22 Pineapples for Commanding Teleprescience
I have for you... my flufferedly March predictions:
1. American Idol: The final two standing will be Katharine and Ace. And no, I am not embarrassed to climb aboard the Ace bandwagon (as opposed to, of course, the Ace bandage). The guy sang George Michael, good godders, complete with cheesy narrow-eyed stares and small, choppy gyrations... and yet I was absolutely transfixed. Trans. Fixed. Not to mention throwing goldfish at my TV while yelling "i'm-shallow-but-he's-sexy-shallow-but-sexy-shallow--shallow---but--but..." until I broke down into a mediated headswirl of crumbs and mumbling.
Because of this, and his amazing hair that I would pay at least 5 dollars to touch, and the fact that Paula dribbles all over her silk cami every time he comes on stage, I believe he will win.
Also because of this, I seriously need to vacuum.
However, I'd like to note that in Ace's little bio page on the Fox site, he notes that his "proudest moment in life so far" is helping his nieces "learn life." If he can tell me how exactly one goes about the precise practice of "learning life," I'm sold. But I'm betting that he's using this phrase in solid earnestness, for which I feel a deep, deep, encompassing sadness.
I'd also like to note that for however cute lil' southern-drawly Kelly Pickler is, I'm so totally over her farmgirl-who-loves-her-grandpa act. In a single word: overdone. In eight (one a contraction): I. bet. you. don't. even. own. a. goat.
2. Project Runway: Daniel V. will win. Santino will get a spin-off. Chloe will disappear into the lifehole because she is talented, but completely boring.
3. As for The Bachelor tomorrow night... I'm going Moana all the way.
She's crazy and unstable and all the girls hate her. My prediction stands.
Ace bandage? Come on. Who let me type that?