Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.
As I recapped my first episode of this show the other day, I thought to myself “Why would Paula open her show with a falling down drunk episode? How stupid is this woman?” Well, as it turns out, she’s in good falling down drunk company.
That was actually her second episode. Her first makes a Hell of a lot more sense, and she’s sober the entire time. Boooooooo! Ah, well. That doesn’t mean I had to be! Throw a couple back (you’ll need em) and join me for the first episode ever of my favorite new train wreck: Woooooah, Paula!Paula starts by introducing herself. She’s been entertaining people for over twenty years!! How? I don’t know, and she doesn’t elaborate, but I have to agree with her all the same. I’ve definitely been entertained.
Next, it’s time to meet her staff. There’s Steven Cojocaru, who does her hair and makeup. I usually turn the TV off every time Cojo comes on screen because he reminds me what horrible hair, makeup, and bad kidneys can do to a person, but for the sake of this recap, I’ll put up with his shrill ass. All I do is give, give, give!
Paula puts down her publicist, Jeff (up to now referred to as Manager Guy), every chance she gets and frankly I don’t blame her. When was the last time you read something good about Paula? Fire his useless ass already, girl! In the last episode I recapped (the not pilot, DOI) Jeff sat in the greenroom blabbing to the cameras while Paula had her most embarrassing and public drunken meltdown to date. He better hope she never sobers up, or his kids are gonna have to work their way through college.
Kiley is Paula’s wardrobe stylist, and I like her immediately because she admits early on that she sometimes sleeps in Paula’s closet. You have to wonder how many times she’s run into a tipsy Paula in there and had a girl camping night. Awww! Girl power!
To round out her little family are her kids! Alarmed? Don’t call Social Services. Call Animal Control.
As we learned from the second episode, Paula’s TIIIRRREDD! Today is no different. She’s going to the Grammys, then to Philly for her 1AM slot on the QVC channel (where she hocks her Ginormous Clunky Jewelry), and then she’s off to rehab. One of these pieces of info is false. Can you guess which one?
Kiley shows Paula her fabulous loaned jewelry for the Grammys, and immediately one dog runs off with a necklace and another eats a ring. Thank goodness it’s all costume stuff. Wait. It’s worth a couple mil? Woops.
Paula’s producing a movie based on the Bratz dolls, and she’s also designing all of the costumes. Well, she’s paying someone to design them and taking the money and the credit, but why split hairs? She brings in Cojo to check out her “work” and he smiles big. Wowieeee, Paula! She tells us that she put all her money into these designs months ago, but now the producers aren’t returning her calls. Ouch. People can be rude assholes when they aren’t on your payroll.
Time to get dressed for the red carpet. Cojo tells us it takes 4 hours to get Paula into makeup. Yikes. I hope we get to see some shots of what she looks like without all that gunk on her face.
She tries to figure out why she’s always on the worst dressed list while Cojo says “that’s beautiful!” to every tacky ass dress she points at. Man, did Charo die? Because it looks like someone made a killing at her estate sale.
The maid is outside cleaning up the dog poop and Paula shouts out about how sorry she is. She insists that the poop is too big to be from any of her dogs. Stop digging right there, Paula. It’s a late night flashback no one wants to see. The maid stops to listen, but can’t understand a word Paula’s saying. At least it’s not just me.
During hour three of face molding, Publicist Guy is on the phone with Lawyer Guy. The Bratz people called. They want the wardrobe specs sent over right now so they can “integrate them” into the film. This most likely means that there’s only a day of shooting left, so they better get the boss’ ugly threads on the bony cast members before the shit hits the fan. Publicist Guy relays this to Paula, and she has a fit. How could these people be so disrespectful? She’s put her heart and soul into this project and they treat her like this? No one understands brats like she does! Agreed. He goes back into his office and wishy washies his way through the call. Nothing’s really settled, but it seems so far that that’s what Publicist Guy does. He doesn’t settle everything. Nice work!
Cojo riles up Paula even more by telling her the other producers are just trying to beat her down and she repeats it and stares into her own eyes through the mirror. “They’re trying to beat me down!” Yes, Paula. You’re the Rosa Parks of our time.
She ponders over all the reasons she’s only won one Grammy. Unfortunately, Grammys aren’t won with popularity, or she would have zillions of them! They are won with talent. None of her staff says anything. Ah, what does she care? “The last time I recorded an album, Bill and Hillary were having sex.” HAHAAA! Good one, P.
