No more hippy-hippy-shake-shake
The girl with the hippy-hippy-shake-shake has gone home, and she doesn’t care. Neither does Simon, which shows that it’s still his show. Big dog won’t allow no disrespect in his junk yard. With all the other things going terribly wrong in the world, I’m glad that we still have American Idol to sneer over. Puts things in an odd perspective.
Seriously, Megan Joy (Corkery) was fun to watch, and her song choices were never mundane. We’re now going to be forced into sending negative thought waves toward some of the more pompous survivors, now that they are eight. The last week went by very quickly. Other diversionary elements this evening included a visit from David Cook, which still showcased his mother, and an odd performance by Lady Gaga. She’s everywhere as of late, and I can’t wait for that season to end. Her videos have enough production to mask what is generic talent.
After a day and a half of waiting, our new TV was delivered this morning, and under the careful attention of son #2, the Ikea-like base was glued and screwed into a stable foundation for what isn’t really that big of a screen. I mean, we replaced an older tube monster that was 25 inches high with a LCD screen that is, give or take a pixel, 25 inches high. Wider isn’t everything. There are more inputs, but until we invest in the elusive home theatre sound system and newer DVD players it will remain unused potential. The older TV should go to a new home, despite its sixteen seasons of serving as a window to the world. I remember the day we bought it, because a visiting teacher got kidsitting duties while we bundled the baby and went shopping. Will new technologies last as long? I’m a doubter by nature.
