Gotta Get Me One Them Thar DVR Thingies

Sunday, after Conference, of course, I announced to Plantboy that I was going to watch the Academy of Country Music Awards. My palms broke out in a sweat as I said it, with just a trace of defiance. In typical Plantboy fashion, he just shrugged and said, "Okay."

"You aren't bothered by that?"

"Why should I be bothered?"

"I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that I like country music."

"It's not a revelation; half the presets in the car are on country music."

Having no answer for that, I nodded sheepishly. I'd like to say, in my defense, that in our fair city, there is a dearth of decent music stations. In Utah, I'm all about 101.9 The End--classic alternative with new and interesting music thrown in as well. The DJ's are also hilarious. But here! Where do I begin? The only stations playing any NEW music are the two country stations, the single hard rock station (yes, Metallica is STILL recording music) and the two rap stations. There are at least two awesome 80's/90's stations. Which is probably about 1 1/2 too many. There is another station that plays a mixture of classic rock, raggae music, and any U2 music recorded before 1995. And about 8 Christian Rock stations. We must have the highest Christian music to Christian ratio anywhere in the country. Texas included.

When 8:00 rolled around, the kids all tugged snug in their beds, I turned on the awards. I knew it was off to a bad start when Rascal Flatts was headlining. Plantboy sat on the couch opposite, "You mean you are going to watch with me?" I said, with no small amount of anxiety. Plantboy can be very snarky when he takes a mind to be.

Shrug. "Where else am I going to go?" My turn to shrug. Excellent point. A moment later he said, "Why don't they just take the Twinkies OFF the tour bus?"

"You know, he does kind of look like Beaker."

"From The Muppets?"

"Do you know a lot of other Beakers?"

I immediately checked the TV guide. Discovery Channel was premiering a three-part show called "Who Was Jesus?" that looked very interesting. I flipped over to it, grateful for the back up plan. It turned out that the back up plan actually became the main plan. The ACM's were really only bearable in short bursts and as often as I tuned them in, I couldn't help but FLIP right back to the Discovery Channel. What is it about famous people that when they all get together in one place they just look ridiculous? They get so hyped up and self-important it is laughable. Here are snippets from other moments at my house Sunday night:

Plantboy said, "How old is Reba again?"

"Um . . . like fifty-something."

"She has definitely had some work done."

This was not the first comment about 'having some work done,' nor was Reba anywhere near the oldest woman in the bunch to go under the knife.

Deep into the second hour I said, "Now, what is that on the ground behind Carrie Underwood?"

"All that maroon fabric?"

"Yeah what is . . . IS. THAT. HER. DRESS?"

"There are at least 20 yards of fabric there."

"There is no way she moved in that dress. She walked out there in her undies and a crane had to lift her into it."

"She IS really pretty though."

FLIP.

And speaking of Carrie Underwear, I think she changed clothes almost as many times as Reba did. There were never any shots of her in the audience, except right before she won an award, because she was always back stage changing clothes. Her white halter dress was quite pretty, but she had to do some quick hitching under the armpits during one trip up the stairs because she just about had a wardrobe malfunction. I have to say, I think such a malfunction would have made Kenny Chesney very happy. He was sitting next to her and was quick to offer a lingering hug every time she won an award. I think he was happier about her bare back than even the prospect of winning himself. Too bad for Kenny, hugging Carrie was the only prize he won all night. Maybe the Academy has finally figured out that rum-soaked Jimmy Buffet wannabees are not actually country stars.

She IS pretty. I think this unfortunate photo makes her look a bit like she's going to fly someplace.

At one point the (great) Keith performed. His wife tried to look human as she moved her head in time to the music. She nearly succeeded. Plantboy said, "Did she just smile?"

"Yes, I think she did."

"Does her plastic surgeon allow her to do that?" (And note to Nicole: next time you are out in public with your short hubby, wear flats or something. You look like an Amazon woman.)

Shrug. "This song sounded a little off on the Ellen show the other day; I think they had a bad sound check or something."

"Um . . . it sounds a little off tonight. He is really not hitting those high notes. He sounds like he's been on tour every day for the past year."

"His album came out this week and he's had a bunch of publiicity appearances: maybe it is the strain of all that . . ."

"I think he's drinking again. Ooo. . . there's another botched note."

FLIP.

When this band came on,

Plantboy said, "That is like the worst hat ever."

"Didn't you say that about Toby Keith?"

"Yes."

"What about that guy from Sugarland?"

"It's a toss up. And what is up with the face of that girl from Sugarland. She just looks weird."

"Like she stole all of the facial expressions that Nicole Kidman can't make."

I couldn't bring myself to watch Miranda Lambert, but I found this photo. Though she seems nice and smiley, I can't help but wonder if she's thinking, "Who told that jerk in the band that a mohawk was okay? He'll take all of the attention away from me. Me. ME!"

Billy Ray Cyrus got up to (NOT sing, praise be to the Heavens) announce his daughter and Plantboy had to go get some popcorn at that point. I called out, "You know, I'm not sure his new look IS an upgrade from the the white sneakers and mullet days."

