Lady Gaga is at a point in her career where she could put a garbage can on a stick, do the hokey pokey and breathe fire from a canister of Juicy Juice and it would be deemed as “art.” With the success of “Bad Romance,” she was sitting on the throne of pop music, befitting her regal name. But with tonight’s release of the “music video” for her single “Telephone,” Gaga has come so very close to throwing all that away. Unfortunately, many will call this video “amazing,” “crazy artistic” and laud Gaga for her gushing ebb and flow of creativity. Once we wake up from that fever dream that “Just Dance” catapulted us into, then maybe…maybe we can all realize what this video is. A mess.

The 10-minute behemoth that is the Beyoncé/Gaga collaboration left me in a daze. At the end, I sat in my chair, slumped over, shaking my head in confused horror. Some parts of the video could be taken as Gaga’s attempt to poke fun at her own eccentricities. In one scene, she dons a cigarette-laden visor while walking through a prison field filled with butch women. But the moments of humor don’t sustain themselves enough for them to be an underlying theme.

Perhaps Gaga’s motives were to amalgamate as much as she could in one video hoping that at least one aspect of it would ring a bell with her audience. The result is lacking. Instead, it comes across as a jam-packed orgy of themes, unfinished ideas and lack of cohesive structure. (Beyoncé, for instance, feeds Gaga a Honey Bun after bailing her out of prison, a strange play on Knowles’ nickname, “Honey B”).

Not to mention, the video has NOTHING to do with telephones (though the phones do make several Oscar-worthy cameos in Gaga’s hair).

What does it all mean? Are we even supposed to know? How do you even enjoy it if you are confused and having slight epileptic seizures? It’s all extremely desensitizing and I honestly don’t know what else to say, so I will leave you to watch the video and try to make sense of it yourself.

Or not.

I love Amy Winehouse. I don’t care what anyone says. Though she’s somehow narrowly escaped the watchful eye of the ever-badgering news media, Winehouse is still in my music spotlight as she gets me moving, dancing and brushing off my pumps (but not really) every time I listen to her music.

But where has she gone off to? The latest news of our favorite Rehab lady is that she’s collaborating with Fred Perry on a new clothing collection — for your late-night partying, booze binge pleasure. Oh, Valerie.

There’s not much I can say about the Oscars seeing as I had to “watch” it via live blog. Nothing was too surprising to me, though I’m sure lots of people were shocked that “The Hurt Locker” won over “Avatar.” Aside from it being the highest grossing film (OF ALL TIME), “Avatar” not as impressive as many made it out to be. Visually stunning, yes. Experimental, yes. Good film/script? No. It lacked where most Best Pictures of the past decade had. It was, in a way, the “Dark Knight” of this group of nominees, though it wasn’t half as good.

As far as acting awards go, there were no surprises. Sandra Bullock who will, as my roommate puts it, “probably never get a shot at this again” deserved her award after playing a deeply emotional role. She must feel strange winning it over two powerhouses of acting chops, Helen Mirren and Meryl Streep, though.

While nibbling my nails in front of my computer screen, I realized how good of a year it was for movies. The 10 nominees for Best Picture reflected a wide array of films — comedies and dramas alike — that reaffirm the thriving success of the film industry.

It’ll be a long, rough night for James Cameron, though. Kathryn Bigelow has bragging rights until he suggests the next film she should direct. Look what you did, James. Love hurts.

Tim Burton’s “Alice in Wonderland” was, dare I say, too safe. The movie combines two nonsensical books (”Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” and “Through The Looking-Glass“), but only treads the surface of the madness I was hoping Burton would delve into. No, I’m not talking about American MacGee’s blood-covered psycho maniac Alice. I’m talking about the complete and utter brilliance that lies in the confusion the book is centered on. I wanted to walk out of “Alice” in a trippy daze. I wanted to experience vibrant colors and nostalgic moments. Instead, I walked out in a trippy daze, but not for the right reasons. I had experienced yet another Tim Burton semi-gothic, pale-faced approach to an otherwise lively tale — a back and forth between extremely dark and strangely morbid and overly bright to the point of insanity.

Don’t get me wrong, his “Alice” wasn’t bad. What it lacked was the excitement and buoyancy that makes the story of Alice’s journey so compelling. Burton was quoted as saying that he wanted to make the story more of a narrative, but I say FIE! Alice was meant to be nonsense! Making it into a cohesive story takes the fun out of it. Maybe that’s just me.

The best acting is seen through Helena Bonham Carter’s wonderful portrayal of The Red Queen/Queen of Hearts (her character definitely pulls from both characters which are, in fact, different). She plays the perfect mix of bipolar, nice, furious, angsty, jealous, amused and self-indulgent. No wonder Tim loves her so.

Johnny Depp had his moments. His choices of shifting accents and composed eccentricity were true to the Mad Hatter. Yes, Depp was able to add more of a humanistic side to the madman, but his time on screen wasn’t nearly sufficient enough to develop the complex character he attempted to create.

