Pardon me while I rant...

...about Tatiana.

(If you don't know who she is, you need not read further. You're safe. And very, very lucky. We'll see ya next time.)

I like to think of myself as a fairly easy-going, laid-back, get-along-with-everybody type of person. I do, however, have issues with people who are insincere, self-absorbed and high-maintenance.

Enter Tatiana.

Oy. When we first met her in Puerto Rico, she was carrying her own press book. Music, her Glamor Shots-type photos, everything was on display in her little 3 ring binder. Not a good sign. When she talked, in perfect English, it was all incredibly dramatic...like someone reciting lines at a bad dinner theatre performance. She'd say a sentence (dramatically) and flip her hair. Add to it an incredibly grating fake twitter of a laugh, which she emitted every 3 seconds. Drama, hair-flip, twitter. Drama, hair-flip, twitter. Gah! Make it stop!

When she arrested her twittering in order to sing, you know what? She sang. Surprisingly well.

Damn.

The judges passed her through to Hollywood. Oh god, here comes the hysterical crying-twitter, "Oh you don't understand! This is my dream! (sob) I love you all!" She screamed as she was escorted off the audition floor.

The judges dimissed her with a, "Yeah well, we love you, too, dear. NEXT!"

Hollywood. Well, God love the poor other contestants who had to deal with her...they deserve medals. They were square in the path of an F-5 Hurricane Tatiana. During the group round, she wreaked havoc wherever she went. If she didn't get her self-serving way (wha-? Her competition were looking out for themselves? (Sob) They just don't understand!), she threw a full-on grand mal tantrum. Shocking. I know. Oh, and she sings a Whitney Houston song. Well.

Damn.

They separate the kids into three rooms (two rooms go on, one room goes home). And who, pray tell, gets shifted at the last minute from one room to the next? Yup. That's her. On her knees, whimpering-twittering loudly. Aaaand she's through, America.

Well, of course she is.

So, she makes it to the Top 36. Wheee - lucky us. And she sings the same Whitney song. Predictably well.

Damn. At least Simon threw us a bone and called her a drama queen to her face. THANK YOU.

Tragically, America didn't vote for her. Evidently, we collectively didn't understand her and DENIED her her dream. And as Danny Gokey took the stage to sing his song in triumph, the cameras locked on her and her mistery and we got to revel in her sorrow. Awww, I'm sorry, Tatiana.  I understood you. I really loved you. I hope you recognize this plastic adoration for what it truly is. Don't let the stagedoor hit you in the ass on the way out, toots.

We got to relax and enjoy a couple weeks of drama-free singing; hell, we even got to embrace Jorge and his Puerto Rican tears of Spanish joy...and then, just as we had purged our minds of Whatsherface, the world collapsed. She's been selected to be in the Wild Card round. This is a joke, right? Right?

Bitch is back like Jack Nicholson at the door, all right. Why do the reality gods curse us so?

Now, being the aforementioned easy-going person that I am, I'm also an eternal optimist. My servos naturally default to a "glass is half-full" setting. I can do this. I can work with this...yes! I've got it. Instead of focusing on her singing, I must focus on the sheer pleasure I will bask in when she gets her dreams smashed, yet again. There's no doubt that she will crash and burn in the most craptaculary dramatic way. Oh yeah, this is gonna be gooooood.

So here we are on Wild Card night, and it's her turn - nearly the last one because, you know, it's more dramatic that way. And in her pre-stage interview, she unleashes her SPANISH ACCENT! OMG, this is even better than I had dared to dream. She, in her junior-high, drama-queen, me-me-me mind has convinced herself that she can whip out her Puerto Rican membership card and play it. It worked for Jorge, why not her?  Oh yeah, ¡me gusta! Next, she'll be telling me that her mother just died and that's she's really been blind all along, but hiding it well. Then Ryan introduces her, whilst on his knees...nice joke at her expense. Hell yeah, I'll take it. As I'm finishing my cigarette from that display, what does she choose to sing? No, really, it can't be...the same Whitney song for the THIRD time. Holy Mother of Reality...it's too much! She's actually set herself up to get her drama queen ass royally served by the judges. Simon can barely contain himself as he asked her why she sang the same song - again. She whines about getting rights to songs and he promptly calls bullshit on her. She then gets called out on her fake accent by the other judges. Suh-weet. Finally, she gets on her knees to beg (because it's dramatic, natch) which then triggers another fabulous display of Seacrest awkwardness. We've hit the mother-lode, folks. I take a celebratory drink.

And so we get to see her booted (American Idol needs to issue an apology to Megan, who had to stand with Tatiana for the results) AGAIN. And what does an indulgent, self-aborbed, high-maintenance drama queen do when she's given the Idol Boot of Shame once and for all? You guessed it. She dropped to her knees in front of the judges and whimper-twittered (or in Tatiana's case, The Standard No. 8 Position). And, as the veritable cherry on top of the "Adventures of Tatiana," we are treated to a one-time only Paula-Slam, “It’s not just going to be singing for you, you’re going to be an actress, too.”You know it's bad when Paula scores on you – while you're wearing your Paula Abdul "Reach for the Stars" bracelet. NICE!

Adios, Tatiana. Don't let the stagedoor hit you in the ass on the way out, toots.

Comments

[Crazy Aunt Karen]

Oh my, that was so awesome you made me cry. But seriously, Beej, don't hold back next time; get it all out.