OK, in preparation for tomorrow night’s episode. We’ve gone through the initial countrywide audition process with all the embarrassing sods who think they can sing and crazy antics by those wacky judges. Apparently there’s been a leak of who is in the Top 24, but I have not seen it and don’t wish to. There are small openings for such pathetic popular culture moments of excitement and anticipation in my life, so here’s my take:
(BTW: I am seriously underwhelmed by the Australian Idol website in that it give me downloads of individual songs, or any download for that matter or pics of the people I want.)
Carl Riseley will be interesting if he survives the pressure of the early cut. If he does, his voice is quite compelling.
Benjamin McKenzie is a high-talking pimply 16 year old, but his voice was wonderful and nothing like his speaking voice. Again, if he can survive the pressure in the early cuts he’ll be interesting to watch.
Junior To’o has the spunky look and a voice, could be a keeper
Lyall Adonis – ditto.
Marty Simpson is also another goer, but I think he’s too laid back and will fall into that when nerves and pressure get intense.
Jacob Butler – there’s a vulnerability about him which will score votes. He can also sing.
Jack Byrnes is in the same mould.
Husny Thalib and Siki Daha are the wild cards, but I reckon Siki will crash and burn under the pressure of the cull.
Dewayne Everettsmith – appalling name and weird mouth that sort of drags off his face, but Tasmanian so the island vote will keep him in for a while.
Hayden Andrews is weird – this years Bobby Flynn perhaps?
Tim Florea is another one who if he copes with those first culls, he’ll hang around for a while.
I tend to find the girls in the competition excruciating. They’re always so plastic. Hideously teased or bouffed hair with cheap highlights, fake nails with those little pictures or crystals stuck on them, cheap jewellry and singing Whitney Houston. Gag. There are a few salvations this year.
Natalie Gauchi is a goer, but I just don’t think she’ll get that “I love her!” momentum you need to win this sort of competition
Jesse Curran is a looker (but not in a bad way), also from a regional area so that will support her threw a few rounds. Her voice is quite tight though, not sure it will last the distance.
Lana Krost will get the 14 year old girl vote
Holly Weinert is another regional townee but had the rocker chick vibe which will go some distance
Brianna Carpenter is my favourite but she’s too left field to go all the way. But I so hope she does.
Cheray Doughty was captivating and next to Brianna, she’s my favourite chick
Cleo Howman is also interesting. She could hang around.
I am actually excited to see who makes it through from my own pick.
Yeah I know. Get.a.life.
Now, Sheeps Clothing left a comment on my last post which has truly inspired the following rant.
You all know my thoughts on “the Contessa” and I echo Sheeps question – a self-proclaimed contessa? or of what? where? and the de Tormentus, whose first name could sound a lot like Giardia, a nasty water born virus which gives you the runs. Kinda uncanny really. Chef and I are basically obsessed with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his life was (is?) actually a catalyst in the life changes we are discussing. I reckon Gordon Ramsay is mellowing with age and I like it. Any of his shows are fine by me but we do love Hell’s Kitchen for all the yelling at flustered Americans. Georgio Locatelli is hot. Oh and his cooking is good too. I think. The women on The River Kitchen scare me, particularly the one who looks like a weathered old pair of boots, or as my mother stated “Oh she’s not well.” Full stop. The stuff they cook seems relatively enticing but they never really give amounts and it all seems more about looking beautiful (the food and setting at least) rather than the food. I was highly skeptical of Market Kitchen but the format actually works and its enjoyable just for its Britishness. Tom Parker Bowles is also kinda cute in that English way. I can’t stand the bird hosting Great British Menu even though watching the chefs is fun. I can’t get into Lidia as while her current pr shot seems like she’s had a makeover, she is an unfortunate female sufferer of hair loss (well the lighting makes it look that way) and I can’t even move from that to see what kind of food she’s cooking. I used to turn Rick Stein off, but he’s kind of endearing and I love how he shows how easy it is to cook with seafood. Something I still basically do not do. I mean it. This household virtually never eats fish. So no fish. It’s like how I grew up in a house with no pork because Mum doesn’t like it. I absolutely LOVED John Burton-Race and his family in French Leave but seemed to have missed most of it. He seems the most unlikely man to have children and he has SIX. I didn’t like how he seemed to be very active teaching his only son how to cook but not the girls, but I suspect (hope) that was in the editing. There’s also a show about when he returns to the UK and wants to open a ‘little’ restaurant without any of the stresses of his past Michelin star winning ones. What follows is so stressful it is excellent entertainment. Anyway, after all that, I am still basically after shows which can give me dinner ideas and a new sweet treat every now and that strikes me as what a tv channel dedicated to food should be about. Anyway (again), in that vein I’m seriously missing Nigella and Jamie Oliver’s early programs.
In FAR less vacuous news…
When the hazelnut meal in the cupboard is past its used by date and you think “It’ll be alright”, it won’t. I threw a whole cake in the bin today.
We tried Grover on a bottle. 90 of 100 precious ml wasted.
Only one week left of soccer. YOU LITTLE RIPPER. Felix mentioned the c** word and I actually said “not on your life”. SHOT DOWN IN FLAMES BOOYA!I mean, FIVE FUCKING HOURS in the baking Sydney summer sun every weekend for the next six months. And he’s 7 – how engaging could being a fielder be? DREAMING.
I will tolerate Little Athletics. We are considering (begrudgingly) Little Nippers. I mean, we live about 200m from the beach for goodness sake. But it’s on a Sunday. Early. And it’s at the beach. Where there’s sand. I hate sand almost as much as I hate the entire concept of weekend sport. Actually no, I hate sand more.
I had another cry about Oscar tonight. I’ve decided that mainstreaming him has run its course. I’m too tired to go into all the details as to why, but I’m going to talk to the special needs coordinator at his school about it this week and get her thoughts. I should probably talk to Chef about all of this shouldn’t I.
* With apologies to anyone not in Australia and to those in Australia with far better taste in their television.