In Paris, there are special occasions called “Le Nuit Des Musées,” where all of the gorgeous museums are opened up for free late into the night. You can peruse the Pompidou after midnight if you’re of a mind too or see the Rodin gardens by moonlight. Lets take a moment for my favorite Absolutely Fabulous quote: Do you need to take a Pompi-poo in the Louvre? HA! Makes me laugh every time.

When Jessica and I were in Paris two years ago, we were going to go look at a few museums, but she was in no mood to do this. Jessica isn’t one for culture, she’d rather eat soup and watch television. In the end, that’s what we did and it was infinitely better than whatever may have occurred during Museum Night. We sat on our asses eating soup and dying over Eurovision. It was amazing. It was more than amazing. I can’t even explain it — I still get chills thinking of how magnificently campy the whole night was with Jedward singing about lipstick, the host Anke being carried around because her dress was too cumbersome, the insane belief that the French might win, the dwarves on unicycles. It was too much. I was immediately obsessed and have continued ever since.

Last year, I watched a terrible stream online, but it was worth it. I’m still pissed that Turkey didn’t win with their bat wings and boats and creepy songs. It was amazing. Let’s take a look at what is my favorite entry of all time:

This year, and I’m so excited about it, Eurovision is streaming the show online officially and it’s live. It actually just started. I’m playing it through my big ass television and this is the best damn day of my life. Oh my sweet Jesus. I’m going to be talking you through it. Next year, you’re all going to watch and you will never ever regret the madness. We should think up a drinking game, reader. A shot for every tragic ballad? A shot for each key change? A shot for each poor joke? A shot per kilt? Here we go!

There is a caterpillar crawling through the Gare du Nord…don’t squish it…thank goodness, it made it to Sweden where it has become a gorgeous butterfly.

A choir is singing the anthem, “We Write the Story.” Cheesy electric pop madness! It’s like a Disney park parade. The singers are entering as if it’s the Olympics. Amazeballs. Look at all the slutty dresses and Eastern European men in vests! So many goatees! An abundance of kilts.


I am obsessed with this year’s host Petra Mede. She is wearing the most ridiculous pink gown.


Eurovision was originally meant to reunite a war-torn Europe after the Great War through the power of song. Love. Who knew?

They talking about a live stream in Australia — uh, hello? Here I am in America, too. Talk about me in my elegant lounge fangirling over the broadcast.

2013-05-18 13.53.05

I love how long everything takes because it’s all translated from dreadfully accented English to beautifully accented French.

The countries are starting!


Bored. Why do you do this to me, my beloved France? Pop rock is never going to win this contest. And what’s with that mascara? Did she use the entire tube? Give us dancing mimes! She’s shouting at us. Eeek! Non, merci.


A man with poorly groomed facial hair has to tell us something that’s been on his mind for far too long. What can it be? Ah, it’s the fact that he can’t sing. If I get this right, he calls one of his shoes love and the other…Spain? I must have misunderstood. He keeps doing that thing where you subtly lift your shirt to show your abs…but no abs. Oh, not Spain, he said pain. Why does he call his shoes anything, though?


Eastern European ridiculousness. Buff twinks in cut off shirts. The singer has her hair molded into what appears a wave. I don’t understand a word of Moldovan. Her hair is causing a shadow over her face, this amuses me. Now her dress has lit up. That seems impractical. Now she’s growing taller — quite the magic dress. It’s on flames! I wonder what this song is about? I’m confused by all of that.

The whistling music during the interludes is already driving me mad.


Yes! Finally crazy pop! She’s getting married in a punk rock wedding dress with platform pink heels. Wedding bells used in a pop song, yes please. Backup singers are in what appear to be red leather aprons. Singer is being hoisted in the air by gentlemen in purple tuxedos and masks. “Uh oh, uh oh, oh ding dong.” Direct quote that. Now she’s threatening the person marrying her to show up at the church or she will find them any way she can. IT WAS A LESBIAN MARRIAGE EQUALITY SONG! Sweet lord, that was perfect. Give them points!