Mia Wasikowska as Alice was almost a complete bore. She is definitely a Burton staple: pale, nearly devoid of emotion, but with a demure personality. Her performance just sort of faded into black.

The fine moments of good acting and pithy humor don’t sustain through the whole film and left me still waiting for an iconic movie version of “Alice.” The cartoon didn’t do it, the countless made-for-TV movies haven’t done it either.

Now I feel like I’ll have to wait another 10 years for the version that will do the story justice. This one came the closest.

I just ordered my 52-issue subscription to Entertainment Weekly, my go-to source for entertainment news, TV updates, pop culture news coverage, etc. It’s also a place I’d love to contribute to at some point in my life. So, why did it take me so long to send off the check for my packaged zines? Technology, that’s why.

The ease in reading the same articles online that would appear in print (for the most part) make buying an actual magazine in a college seem futile. BUT, I have turned a new leaf. How can I say that I am strongly grounded in the idea that print journalism will live to see halfway into the new millennium if I don’t contribute? So, I rolled up my sleeves, saved up and renewed both my EW and New York Times subscriptions.

I am putting my two cents in (or actually, a total of nearly $100) … what can you do? Remember, holding a magazine is much more soothing and awesome than staring at a 15-inch screen.

I will not give into the puns on Kim Zolciak having a “Big Mama,” but there really is no other way to put this. A lot of buzz has been spreading across the Internet that Kim, from “The Real Housewives of Atlanta,” is now dating female celebrity DJ Tracy Young. And word is she wants her coming out to be a part of the next season of the show. However, Kim just told a radio station last week that she was still with Big Papa, her on-and-off beau from the TV series.

Where is the truth? Maybe Kim will just come out (no pun intended) and set the record straight soon. It’s an important factor to what could be an interesting third season.

Oh, what I would give to have another season with Kim. Not only was she my…second favorite person on the show (sorry, Kim, but NeNe is my homegirl), she was also the most entertaining as far as drama goes. Without Kim, most, if not all of what made that show so amazing would have never happened.

For instance, Sheree wouldn’t have had a wig to pull on.

Last night, I saw the Ithaca College Music School/Theater Dept. production of “The Little Prince,” a two-act opera based on the children’s novella of the same name by Antoine de Saint-Exúpery. Tonight, I’m heading downtown to the Kitchen Theatre to review “Speech and Debate,” a dark comedy about three teenage misfits caught in a sex scandal. Needless to say, I love the weekends that I get to fill with the theater and I encourage you to do the same.

There’s so much out there in the Ithaca community to enrich and enlighten yourself with — no need to be in New York City to see quality theater. From main stage IC shows and the Kitchen Theatre to undergrounds and Kitchen Sink special performances, you might explode when you find out how many opportunities there are. So grab a ticket, get a buddy and head down to see a show or two this weekend, or shoot me an e-mail if you need help finding out what to do.

Check The Ithacan’s Theater Review section later this week for my reviews on both shows as well! If you go to “Speech and Debate” tonight, you’ll see me, so come and say hi. I’ll be the one with a tie and a reporter pad.

It’s a blitzkrieg to the ear and needs some serious toning down for it to be a track I’ll actually stop to listen to on the radio. If anything, it’s hilarious to watch Ke$ha flop and flounce all over the screen, tormenting viewers with her boozy behavior. I swear this girl got famous accidentally, but for some reason I don’t think she’ll stop as a one-hit wonder. People seem to like this stuff. I sort of see where they are coming from. It’s rewarding and, dare I say, fun to let loose and act like you haven’t got a thought or care about you.

…..Nope. Sorry. I tried. There is no justification for this “artist.”

The song itself is pretty simple with a sprinkling of vulgarity, “Come here rude boy boy, can you get it up?/Come here rude boy boy, is you big enough?” but it’s catchy, makes sense and highlights Rihanna’s vocal strength. Check it below. I have it on repeat.

I haven’t blogged at all about Tiger Woods and his affairs. And there was a reason.

Again, the mainstream news media sensationalized on what was a truly disappointing act by an influential man. Questions like ‘What was he wearing to his press conference’ and ‘Who isn’t a mistress of Tiger’ were the bulk of what was spread across the mouths and keyboards of entertainment journalists covering the series of events leading up to Tiger’s public apology this morning, which was too rehearsed to seem sincere (I understand PR, but come on, you can do better than that, Tiger).

I am deeply disappointed in Tiger. It seems that for every role model for children and even adults, there is one who slips up. More importantly, one that slips up at the wrong place and the wrong time. Woods has always been perceived as a close to ‘perfect’ man. Golf star. Articulate. Attractive. Successful with a dash of arrogance. However, that is no excuse or get-out-of-crap-free card. It’s time for him to take responsibility for his actions. The same goes for the women who were involved. They are, by no means, the sole victims in the situation. Each were fully aware of what was happening and the implications of an affair.

Now that it has all been brought to the light of the media, the next steps are rebuilding relationships and rapport. As of now, Woods’ wife has yet to put her wedding ring back on, but is open to him mending his ways through future actions.

It’s a start.