Griffin might not always come off as likable in real life, but at least she's sharp enough to know what the cameras are doing, and why. Abdul doesn't seem blessed or cursed with that sort of self-awareness. Her current claim to fame is her incoherence, so it's a mystery why her agent would allow unfettered access to her rambling stream of consciousness.
But cameras are seductive, and Abdul apparently has some things to share. For instance, she wants us to know that she is a businesswoman. This means that she designs jewelry, which she sells on QVC -- though she is relegated to hawking it live on the air at 1 a.m. (It is amazing how many people are awake and buying jewelry at 1 a.m.)
She has also, at her "own expense," designed a prototype wardrobe for an upcoming live-action movie based on the Bratz dolls. And while the film's producers give her the cold shoulder sometimes, Abdul tells us that she is a "warrior," and thus will persevere.
This backstage version of Abdul is the focus of the show; we're supposed to understand the woman outside the "Idol" set, busy with business ventures and dabbling unsuccessfully in romance. But what we really learn from "Hey Paula" is how little it takes to demand the royal treatment, and to get it. A little money, a little fame, and suddenly you have a team of handlers who smile through your constant whining and self-aggrandizement. Soon enough, you're dispatching your housekeeper to clean up dog poop in your yard, then asking her opinion on your $12,500 Valentino gown, then giving her a bear hug and pretending you love her. (I'd actually like to see a reality show about Abdul's maid. The woman has a killer deadpan, and she clearly sees a lot.)
