tacky "Vanity Fair" cover she was bumped off of for supposedly not being nekkid in a threesome with Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman, who I always thought were the same person.

Supporting Actress...My friend Missy just called to say that Michelle Williams looks like Big Bird's little sister, Birdy Bird, in her canary yellow dress that's fanning out around her face like she's the world's prettiest sunbeam.

Rachel Weisz - classy lady, especially to look so elegant when she's 37 months pregnant. It would be so much more respectful of her speech, which is about the people of Africa and the world who put their lives on the line to protect human rights, without the piano tinkling of Buddy the Lounge Singer as she's trying to speak. It's like Happy Hour at the Leopard Lounge up in here

8:32 Oscar Time: It's hard out here for a cartoon duck.

So, when Jon implies that only two of the Baldwins are talented, which two is he talking about? My money's on Alec and Daniel. Because Billy's seminal work in "Sliver" was not the taste sensation that was sweeping the nation.

Zach Braff and Joan Cusack are adorable even when in creepy cartoon bird form. I know it's sweet and a feat in technology to have animated ducks giving out Oscars, but if this is your only time in the Academy spotlight, don't you want to have a human handing you yours and not fake feather hands?

Just saying.

8:32 Oscar Time: Ben Stiller is a genius.

Mostly because he has no shame. That green screen thing was priceless.

Reese Witherspoon has just announced that Wallace and Gromit have totally kicked the Corpse Bride's butt! And...WHAT IS WITH THE MUSIC? GEEZ! How can we hear the bad speeches if you don't let them ramble on and make themselves look stupid?

Here's Dolly, who is bringing "Dollywood to Hollywood," she says. Little-known fact -I barely missed meeting Miss Dolly in October 2004, at a strip mall nail joint where myself and my buddy Non-Bridezilla Nerissa, were getting our nails did for Ris' rehearsal dinner. Apparently, when I went to the bathroom, Dolly was paying her bill. Drat.

Jack Nicholson is the worst clapper in the world. It's official. It's like he's killing moths in his plam or something.

8:20 Oscar Time: Dr. Ross, Oscar winner!

"So, I'm not winning director," George Clooney says. He was great in "Syriana," but I'm so stunned that Giamatti didn't win. Rooked again. He should go get a drink with Susan Lucci and tell Mama all about it.

Did you notice that instead of starting the "Shut the heck" up" music, they just never stopped playing it during his whole speech? If people go over, are they gonna play different music so you know you're rreally done? "Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye?" perhaps?

8:16 Oscar Time: Best opening montage ever.

And I'm including the one where Michael Moore tells the Hobbits that they're waging a fictitious war.
Anytime you can get Clooney, Gibson and creepy kids in Steve Martin wigs in the same sketch, you're just mining the comedy gold.

Jon Stewart is hilarious and these uptight people won't give him the laughing love. He just had a great line about Clooney ending his dates "Good night and good luck." Ha. Funny unless you're one of those ladies. Although even getting rejected shamelessly on the first date by Clooney is like a five-year relationship with anyone else.

Ooh, look at Stewart getting the Dick Cheney and Bjork joke in one deft shot! He's a professional, ladies and gents.

Charlize Theron's bow is about to open up and start singing being an intergalactic plant about to take over the word in the voice of Levi Stubbs.

They're finally clapping. Well. About time, people. Brother's working hard up here.

7:52 Oscar time: Some last pre-show thoughts!

Chris Connelly just said "We wish we knew how to quit you." Uh-huh. That phrase has officially jumped the shark, tried to jump back over it, and been eaten by it. It is the Robert Shaw of catch-phrases.

Nominee Rachel Weisz, who is 21 months pregnant, needs to stop talking to Shark Boy and get inside. I hear they may be giving out awards in there!

Jamie Foxx has brought his sister with him. He's wearing a striped blue shirt that doesn't exactly match his tie but looks fantastic anyway. That boy just can't look bad.