Get off the stage! The guitarist had a huge smile that faded when she began to sing. Oh this is bad. Finally over.

The Queen is tweeting hilariously. Not the actual queen, mind you, a parody. We’re of a similar mind when it comes to Eurovision reviews.



So dramatic. What language is he singing in? That’s English? The Justin Bieber swoop is over, dear. Wouldn’t you get some tooth whitener before this? The backup dancers are poorly shuffling across the stage holding their vaginas. I’m confused again. His eyes just got big and crazy looking. Key change. Getting a bit better. In the end, no.


Her hair is so smooth. It looks like plastic. Why are we in black and white? Pretty voice, but this is endlessly dull. Perfect song for a pee break, excuse me.


[Couldn’t find a video from today’s show.]

Giant disco ball that broke open to reveal a hooker in sequined dress. Loving it. Eastern Europe just seems like more fun. I need to do more push-ups. My arms don’t look like those dancers. They play to the rhythm of a cha-cha? I don’t even care. The singer looks a bit panicked by the disco ball drums that have shown up. Ridiculous choreography.


Ukuleles and a vest? The singer is smiling so hard it must hurt. Stop it. He’s skipping while singing about a boring fellow named Jeremy. I think I have his outfit. Must resist wearing it. The song has devolved into something that seems to be about stalking. I can’t really understand the lyrics. Oh, the guitarist is cute. People in Malta seem nice. I should go to there.


Pretty song, but soooooooooo boring. It’s supposed to be about the world coming together and stuff, but Russia is one of the most homophobic nations on earth…so…huh? No points for you, plus that dusty pink dress is an international disaster.


Cascade, could be good. Mullet dress. Discotheque jam. Pretty awful, but she seemed proud of herself.


His eyebrows are the size of zucchinis. I do appreciate a nice scarf on a man. The keyboardist looks stoned. Is it a denim scarf? So much denim. I kind of like it. The denim, mind you, the song is like a slow rock ballad. No thank you. Synchronized bowing was rather nice.

Interlude One:

This wonderfully awful comedian, Lynda Woodruff, is taking us on a tour of Sweden. Horrible comedy in the best way. Stockholm looks gorgeous. I’ve not yet, been, and that’s a shame. I kind of love her.

Oh, Petra, that dress is really awful!

Back to the music.

The Netherlands:

It hurts, stop! God, this is depressing. She keeps smirking while singing a song that one would expect to hear at a funeral. “Birds fall down to the rooftop. Out of the sky like raindrops.” What now?



I’m living for Romania. Give them all my points! ALL MY POINTS! Opera singing vampire singing in falsetto! Huge collar covered in sequins! Pomade overload! Half naked demons(?) have erupted from the floor as the guy sings in a tone only dogs can hear. This is what Eurovision is all about. Give them all my points. Please let them win! Smoke and fire and a techno track, this is heaven.

United Kingdom:

Not another ballad…ugh. Pick it up Bonnie Tyler! What happened to her? Oh no. I can’t watch this, I wonder why Jedward didn’t represent Ireland this year. I’ll never stop loving those two. Is Bonnie wearing a tattered cape? She’s into it, but it’s just not going anywhere.


Less attractive and heftier brother of One Direction’s Louis? Trying to process and understand his tunic. Failing to do so. Backup dancers are drumming their pubic region…? I can say with some confidence we won’t be returning to Sweden next year.


Why is there a hipster at a chariot race. Do they even know what their culture is? Do any of us? I find them so confusing. Get a new beanie, bitch! I want his glasses. He looks very uninterested in being there. Kind of like he just got picked up off of the street. I know he’s not saying it, but the only phrase I get out of this song is “danke schoen.” Is there no time limit?


