ey PopWatchers,
If you read EW's What to Watch, this is gonna be just... like... that. Only longer! And snarkier! And bloggier! As you may have read on Adam's post yesterday, I'm a blog virgin, so be gentle (yet forceful — gotta let me know who's boss). How'd I end up doing the honors tonight? Let's see, Adam and Shirley worked the red carpet, Whitney's on vacation, Dalton's editing the Idol special issue, Mandi's doing the live blog, Michael does everything else for y'all, Annie's stuck in New York, Tim's got a deadline for some non-Idol story (honestly, I didn't know we still did those), and everyone else has a life. So you got me, babe.
Given the Crips/Bloods, Hatfields/McCoys, Rosie/Elisabeth-levels of animus between Blaker Girls (and Boys) and Team Jordin, let's start with something we can probably agree on: Worst. Finale. EVER. Half the performers were seriously pitchy, dawgs. (A lone, fabulously manicured finger is pointing at you, Bette Midler!) The thing had to be sponsored by Geritol (I love me some gray foxes, but Smokey, Gladys, Tony, AND Bette??). And no, that was not an Elvis/Celine hologram-type experience when you saw when Joe Perry strapped to his guitar, playing backup for Sanjaya. That really happened. No, I was there.
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