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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Wednesday, March 4   >>


For years now, you've probably been witness to my enthusiasm for American Idol, which often times could intimidate most 12-year-old girls. This year, you might be wondering why such enthusiasm has been void. Or maybe you don't give a shit, which is WAY more likely.

With a new judge at bay, who's a total bitch by the way (she was a proxy call for me before an interview about a month ago), and a new kind of voting system, I can safely say that, in this eighth season, American Idol has definitely jumped the shark.

I might give it another chance, but watching Idol now will in no way be like my past religious viewings. In the DVR are a load of episodes waiting to be watched, but I can't seem to give the show any more cred. This year is like a circus of ridiculous proportions that even I have standards for.

I mean, at least Sanjaya could fucking sing a song without looking like a complete embarrassment. Albeit once, it still fucking happened.

These two, though?
It's like D-grade Christopher Guest.