Lady Gaga was on Leno the other night.
Her performance perfectly epitomized my confused feelings about her.
On one hand, her outfit was stupid. Not creative. Just DUMB. Her shoulder pads were about 13 feet tall.
I wish I could find pictures, but apparently the big black triangles were so big they clouded the sun and prevented flash photography from properly functioning.
Also, her music is trite and pop-junk.
BUT. And with Lady Yaya there is always a but.
Her back-up dancers — men clad in black leather S&M hoods — danced through my dreams all night. (Not like that… well, not exactly.) And the first thing in my head when I woke up was her horrible pop-junk song. And after she was extracted from her gargantuan shoulder contraption, her outfit underneath was hot. 
She looked like a Christina Aguilera hooker. Which is somehow a good thing.
But then came her interview with Leno. She was wearing her sunglasses, in studio, at night, whilst sipping tea. She was trying way too hard. I felt annoyed. But then she spoke. And she was very eloquent and intelligent and likable. And she took off the sunnies, eventually, and I nodded approvingly at her long blond wig and affectionately questionied her gender. Like my feelings of equal hatred and adoration for her, everything with Lady Gaga is in question.
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