Paula Abdul straight up
June 27, 2007
DOUG ELFMAN
I don't want to tell you how to watch a TV show. But think of Paula Abdul's new reality show "Hey Paula" as an expose about a woman who worked very hard for fame and fortune, then turned into a spoiled ass.
It's remarkable the "American Idol" judge, choreographer and faded pop singer let Bravo film her daily life. But celebreality shows are Trojan horses. They may seem like vanity projects to stars (Anna Nicole Smith, etc.). Usually, though, they're faux-documentaries of nastiness set to uptempo music.
Here's a scene. Abdul gets angry in her stretch limo, en route to the airport, because she's sitting in her $12,500 dress, and she wants her sweatpants. But instead, her assistants only brought a regular outfit for poor little Paula to change into.
"It's so important that I have something comfortable to wear on a flight," Abdul says. "So every time I fly, I specifically ask my assistants to bring a nice pair of sweatpants." Then she jokes to her lowly peon that she wants to take an outfit and "shove it down your throat."
Yes, Abdul is pretty and smiles a lot, and this is a type of humor, but she seems like an ingrate. And when was the last time your annoyed boss threatened to stuff a coat down your throat? If it was today, you might do well to look for new work.
Abdul's routines of privilege aren't surprising, but her exasperated expectations of entitlement are. She's not sure she'll make that flight, because she needs her ID and -- she grumbles with rash irritation -- "I don't know where they put it."
I ask you, readers, do you know where your driver's license is? Or do you have aides who carry it around?
Her huge ego gets constant strokes. While she walks down the street in that $12,500 dress, a guy screams out that she's a "legend." When business associates crinkle one of her plans, her stylist pampers her, "I think it's your good looks. They're jealous."
Abdul, 45, is no O.J. Simpson, but I can't help but think back to when he was acquitted and flew to Florida to golf, and gawkers merrily asked him for his autograph. What I'm saying to Paula is, don't take flattery too personally. Even O.J. has fans.
And I'm not even a Paula Abdul hater. I enjoyed her "American Idol" wackiness way, way more before I watched "Hey Paula."
The show itself is interesting only from the viewpoint that it's akin to a "60 Minutes" piece examining her lifestyle. Otherwise, quite a few down moments simply follow the aides chatting boringly about, say, packing for her flight.
According to previews for the rest of the season, she will complain, "My romantic life is a horror movie." No, really? For whom?
DOUG ELFMAN
I don't want to tell you how to watch a TV show. But think of Paula Abdul's new reality show "Hey Paula" as an expose about a woman who worked very hard for fame and fortune, then turned into a spoiled ass.
It's remarkable the "American Idol" judge, choreographer and faded pop singer let Bravo film her daily life. But celebreality shows are Trojan horses. They may seem like vanity projects to stars (Anna Nicole Smith, etc.). Usually, though, they're faux-documentaries of nastiness set to uptempo music.
Here's a scene. Abdul gets angry in her stretch limo, en route to the airport, because she's sitting in her $12,500 dress, and she wants her sweatpants. But instead, her assistants only brought a regular outfit for poor little Paula to change into.
"It's so important that I have something comfortable to wear on a flight," Abdul says. "So every time I fly, I specifically ask my assistants to bring a nice pair of sweatpants." Then she jokes to her lowly peon that she wants to take an outfit and "shove it down your throat."
Yes, Abdul is pretty and smiles a lot, and this is a type of humor, but she seems like an ingrate. And when was the last time your annoyed boss threatened to stuff a coat down your throat? If it was today, you might do well to look for new work.
Abdul's routines of privilege aren't surprising, but her exasperated expectations of entitlement are. She's not sure she'll make that flight, because she needs her ID and -- she grumbles with rash irritation -- "I don't know where they put it."
I ask you, readers, do you know where your driver's license is? Or do you have aides who carry it around?
Her huge ego gets constant strokes. While she walks down the street in that $12,500 dress, a guy screams out that she's a "legend." When business associates crinkle one of her plans, her stylist pampers her, "I think it's your good looks. They're jealous."
Abdul, 45, is no O.J. Simpson, but I can't help but think back to when he was acquitted and flew to Florida to golf, and gawkers merrily asked him for his autograph. What I'm saying to Paula is, don't take flattery too personally. Even O.J. has fans.
And I'm not even a Paula Abdul hater. I enjoyed her "American Idol" wackiness way, way more before I watched "Hey Paula."
The show itself is interesting only from the viewpoint that it's akin to a "60 Minutes" piece examining her lifestyle. Otherwise, quite a few down moments simply follow the aides chatting boringly about, say, packing for her flight.
According to previews for the rest of the season, she will complain, "My romantic life is a horror movie." No, really? For whom?
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