The audience goes mad for a flute. It is good fluting. They don’t cheer when she’s singing, only when the guy plays his flute. I wonder what this is about? Wasn’t all that great.


It looks freezing in Iceland! Still someplace I’d like to visit, but #totesbrrrr Their song is like a gorgeous lullaby, but it’s Eurovision, Thor! I don’t know what his name is, but he looks like a Thor with his flowing blonde hair. It’s rather pretty hair…looks just like Jennifer Aniston’s.


Singer constantly and dramatically turns head to the camera. As my beloved Jennifer Saunders so wisely commented:


For some reason there is a gentleman in a glass box that alternates between exactly mimicking the singer’s well-practiced camera nods and losing his shit and madly flailing about, which is dangerous when you’re trapped in a glass box. Not a bad song, really. Too much smizing!


Song is titled “Alcohol is Free” and there is another ukulele. Is this the best they could come up with, really? The kilts have come out…hello. Obsessed with the accordion player. Not ashamed. Perhaps I need to visit the Greek isles? Alcohol can be quite pricy, actually? Ever picked up a bottle of Chambord?


Ukraine's Zlata Ognevich is carried on by a giant. That's got to be worth a few points.

Singer was just carried in by what appears to be an overdressed sumo wrestler with a feather in his hair. Curious. Decent song about what I believe was gravity. Not my favorite, though.


Pretty boy needs to take off that suit and start dancing. Why so many effing ballads? God, that was dreadful.


Finally something amazing! Dark pop music, gorgeous braid, decent voice. Liking this one. Dramatic string section. Dancing! More rhythmic motion, really, but a marked improvement over Italy. That was pretty good!


Le sigh…yet another dramatic ballad. The singers look like a couple that just got into prom court. Pretty and all, but yawnsville.


Where are my Jedward? The shirtless drummers are little consolation. Decent song, the usual shit about dancing until the morning light as if it were the last night. How many times are we going to sing about the apocalypse? So passé these days. We survived the Mayan nonsense, we aren’t going anywhere until global warming or nuclear warfare end everything. These songs are always supposed to be positive, but I can never get over the pessimistic attitude. Nice song and I like his leather pants. Are they comfortable. I imagine not.

That ends the competition and now it’s time for the voting interlude. Last year’s winner comes out to do a medley for us.

Goodness, Loreen, you look pissed in your feather dress. Sing “Euphoria,” we don’t know this song. Goodness, she’s taken flight and still looks upset. Cheer up, my dear. She’s finally singing our song. We going up up up up up upupupupupupup.

The review clips are making me grow fonder of Belgium and Norway.

What is it you’re wearing Petra? A short fur coat, I think.

Was that really the Prime Minister in the skit about Swedish stereotypes? It was. What fun!

Oh god, now Petra is singing. Not as bad as feared. “Mama Mia, IKEA has gone worldwide. Good luck putting together all the parts.” “Daddies don’t have titties, but can still stay home and raise the kids.” HA!

Fun history of Eurovision video.

Oh sweet lord Krishna, the voting is painful. It takes ages! Easily half of the show seems to be crazy people from around Europe voting for their favorites and it is absolutely dreadful. “We give our twelve points to…hmmmm…can you guess…do you know…I bet that you can’t…we vote for…GREECE!”

How are my countries not doing better? It is madness if Romania or Finland or Belarus don’t win. Madness, I say! Oh dear…I’m getting pissed off.

Somebody just called Petra a #milf and the audience goes mad with shock.

Petra hated Bulgaria’s point tabulator. “Yes….?” She muttered with thinly veiled anger as the woman tried to hold onto the mounting tension.

Somehow, and it’s still beyond me when there was an opera singing vampire to vote for, Denmark won. #whatever

So, I guess I’ll try to get to Copenhagen next year for the show. It’s a bucket list kind of thing.

I love Eurovision so much. Someday I want to compete in it, 100% telling you the truth.

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