They're showing Jessica again, and she just may be the best dressed woman here. My buddy Jason just called to say he thought Felicity Huffman looked amazing - Nikki thinks her dress is too low-cut. I think she's gorgeous.

Oh, Lordy. It's that uncomfortable time when Billy Bush walks around with a mic and makes people nervous. Maybe he'll ask Sandra Bullock who slapped her.

Great. That was mercifully short.

You ready? No, me neither. But I'm working and you've got the nachos and aren't leaving the house anyway. So we're all in this together. Let's get snarky.

7:45 Oscar Time: David Strathairn is a genius.

That is all.

7:28 Oscar Time: The Keanu Train chugs on!

Sandy and Neo are talking to Isaac. Now her cheeks look like she has impatigo. And you know that ain't good.

Guiliana just said "So many stars, so many stars," and she sounded just like Donatella Versace, swimming in a lake of martinis. But without the fun hair.

I'm done with them. Cythnia is on ABC actually interviewing Terrence Howard and his cute little baby son, asking him why people love his pimp character DJay. And it's because he's a dreamer, Terrence said. You know, Vince Neil said that once, too. Because he's on his way-hay-hay, he's on his way-hay-hay. Home sweet home.

Oh shut up. Axl Rose is hanging around. I can make hair metal jokes.

Chris Connelly's talking to Jennifer Aniston, who's fabulous, and who looks relieved that the words "Brangelina" or "Vince" never left his lips.

Matt Dillon. Man, he hasn't made it inside yet? He was tolerating the Keebs over on E! like an hour ago. He just used the words "toxic bile" to desribe his rancid "Crash" character. He is so smart.

Here's a montage using Garth Brooks' "The Dance," which always makes me curl into a fetal ball and sob. Remember that episode of "Seinfeld" where Elaine was dating that guy who used to make everybody stop talking so he could emote during "Desperado?" I kinda get like that. But I can admit that, because I feel like we're cool.

So could you post on here so I know you're out there? I'm about to call my baby cousins and ask them to just log on and nap on the keyboard so I know somebody's out there? I'm a delicate flower, doncha know.

7:21 Oscar time, and it's a "Speed" reunion! Bomb on bus! Bomb on bus!

Sandra Bullock and Keanu "Don't Speak" Reeves are talking to the camera, and Sandy's got on some ill-advised obvious blush that Nikki says makes her look "like she's been slapped. Twice."

I love Cynthia Garrett, who is doing the ABC pre-show. We had breakfast together when I was in L.A. when she was on that "Love and Style" show. She is talking to some film critics, including Leonard Maltin, and she really seems to know their names and who they are, and have done some research. Shocking.

7:14 Oscar time: Jessica, no!

Jessica, I told you not to talk to Isaac! And now they're talking about her ladybug jewelry and I'm more tense than a crab at the Old Bay Seasoning factory, because I'm so afraid he's gonna be cringey.

Ryan is flirting via mic with Jessica, because he's up in the rafters with Guiliana making sure she doesn't ask anybody anything. Wait...is it over? And he didn't ask her anything embarassing or look confused when she referred to herself by name? Crikey!

7:08 Oscar time:. Ludacris, messing with the people

I haven't switched over to Joan and Melissa yet, but they can't be any more clueless than Isaac and company just were. Ludacris was barely tolerating Isaac's questions, drolling commenting that his diamond earrings were not "cute." And Isaac asks who dresses him, and Luda says "Chris Bridges."

And Isaac says "Who is that?"

So Luda says "He's this up-and-coming kid who's sold a million records," and Isaac, mad confused, is like "OK."

Oh, you idiot. Ludacris is Chris Bridges. He was trying to tell you this. And now he's just messing with you. I used to love Isaac. I still wear his jean jacket.But he needs to drop that mic like it's hot and run back to Target.

