Celebrity Match-Ups, Episode One: Josh Groban vs. Andrea Boccelli

So I'm sitting in my room, in front of my computer, checking e-mail, doing various menial tasks, freezing because first I took off my blouse that has the almost-annoyingly long sleeves to eat dinner (I don't like shit dragging in my food every time I reach for the salt.) Then I took off my bra because there was weird grainy crap settling in between the two layers of fabric, making itchy little bumps all over my chest. I have no clue what it is or how it got there. So now I'm wearing a tank top, there is no heat in this section of the house, and it is early April. (Yes, April, but early April.) To get my mind off the fact that I'm too lazy or nihlistic to go grab me a sweater or plug in the space heater, I was thinking, maybe I ought to get some music to listen to. Given that the speakers don't work on my computer, the only solution would be to plug in my CD player and go find a CD I want to listen to. (Yes this could, conceivably be more work than plugging in a space heater AND grabbing a sweater combined. Whatever.) So I'm debating what I want to listen to, when I hear my Dad in the kitchen down the hall, whistling merrily while he does the dishes, and listens to my Josh Groban CD.
There is some backstory to be had here.
Basically, my father's first reaction to Le Monsieur Groban was "He's no Andrea Boccelli."
My reaction: "A) His name is Andrea, and he's a boy. B) His last name is two l's and one e away from being the Italian word for lawn bowling. C) He's blind, and kind of scruffy looking. (Not really his fault, though. If I were blind, I wouldn't be to keen on taking a razor blade to my face and neck either.) The only thing Mr. Boccelli has going for him is that he's from Tuscany."
The result: The War of the Ages. Until now it's been The Josh vs. The Andrea. Which sounds unfair, like a guy fighting a girl. But it's not. Anyhow, let's take a look at the stats, shall we?

Josh---
Vocals: Dulcet, young, pure, and sexy. It's like he's sexing up your ears. 1 pnt.
Song Choices: Romantic, and usually tragic. A good portion of them are in Italian or Spanish or French, but these songs are usually nonetheless understandable and are tempered with songs in English so as to give you a taste of the exotic without making you feel like you need to know 4 languages to appreciate the CD. 1 pnt.
Dress Code: Tasteful, yet relaxed. Like the boy next door taking you on a date. A classy date.
Looks: Let's just say the CD ought to have some kind of visual stimulant along with the recording to make the experience complete. None of these jacket photos. I'm talking holographic images that move, and maybe even dance amongst waterfalls, rose gardens at dusk, and lit candles... 1 pnt.
Place of Origin: LA, California, USA. Hm. We'll need to work on this. LA is all well and good, but the big city doesn't even have much of the stuff of dreams in it, besides Hollywood. NYC is much the same, but with the old-world glory of the immigrant stories ofthe diverse peoples who have settled there. I know there are diverse peoples in LA too, but I've been to LA twice and all I got was food poisoning, sun stroke, and abandoned by my brother in front of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. At night. LA has few happy memories for me right now. (Note to Mr. Groban: this could change if I'm given tix to a concert in your hometown. *winks*) o pnts.
Total Score: 4/5 pnts.

Andrea---
Vocals: Not bad. Given that you appeal to my father, though, there's little to no sexual spark here. I'd give you a hug. At most. 1/2 pnt.
Song Choices: This may be because of his place of origin, but I have yet to hear him sing in English. I can only take the romantic languages for so long before my brain starts to leak through my ears as I try to translate the rudimentary meaning of the songs. o pnts.
Dress Code: Snazzy, but again, my father likes you. Could be a sign of being a little bit stodgy. (P.S. I love you Dad!) 1/2 pnt.
Looks: Again, scruffy. Not even sure what his eyes look like. You'd think it wouldn't matter if he opened them or not. But it's just a little uncanny, even if he's not doing anything that would normally require sight. 1/2 pnt.
Place of Origin: Tuscany. Okay, here I can give you full points over Mr. Groban. Tuscany is a beautiful place, and on my list of top places to visit before I die. (Actually, it's probably at THE top.) 1 pnt.
Total Score: 2.5/5 pnts.

Well, there they stand. So my only logical conclusion would be to have Mr. Groban go to Tuscany. Andrea can tag along if he wants. Poor little guy. I'll buy you some gelato.

Now I'm off to re-comandeer my CD. It's like when toddlers have to pick a toy, and the one their sibling has always looks the most fun? Except that it IS my CD and I have been looking for it for weeks. I even asked my Dad about it, and he said "It's on top of the..." and wnet off to do something else. I assumed he meant on top of the microwave, which is where we keep a box of CD's in the kitchen to listen to. I have looked there, however, and my Josh CD is not to be had. I am no assuming he meant either on top of the fridge or on top of the cupboards above the stove, both of which places are significantly out of my reach. So I KNOW he listens to it, and I KNOW he has it. But he still feels the need to hide it from me, like some kind of dirty little secret.

Welcome to the Fold, Dad. It was bound to happen that you've come to admire Josh's vocal abilities (but one would hope not his looks :S) and the fanclub welcomes you with open arms. It's okay to cry a little. There, there. Your struggle against the inevitable is over...

(Sounds eerily like futuristic cult or governmental melting-pot, a-la-Big-Brother.)