OLD NEWS

Oscar who?

The fat lady has sung. And won awards for it. But once the Academy has strutted its stuff, once we've seen the outfits, the frozen faces, the sore losers, the passed over , what's really left to discuss? Ellen? Not bad, not bad at all. Was I rolling in the aisles? Um, no. ut Jack Black and Will Farrell and John C Reilly were hilarious. Maybe they should host next year. Really, they should. All musical comedy, all night long. Oh, wait, that was Billy Crystal. Admittedly, I miss those songs....

So why write now, you ask? Well, simply put: because you asked. I've received more than a few emails wondering where the Oscar talk was. I figured everyone and his brother and her mother-in-law are blogging about Oscar. Or were. What's done, is done. But I'm a bit of a crowd pelaser, so hear I am, BOD. Blogging on Demand.

And since you asked...

Does anyone else think that Jerry Seinfeld was there to subtely pitch himself as next year's host? His new Bee Movie aside, what's he done for us lately?

La Kidman. Oh, Nic, what have you done with yourself? Turned from Batman heroine to the Joker. And Mr Freeze. That face! Once so gorgeous, now so....still. She's always been like a statue - but now her face is too. And not in a good way. According to one of my gossip hound friends, she's being written up as being 35. 35!!!!! She'll be 40 this year. Or at least 39. A fellow gemini, I like to keep track. Obviously she does not.

Murphy's Law. Bird in hand. Calll it what you want, but Eddie's loss was the scoop of the night. And no one was more surprised than the man himself, who promptly left. Grow up, Edward!

JHu should take a leaf out of JLo's book and learn how to do the red carpet. The latter, always perfect. The former, I know she's a newcomer but come on! My mom always told me, never put your hands in your pockets. Someone should've told Jen H. Fact is, when you've been generously endowed in certain areas, you either accentuate the positive (Ms. Lopez), or you hide it. Drape it. Skim over. You don't thrust your hands into your fancy shmancy dress. On the red carpet. Or anywhere. It's simply not a good look. From skimming to straining in a matter of seconds.

That's about all, sportsfans. While the list goes on, I shalll not. Unless, of course, you'd like to discuss Idol. I figured I'd wait 'til the top 12 are chosen, considering these ealry exiters will be promptly forgotten. They're the best of the worst, after all, chosen to put - and keep - the real talents in teh spotlights. But let's let them enjoy their moments in the spotlight, brief as it may be.

Oh, before I leave you....dedicating Let's Get it On to your parents? That ain't right.

Go Beat Boxer! Go JT Beckham!

MOAM....out!

SIMON SAYS...

Idol Fever. It's back. And it's bad.

In a good way.

Auditions are over, so all the saps out there don't have to worry about Simon being too "mean". Waah waah, cry me a river. If some sad soul is that desperate to get on tv -and honestly, how else can you explain some of these deluded freak shows - then you're fair game for Simon's wrath. Afterall, that's why they pay him the big bucks right? And that's why we all tune in.

Hollywood week? Done. Cloying and cheesy to be sure as they group together and doo-wop their hearts out. But it's only a 2-day affair (for us). And it's kinda funny to watch them freak out. And they whittle 'em down so fast it keeps you (me) glued. Good tv.

But that's all the preamble. The real fun starts now: The Top 24. 12 boys, 12 girls. Let the voting begin. My fellow idolheads and I have already discussed our faves. Not an easy task when half these cats are utterly unmemorable - but I suppose someone's gotta be the first to go, right?

My personal faves? Well, since you asked...

The Backups. I like the Minnie-Mouse girl backup. But I love the Hot Boy backup even more: gorgeous voice, gorgeous face - one to watch in every sense of the word.

The Innocent. You know, the one whose sister didn't make it? The Michael Jackson/Young Mick Jagger combo? Once he gets a smidgen of confidence, I think he'll really shine. Let's hope he's the young girl/granny choice this season, and not some annoying boy-band wannabe. Chicken Little anyone? Or tracheotomy guy? I shudder thinking about them. Go Sanjaya, go!

The Mean Girl who isn't. Annamaria? Anastasia? Antonella! She's The Hot Chick of the group and it seems folks thinks she's nasty. She's not. Yet. Her friend was, but she's been booted. Justice. Get ready for her makeover....re-ow.

The Justin Timberlake Guy. Where'd he come from? No one really knows. But he's JT's doppelganger. Voice, moves, 'do...Question is: will that help or hinder?