Joan is talking to the Three 6 Mafia. I love that she knows who they are. Crunchy Black is the best rapper name ever. I'm gonna name my first baby Crunchy Black. Won't that look cute on some earrings?

6:54 Oscar Time: Good Will's gabbing

I'm watching Will Smith and Will Ferrell chatting, all animated-like, on the red carpet. Can you imagine how funny that conversation must be? Jada Pinkett-Smith is wearing a fabulous blue dress that totally makes her look like a 40's screen star. Wow, everyone really is going classy this year. No tutus, no wrap-around geese.

It's almost boring.

Jessica Alba has teardrop earrings the size of my cell phone smacking against her shoulders, and what appears to be a beautiful green dress. So pretty. Please, please avoid Isaac. He will ask you about Playboy. You will be uncomforable. It will be frightening and someone will cry.

Paul Giamatti looks "furry," Best Friend Nikki says. I think he looks cute. Here's the second fight of the night...Is his beard a weave?

6:46 pm Oscar time: A Knightley's Tale

Nikki and I like Keira Knightley's dress and jewelry.She seems like a really smart, nice 20-year-old who can't believe how cool her life is. Is it too much to ask that every young starlet dress this classy? Yeah, probably.

6:35 pm Oscar time: Good golly, Miss Dolly!

Dolly Parton is my new hero, because she's beautiful and talented and funny and because she won't let Isaac Mizrahi get a word in edgewise and probably say something tacky about her boobs.

This Guiliana girl is the new Melissa Rivers: She has nothing to say, but yet she won't stop talking. She actually said "The stars are showing up. They are showing up?"

Really? I thought they were all out doing karaoke at the local Taco Bell.

George Clooney is so classy, because you can tell he kinda thinks Isaac Mizrahi is an idiot but he is too classy to say. That's OK, baby. We get it.

Now Isaac is hitting on Eric Bana, and he is ignoring Eric's question about whether he is going to behave this evening and not, you know, fondle anyone. Oh, so we can dish it out but not take it, hmmm?

Did Guiliana just use the word "co-lovers" to describe Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban? What does that involve? Why is she still here? Can't someone send her to the Coffee Bean for some creamer or something? One day..perhaps today...she'll realize that she sounds stupid. But then again, if she did, she probably wouldn't have her job.

6:17 pm, Oscar time: Let's do it for Johnny!

I love Matt Dillon, and that he answers stupid questions with grace, and that he's even more gorgeous than he was back in '83 when he was pummeling Socs in that rumble.

I totally want one of those big stuffed penguins that the guys from "March of the Penguins" are holding. Too bad the real penguins can't be here...because they're busy trying to survive Antarctica and not get eaten by rabid seals.

Wouldn't it be funny if this guy from "Us" who is telling Ryan the supposed business of people who doesn't really know was just making this stuff up of the top of his head?

6:10 pm, Oscar time: Maybe it's not so hard out here for a pimp

Lilliput McSeacrest is asking Ludacris who's the bigger pimp, him or "Crash" and "Hustle and Flow" co-star Terrence Howard. And Luda's like "Oh, it's totally me." And I ask you, why are we bragging about pimping?

How did Ryan score Naomi Watts? She's a real star. She appears to have broken into the vault where Molly Ringwald's "Pretty in Pink" costumes were kept and stolen one. It's like she was eaten by a cupcake.

Welcome to the big Oscar pre-show party, Ya'll!

5:30 p.m.: Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons...Sorry, wrong pop culture reference! How about this? I'm here for the party! My girl Best Friend Nikki is here for the party! Ryan Seacrest is on E!, here for his party, at the swankalicious Hollywood Roosevelt, which is where your very own Flick Chick stayed during her fun trip to LaLa Land.

RyRy is trying to be funny, talking about Jessica Alba's suing "Playboy" for implying that she posed for them by putting her on the cover. I'm no huge big fan of her acting, because, well...her acting, but she's really got a case. Sue, sue, sue. Change your name to Sue if you have to.

