Happy Days But Not If You Like Adam Lambert.

Well!
A weekend to celebrate. Sort of.
Managed to bag myself some 'new' garden furniture for the princely sum of £0. Yep, that's right, got a big table, two chairs and two footstools for zilch!
Thanks Ken for the info.

It was a most delightful day on Sunday I put together my new bits and pieces, ate a rather rushed pork chop and then made a chocolate cake. But then the clouds did gather in the form of American Idol. Oh the finale was a sumptuous affair alright, lots of fun and lots of fantastic warblers, Rod Stewart, Queen Latifah,(?) Lionel Ritchie and Kiss did a turn but then Ryan Seacumber announced the result of who was to be crowned Winner...I shook. I sucked a breath and then he said the two words I didn't wish to hear. KRIS ALLEN! I was stunned. There was Allen standing meekly alongside the painted and ridiculously talented Adam , looking like it was just another day. For heaven's sake man you've just won a huge prize. Do something!
What on earth was he thinking? How was he feeling? That's what I wanted to know.

Do something I shouted. Even Ryan Seeover looked surprised and in the furore I heard the word 'enthusiasm'. I think Mr Seaurchin wanted a mighty explosive reaction from Allen. He didn't get it. He wanted to see some passion. He didn't get that either. And neither did I or the American public. I was very disappointed with the whole to-do.

But...Just before the winner was announced, Adam and Kris sang along with Queen. Bryan May and Roger Taylor sounding completely brilliant and looking very very good. And as they all bounded about to "We are the Champions" I wondered whether in the future Adam might make a record with Queen, because Lambert looked very at home with the Queen boys. Kris on the other hand disappeared into the background looking utterly lost and out of his depth. He is not a star.
Anyway it was a corker of a show and I loved all of it except the last minute.

Been quite warm today. And so after work, where I danced with my employer by the way, I pottered around my garden wearing green gloves and a large hat. Yes, a good weekend and fabulous Bank Holiday Monday.
Now cake...

The Queen and Her Princes

They all sing well.
Danny, Adam and Kris are the three men hoping for glory on American Idol. See pic.
And after last weeks performances I know who my money's on. Adam. And although I want to run off with Danny and bear his weight and children, I thought Adam's performance was simply mesmerizing, so magical was his rendition of Whole Lotta Love that it catapulted me from an excited English lady to a leg thrashing uber bitch.
Loved it.

Danny, who I would like to see in a birthday suit, sang like he had a golf ball in his mouth, it was earthy, manly and sexy. His scream at the end had my eyes popping and other parts of my anatomy swelling too, so that pleased me no end. Yes, I adore Danny's big vocals.

Kris, sang. He's somehow managed to creep into the final by edging out rocker kid Allison. Kris to me is a wannabee of the first order, he's competent and good looking but lost his balls in the playground. No, not for me thank you darling.

The judges praised first-on-stage Adam, Simon Cowell bestowing on him a great compliment by suggesting that it was 'all over really'. How must Danny and Kris have felt on hearing that?
They liked Danny, but had reservations about his strangulated scream at the end, I have to admit it was odd, but he laughed it off, like a pro.
Allison, sang a Janis Joplin song and I thought did an excellent job. The American people however thought differently. They kicked her out on her ass. For a seventeen year old she was amazingly confident and had a lovable sense of humour. She'll go far. Only hope she doesn't burn out too soon.


So after this weeks show I will be ecstatic, very happy and over the moon, if super camp Adam and guttural Danny make it to the final.
If Kris messes up my weekend, I'll forget I'm a lady.

Post-Work Thoughts

Beans.
American Idol. Post coming tomorrow.
Lip gloss. Fuchsia pink. Tomorrow for the hell of it.
Fairy cakes. Cute. Silly. Some with silver balls.
Early evening sunshine. So unlike my dismal morning. Brit wev at it's most mercurial.
Rosemary bush needs tinkering with.
Eurovision Song Contest on Saturday. Outrageousness fest.
Guiness. Straight. Not mixed with cider Sweetie.
Adam Lambert. A star is born. To brighten our lives.
Face lifts. Proper one. Sellotape doesn't hold.
Danny Gokey. Wish I was locked in a cupboard with him.
Neck rub. Creaked at three. Hard work is ageing me.
Beans.