Lakisha. The single mom with the crazy pipes. Even the judges got a little welly over her. I love her. Love her!!! Hell, who doesn't?

Curly Sue. How long will it take her tresses to be ironed? I'm guessing within 2 weeks. She's quite appealing, with a great voice....but a face for radio. Could be a problem for her.

Jack Osborne Guy. The funny guy. With the funny hair. And a very serious voice. Awesome.

The Guy Who Missed His Daughter's Birth. Hat's off to him. No, really, hat's off. I quite like his voice and think he'll grow on us as the season goes. If he ditches his toque. If he's, ahem, receeding, then shave 'er down and face the music. Just lose the lid.

Sundance Head. With a name like that, who needs another? A bit of a Lucifer look-alike, he's the booming voice of the gang.

Crying Blond. She's cute. She's keen. She cries. America willl love her.

And the best of the rest?

Hmmm. There are some terrific singers whose faces escape me. And a couple of what-were-they-thinkings. And that incredibly annoying chick with the red streak in her hair. And the guy who wipes his eyebrows and calls it dancing. Oh - and the Beat Box guy!!! I forgot about the beat box guy. How cool is he? But can he sing?

I can barely sit still as I await next week's sho. or make that shows. This ratings juggernaut will be on every Tuesday, Wednesday AND Thursday for the next few weeks. If the sheer entertainment vaue wasn't reason enough to tune in, surely the broadcast schedule is. AI is taking over, so why hold out?

Play your pools, and place your bets. All aboard. The Idol train is leaving the station. Will you be on it? Will you have any other choice??

FIGHT CLUB

Parental playground question : who's got it worse - mother of the victim or mother of the perp?

Poor victim. No one wants to see their child hurt. You feel awful, wishing you could absorb your child's pain. So the victim's mom gets righteous indignation. Not the perp's mom. Or Dad. Or Nanny. Or whatever Guardian has to cringe as their charge taunts, teases, or beats the crap out of another small fry. After all, there is only so much you can do to, erm, train your child. Despite your best efforts, at some point, your kid's gonna be the bad guy.

And how will that make you feel?

Complicated answer.

I remember my older babe had these "friends" who liked to push him around after school. By day, they were all pals. In fact one of them constantly referred to my son as his Best Friend. Well! With friends like these...The second those tots were released into their parent's charges, mayhem set in. Every afternoon, like clockwork, these two little f&ckers would torture my angel. Push him, poke him, yell, scream, hit. You name it. Oddly enough, they were tiny things compared to my strapping lad. Possibly half his size. Did Napoleonic complex set in at 3? Maybe, Cuz they were like ratty little terriers.

I'd watch, loathe to get involved, as my son would tell them it was enough. He didn't like that (his emphasis). Part of me was proud. My son chose words. Brain over brawn. Another part of me wondered why the parents of these monsters didn't remove them, rather than issuing half-hearted warnings amid discussions of Christmas presents. And then there was the other part of me. The one I silenced. The one that secretly wished my son would realize his own strength and just wallop his tormentors once and for all.

One afternoon, as the moms stood around pretending to be pals, I noticed the kids playing one the slide. Together. Nicely. What a relief. Maybe I could make friends with these people. Maybe those boys were my son's best friends. Maybe....Suddenly a man started yelling about the kid in the red jacket. I pretended not to notice. There were lots of kids with red jackets, right? Then the waterworks started. And they weren't our brand. I turned to see this Dad holding my son by the hood of his coat. The look of defiance on my son's face was all I needed to know that he'd gone from victim to perp. He looked me in the eye and told me he hit ----. When I asked why, he said he had to. Before I could respond I was being berated on all sides. He didn't just hit ----, he kicked him in the head.

Suddenly, my child was the devil. The enemy at the schoolyard gates. I tried consoling the hysterical bully-turned-victim. I tried forcing my child to apologize, but no chance, Lance. I grabbed his hand to take him home, my face blazing with anger. But inside, I was jumping for joy. Atta boy, son! You showed those twerps. At last, he stood up for himself. Granted, he took it a little further than the pushes he'd experienced, but still... His "best friends" never bugged him again.

Yeah, I felt bad. Ish. And my son was punished. Sort of. But the fact is, that kid kind of deserved a swift kick to the head. It's a pity that my son had to be the one to give it to him. And, yes, it did make me feel guilty. Guilty that he got caught...