Guiliana the hostess cupcake and Isaac "Fondlerella" Mizrahi are killing time by flirting/asking each other what they're wearing/being stupid. Yawn. Bring on the stars. Even the cheesy ones. Isn't there some sort of Baldwin we can talk to?

5:47 : John Legend and Shorty McSeacrest are the same height, which is interesting, because I saw John Legend as he walked by the lowly print reporters on the White Carpet of Pretentiousness at the MTV VMAs, pretending we weren't there. And he's short. I'm not just saying that.

Apparently, John is not going to the Oscars, because he wasn't invited, but is playing at Elton John's after party. And you know the after party is where the real stuff goes down. The seating chart that RyRy is showing him says he is at the table with Elton and hubby David, Sharon Stone and...wait for it...Axl Rose. Why? Was Al B. Sure not available?

5:50: Isaac Mizrahi has told Jennifer Jason Leigh that he was cruising her husband, "Best Original Screenplay" nominee and "The Squid and the Whale" director Noah Baumbach.

Isacc. Shut up.

Apparently there aren't a lot of people there yet, because Ryan is doing the promotional flogging bit interviewing sister station Style's "How Do I Look?" star Finola Hughes. Finola can present herself as a fashionista Dr.Phil all she wants, but she'll always be "General Hospital"'s Anna Devane to me. So remember that when you're making moms from Minnesota cry when you make them throw away their 80s mesh Flashdance shirts.

The evening's first fight...Best Friend Nikki thinks that Halle Berry's 2005 Oscar hair was a weave. I saw no. Weave or no weave? We'll be taking a poll.You'll want to get in on this, America.

Guiliana...shut up.

Come join my Virtual Oscar Party, ya'll!

So your invitation to the Oscars got lost in the mail with your TV Guide? Mine too! So why don't you join me tomorrow, starting around 5:30, for my Virtual Oscar Party? We'll start with the E! pre-show, to see Keebler Seacrest, and take some brief jaunts over to Joan, Melissa and their facial surgery on the TV Guide Channel. And then, the main event! Will "Brokeback Mountain" come through with its expected juggernaut, or will some other movie come up, take its earrings off, and start somethin'? And what's John Stewart gonna say? I dunno either, but let's find out together!

I'll be bloggin' away, and I want you to chat away with me, dishing and wishing and hoping and praying that we get to see a lot of Terrence Howard and David Strathairn. I'll bring the dish, you bring your own snacks, and we'll have a grand ol' time!

"American Idol": Sway Away!

Thank you, Idol viewers! Thank you of giving the bootinski to three of my four suggested Boot Camp eliminations this week: boring Heather Cox, David "Crooney Crooney Cocoa Pops" Radford and Brenna the distasteful diva. Thank you for not making me continually submit them to the
virtual chopping block, like Scott Savol, only to have you kick off more deserving little singerlings.

Thank you, most importantly, for not making me look like a know-nothing moron. Good on ya.

Of course, you chose to also bid goodbye to soulful little Sway, and to spare Will "Seth Cohen" Makar. That's OK, though. Sway was gonna go eventually anyway. And Brenna is gone, something I wanted so bad that I would have willingly given up my beloved Joe Cocker Boy to accomplish it.

Almost.

"American Idol": Don't blame it on the good times, Blame it on the Tivo!

So this here blog is going to be short, because you just can't trust technology. I was out of town on top-secret and nationally important entertainment reporting matters, and asked the Tivo to do one simple little thing - to record "American Idol" while I was gone.

Well, don't send a high tech digital computer to do a VCR's job.

What I'm saying here is that it didn't record. And while I saw the ladies snooze up da joint on Tuesday (we've talked about this) I didn't see the guys. Tell me what I missed. Was there some before unseen grab at greatness, or a bunch of theatrical junk I should thank Tivo for not saving?

You're my eyes and ears, people. And the Tivo will be spoken to. Severely.