No answer.

And then, Miley Cyrus. Oh. The. Miley. Like a full body dry heave set to music. Whomever is mentoring this girl really needs to give her some advice about the headbanging. Or if she is going to headbang she at least needs a barrette for her unfortunately-lengthed bangs. Is there non one in her life honest enough to tell her that sitting down while raising one arm and clutching at your chest with the other makes you look more like a Solid Gold dancer than a superstar. Of course, her father is the one credited with the mentoring and he gave us the line dance for "Achy Breaky Heart." I don't think he is going to be stifling Miss Montana's creativity any time soon.

Plantboy made it back with the popcorn just in time to miss her; I had been too mesmerized by horror to remember to flip the channel. However, he did not miss the beginning of "Johnny and June" sung by Heidi Newfield. This song is, apparently, about wanting to be in a totally dysfunctional relationship. Which is all the rage right now. (Read: Twilight) I said, "Is that an evening gown? Over jeans?"

"I don't know; but I'm pretty sure she's a transvestite."

FLIP.

This guy won song of the year. It is a song about black and white photos and there was a weird camera trick that made him look like he was black and white during the verses. It was creepy really. He is only 25 even though he looks like a grizzled old man. When you add in the black and white effect it's like watching Merle Haggard star in a remake of The Ring.

Jamie Foxx was asked to present an award. Since there is now a token Black man singing country music, the powers that be decided to actually invite a Black presenter this year. He was funny-ish and then he said, "Times, they be a changin'. There's a black man runnin' this country now! Let's give it up for my man, Barack Obama." There was a smattering of tepid applause, almost as hostile as the response he'd get if he'd called for the audience to take off their cowboy hats. I'm sure Mr. Obama will get over the slight; I think the MPAA voted to carve his face in the moutain behind the Hollywood sign just last week.

John Rich sang a song called "Shutting Detroit Down." About halfway through it, Plantboy said, "Is this a real song?"

"A real song?"

"Yeah, like on the radio?"

"Yes."

"It sounds like he wrote it in the car on the way over to the show."

I started to explain about how the song made sense from the viewpoint of middle America--country music's demographic, and how it no doubt resonated with a lot of people blah, blah, blah.

"Yeah, but it still sounds like he wrote it like ten minutes ago."

He has a point.

All in all, it was a good time at the ACM's. There were actually some moments that were hard to mock:

For all my dislike of Trace Adkins, he stifled his inner porn star to reasonably pass for a class act when he sang with the Westpoint choir. The song was called, "Til the Last Shot's Fired" and the proceeds from its sales are going to help veterans. He described the song as "haunting." I agree completely, but in a very good way. Not like an I-see-dead-people thing.

Reba's timing was spot on in her joke about Willie Nelson and Michael Phelps starting a band to cover the music of the Doobie Brothers.

Though his belt buckle was absolutely ridiculous, even Plantboy had to admit that he'd never seen a better looking piece of clothing than the jacket Matthey McCounaghey was wearing. His award presentation was really funny in a blue-collar-comedy-tour sort of way.

Martina McBride looked like a Greek goddess in her luscious purple gown. She is getting better with age, I think, and doesn't even look like she's been too worked on. Unfortunately it seems that no one took a picture of said gown and so you'll just have to take my word for it.

Brad Paisley was sitting on a ratty couch somewhere via satellite. At first I thought his being at the undisclosed location was like a Dick Cheney thing: you know, if something terrible happened at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas and all of the country music royalty was wiped out, there would still be someone left to carry on. But no, his wife is due to have a baby any minute and he didn't want to miss it. He was sitting next to a really old tiny guy and at one point said the baby HAD been born and that it was a Benjamin Button kind of a situation. Very funny.

It turns out that Taylor Swift can appear out of thin air (Plantboy: What DOES David Copperfield think he's doing?! He's just waving his arms around. And THAT is the worst hat ever.) The country wunderkind can also play the piano. I really like the song she did, but perhaps she needs to stop listening to Miley's advice about a little bit of head banging improving any number. Even a ballad.

Lady Antebellum sang a great new song called "I Run To You." I think they are quite wonderful and hope to see them start beating the pants of Brooks and Dunn and Sugarland in the coming years for best duo. The only really unfortunate thing was that they were both wearing skinny jeans. He looked, well, gay; and she looked, well, fat.

They are also giving a humanitarian award annually now to honor a singer who has done a lot for charity. After all, charity work is all about getting recognized. The award went to LeAnn Rimes. The following photo makes it look like she was nominated in the most frontless dress category, but not so. Though I think several of the women missed the memo about the discontinuation of the category, because there were a couple of others who were missing the entire center piece from the middle of their tops. I'm just not sure I could ever really get into an event where bras are optional.

The upshot of this ridiculously lengthy (and ridiculous) post is that I could have watched all I cared to see in about 15 minutes. With the DVR, I could have also watched Discovery's three part documentary in about 2 1/2 hours, on any night of the week that I wanted to. That $15 a month investment is starting to look better all the time. With all the time I save I could, I don't know, watch more TV!