Shaheen admired by the Queen

Hair was cut Saturday tea time by the droning Lisa followed by two plates of Nasi Goreng and Britain's Got Talent.

The Nasi was superb likewise the very English show...There was a boy on there called Shaheen he was 12 years old and as he got into 'Valerie' Simon Cowell stopped him. 'Got another song you can sing?' he asked. The kid nodded and named some Michael Jackson song. The backing tape began, he started to sing. Screeches and screams from the audience. Teary mumsy looks from Miss Holden and triumphant grins from Mr Cowell. Me? I fell in love immediately of course. 'My God' I thought 'How on earth can a child with tender lungs, little clean winkle and a heart intact sing with the heart of a man? Beats me. But as the dark haired nipper with the sad knowing eyes gave us the big money note, I wondered where he was heading. Straight into cash filled arms of Simon I expect.

It was a good show and one which reminded me of old time British variety shows. Lots of medicre acts, glowing-in-the-dark outfits, squawking shining girls and a few top notch warblers. The only thing the show doesn't have is a Norman Wisdom, Bruce Forsyth or my favourite, Mr Jimmy Tarbuck. What it does have however are Anthony and Declan a.k.a Ant and Dec. They lark about in the wings like a couple of multi-millionaire schoolboys offering shoulders to Cowell whacked performers and smiling hugs to the successful. They're relaxed, slightly childish and bounce off each other rather like Morcambe and Wise did, but they're not Eric and Ernie and never will be, but for bonkers Britain's Got Talent they're ideal!

Yesterday was Sunday and I know that for three reasons.
1. I had a jammy bagel for breakfast.
2. I had a roast.
3. We watched American Idol.
Might as well give you a run down of what happened. Adam Lambert was outstanding. That's it. Although Danny Gokey had me slobbering over the screen, 16 year old Allison was good and Lil was better than last week but I'm still worried about her, I thought she had balls. The others? So so...
So the weekend was a mixture or a couple of little highs, a few hellish craters and a the consumption of a tube of Salt and Vinegar Pringles.
My hair looks great by the way.

Pork and The Kid Who Would Be King...

On the Horsehound menu today:
Sweet and Sour Pork. I'll add a few chunks of cucumber, some itsy bitsy slices of pineapple and a wacking great load of carrot and peppers.
Pancake Rolls. From Sainsburys. Decent enough dipped in a bowl of Chilli sauce.
Boiled Noodles. Drained and then tossed in Sesame oil. Not a lot mind you on account of my heart and exorbitant price of aforementioned oil.

To satisfy my one remaining sweet tooth:
A bar of Galaxy chocolate inlaid with almonds and raisins. This is much better than Cadburys Fruit and Nut.
To drink: Water and tea. My innards are delicate and therefore need cleansing by copious amounts of tap water and PG Tips.

Entertainment comes in the form of recorded coverage of American Idol. Where two of my favourites, Adam Lambert who reminds me of a young Elvis, and Danny Cokey who is just nice will be singing their tonsils out doing Motown classics under the smooth supervisory wing of Mr Smoky Robinson.

I so love A.I. it's the bigness and brashness of it I love, the host Mr Ryan Seacrest who will, from now on, be known as Brian Sea Cucumber is as squeaky clean as my kitchen knives and just as sharp. But I don't fancy him. After all that I feel a film is on the cards, probably the one I recorded last night, "The Edge" I think it's called. Anyway it has the divine Anthony Hopkins in, and that's good enough for me. I am not in love with him.


General stuff now.
My hair is looking a bit bouffant. And that is bad because it makes me act like a madam.
I bought a new secondhand jacket yesterday when out with my stitched skull mum. It's short, red and made in Paris and it cost £5. It reminds of the type of jacket Jackie Kennedy might have worn. I will avoid men named John...Ooops!
I have a new job. My second. I will be a Housekeeper to a business man who has a wicked sense of humour and a nice belly. He likes beef, chocolate, First World War poetry, God and money.
I think we'll get on.

That's enough from me.
More Monday.