Fugmerican Ifugl

Much like the song Kara DioGuardi wrote for this season’s American Idol winner, her outfit isn’t very good:

I’m sure if GFY had a panel of judges, Randy Jackson would mutter something about how she did her thing, Kara herself would praise her own artistry (presumably for making her necklace out of a tree stump), dearly departed Paula would squeak something about unicorns and Simon would lean back in his chair and pronounce this dreadful. And I always agree with Simon.

On the other hand, at least she can — presumably — breathe/walk in this. Unlike other persons who hail from the once and future land of AI:

Dear sweet deliciously dim, suspiciously orange Paula. I can understand why you would be so seduced by a lacy black fishtail frock — one that reminds me of a doll my grandmother owned, a Spanish señora who, I presumed as a child, must have been a widow, because she wore a black lace dress and a full-on black lace mantilla. (You can imagine what happened to my Barbies when we went to over Grandma’s and Señora entered the mix. The havoc she wreaked!) And this dress, in fact, is so tight that Paula walked in it all night very much the way my Señora walked: Her handlers basically forced her to hop from place to place. (I do presume there was less havoc: Señora turned out to be a serial killer who married a series of Ken dolls and then threw them off the edge of the bed before leaving town with their money. This is what happens when you watch Dallas with your grandma as a child. You guys know what I mean. I read what you were doing with your own Barbies earlier this week when we were talking about Kristen Bell.) Honestly, now I’m kind of sad she didn’t wear a mantilla. That goes for Kara, too. Mantillas for everyone!