After what seems like 12 hours of ranting to Cojo, torturing her maid and making out with her dogs, Paula is dressed and ready to hit the red carpet. Before she leaves, she needs the approval of her maid. Smart move. Maids will tell you like it is. My childhood maid, Romana, was the first person to ever tell me what a fat ass I was. I actually had no idea I was supposed to hate myself until that first day of fourth grade. Thanks, Romana! Aw, memories. Marina doesn’t give a crap one way or the other what Paula wears, and why should she? She’s just spent the day shoveling up dog poo. I hope Marina learns fluent English soon so she can stop nodding and smiling and tell Paula what’s really on her mind.
Paula runs into Joan and Melissa on the red carpet and gets her wish. They don’t trash her! YAY. That said, these three women standing together…wow.
It’s nine thirty one and twenty two seconds and a fourth of a millisecond, and Paula’s staff is in the limo somewhere worried because they don’t know where she is. One assistant’s all “OMG where is she? We’re gonna be soooo late!” and then her other assistant’s like “holy crap OMG I dunno where is she?” and then the other one’s all “holy mother of all that’s good. Where is she?”
Commercial. Holy crap OMG I’m on the edge of my seat. Where is she?
Wandering around downtown in her Valentino gown. Cars stop and ghetto guys give her shout outs. “We love you, Paula!” “You’re forever my girl!” She waves and trips all over herself until she finds her girls. She tells them this is the first time she wore something to the Grammys that got a good reception. Melissa said “nice dress”, but Joan just smiled tightly. “I wanted to say, hey, Joan, what doctor’s your face wearing?” LOL, Paula. That’s twice! And she hasn’t been wasted yet this episode. Hey! Wait a second! Stop wasting my time!
And then the limo crashes into a fiery blaze. Nope. And then, Paula discovers she has uterine cancer. Nope. WORSE. Her assistants have forgotten to pack sweatpants for the plane ride! The terrorists won! Paula isn’t happy, so she looks at the camera like “can you believe these retards?” while she makes them pull over and search the trunk for something breezy. If she’s not comfie on the plane, she won’t sleep, and we know what happens when Paula doesn’t get her sleep.
Hard to sell Ginormous Clunky jewelry when you’re wasted on the floor. Then no one can find her id and she gives the camera more “everyone around me is mentally handicapped” looks. Um, carry your own id, ass. With 14 minutes and 36 seconds to spare, she gets her butt out of the limo and into the airport. Old tacky women across America didn’t even know how close they came to not having the opportunity to buy their huge costume jewelry. Crisis averted!
Woops, spoke too soon. A whole team of Ginormous Clunky Jewelry specialists await Paula at the QVC Headquarters. After hugging them all and telling them what stars they all are, Paula loses her shit. This isn’t the jewelry she designed! They try to calmly explain to her that watches that make you fly and earrings that turn you invisible are impossible to manufacture, but Paula’s not having it. She doesn’t really have an intelligent argument for the team, so she just repeats “no” over and over again and glares at the camera.
One lady nods her head like she’s dealing with a two year old and assures Paula that “the QVC audience will get it,” which cracks me up. The QVC audience so doesn’t get it, which keeps Paula Abdul employed. Shut up and take the checks, woman. Meanwhile, Publicist Guy plays paper soccer on the conference table and ignores everything going on. Paula’s looking like a real asshole right now on national TV, Publicist Guy. Hope you scored a point over there. Dumbass.
Fifteen minutes til’ show time, and Paula’s telling QVC that it’s not fair for them to expect huge numbers this time, because American Idol’s not on the air. It’s not fair? Um, we’re investing a lot of money in your crap enamel “dream”, sell it or bail, loozah. Of course no one says this, but I hear them thinking it from here.
Out in the lobby, Publicist Guy’s telling the cameras how much Paula loves being creative. Then maybe she should try that for awhile, instead of stamping her name on other people’s designs and making life hell for everyone around her. He hopes that she sells a lot, or she’ll be crushed. And we all know what happens when Paula’s crushed…
All of Paula’s items sell out! Who the hell is watching this channel? Oh, this is who.
God bless America. Back in the limo on the way to the airport, she congratulates her assistants on a job well done. Pause. You did a good job, too, Publicist Guy!
Coming up next week, Paula cries and cries and cries. Tune in!