American Idol 7 Recap – Top 9

Well, hello people, I hope you had a great April Fool’s day, peed on a lot of Saran Wrap, and read a lot of stupid “OMG Kristy Lee is sooooooooooo fantastic!!!” joke threads on the IMDB Idol message boards, just like I did.
Although I did manage to brilliantly avoid the Saran Wrap, but that is a gift a God; I can spot Saran Wrap on toilets from miles away, don’t ask how.

First things first: pile of snow on my balcony has decreased, then increased a little yesterday, but then, decreased again today! I only have like a foot left, yeay!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂
On the downside, with the snow melting, all the dog turds that folks couldn’t be bothered to pick up all winter are now making their first appearance since like November. And believe me, it ain’t pretty, and it doesn’t exactly smells like roses either…!

I’m also proud to announce that the Montréal Canadiens have kicked the Ottawa Senators’ sorry Anglo asses on their own turf, 3-0. Up yours, Senators! Haha! In your face!
I’m sorry, I’m just about to finally start caring about hockey, now that we made the playoffs. The rest of the year, I don’t give a damn. I’m only a fan when my team’s winning, and when I know there’s a good chance we’ll have either a parade, a riot, or maybe even both, if we’re lucky. Those are fun. I love the riot police, they have this great choreography, which makes me sometimes wonder if they hired Paula Abdul as a coach.

(Hee, I believe this is my best segway yet, between total nonsense and American Idol. Speaking of which:)

AMERICAN IDOL 7, TOP 9 RECAP!!!

Theme: Dolly Parton. Mentor: Dolly Parton. Special guest tomorrow: Dolly Parton? I guess. (Better than recycling old Idol rejects.)

So, tonight’s American Idol was different, but in a good way.
Usually, Idol is like of those humongous marathons that has lots and lots of sponsors.
Tonight was more like a sprint that has also lots and lost of sponsors, but the participants run so fast that you don’t have time to read the crap written on their shirts.
The other difference is that I’m not a big country fan, so it’s not exactly the kind of music I was looking forward to listen to for like 36 minutes. In fact, I have to be honest with you, I expected a total trainwreck tonight. Not quite as big a trainwreck as I think – and/or hope – Andrew Lloyd Webber night will be. But still, by the time Idol came on, I had mentally readied myself for a show of a caliber similar to Beatles night #2. Meaning shitty.

This season I seem to have been consistently wrong about just about everything on this show, and tonight, again, I stayed true to my erroneous self and actually enjoyed it. And bought all that beer for nothing. Oh well, it’ll coming handy for the Sir Andrew Crapfest, I’m sure.

I couldn’t help noticing, on the TV listings, that tonight’s show was scheduled to last an hour. An hour in which you need to cram nine singers plus their feedback, as well as a few plugs for ITunes and Friends.
However, the results show is scheduled to last for an hour and two minutes.
Am I the only one here to find this discrepancy absurd? Like wouldn’t it be better to have, I don’t know, a 90 minutes performance show, and then a 30 minutes results show? Hmm?
I’m sorry, but these one hour + results shows have been bugging the shit out of me. Way too long. Just like my recaps.

Moving things along, let’s head back to the Kodak Theatre or Whatever Sponsor It’s Named After Theatre.

Obviously, we are unavoidably treated to some lame April Fools joke, when Ryan tries to kid us that Simon will be taking place in a celebrity edition of the uber-atrocious monstrosity fucking shit that is “The moment of truth”. I. Hate. That. Fucking. Show.
You should know that when it comes to my television watching, my standards are VERY LOW. And somehow, that show manages to dip way below them, which is a feat in itself.
Anyway, turns out that Ryan was bullshitting, which means that Simon will keep on lying and we’ll never know the truth, which won’t make any difference anyway because we already know that Idol is rigged to fuck, and we don’t care.

As I way saying, the Grand Guru this week is in fact teeny weeny Dolly Parton, and I will spare you the boob jokes.
First we’re treated to a Dolly bio, which you might as well just go and read here, thus saving all of us some valuable time, especially me.

Things of note: Dolly is workaholic who has written 3000 songs.
Apparently not; according to Ian, it’s 1000, 25 of which went #1, or so he told me, because he was listening and I wasn’t. Anyway, it’s still a lot.

Dolly Parton is one of those artists whom I deeply respect, in spite of not being a fan of hers. On top of her deliciously perky personality, her sense of humour and her wit, she’s made a remarkable career for herself, and that in itself is admirable. So go Dolly! (And go Habs go! ;))
And, for the anecdote, Dolly composed “9 to 5” on her acrylic nails, because she didn’t have her guitar on the set of “9 to 5: the Movie”. Cool!
She also wasn’t too keen on the idea of mentoring on Idol, because singers are terrible at taking criticism, and she didn’t want to get punched on the nose by Michael Australia (and we all know what a sore loser that guy is) or getting bitten by Pikachu.
But Idol managed to convince her by giving her an old motorcycle helmet left behind by Amanda, as well as a big stick, lots of moolah and a rabies shot; so Dolly said that OK, she’d do it, as long as Idol warned that Australian gorilla that he’s better watch out and keep his cool under all circumstances.

Sunshine Yellow, that wonderful Mormon nanny whose pure, wholesome G-rated personality reminds me of Dolly’s nails on a freaking chalkboard, is first.
(I do remember that last week, I said I would give Sunshine a break because she had been good.
However, that was LAST week. This is a new week, as well as a new month: two good reasons to go back to not liking Brooke and her bullshit and her talking back too much and her getting away with it and her being basically overrated and annoying.
But don’t worry Yellow fans, I still hate Ramiele with the same intensity than… ever. So it’s all “fair and balanced”. I promise to loathe them both equally, so that no one feels left out. :))

Brooke babbles how huge and a legend and how huge a legend Dolly is, in spite of being only 4 feet tall.
Dolly says of Brooke: “She’s really good. She felt the song from a honest place.” Whatever that may mean. I didn’t know it was advised to take ‘psychology 101’ to feel or understand a song, which is probably why I’m such a sucky musician. For me, it’s all about playing the chords without squeaks, and not fucking up the words.

Brooke sings “Jolene”.
You know you guys, I go to this bar called Barfly, and every Sunday night, they have this bluegrass jam session, and there is this girl called Katie Moore, who’s a singer songwriter, and when she comes to the jam, which she often does, she always plays “Jolene”.
And as I’m watching Sunshine singing Jolene with her guitar and an acoustic band, I have this massive Sunday night Barfly jam session flashback, with the only difference that I actually prefer when Katie sings it.
I mean, to me, there is absolutely no doubt that Brooke will nail this, because well, she could not be more in her element. It’s good, but predictable as fuck and totally unoriginal if you ask me.
Sunshine ends, stands, smiles, waves, and goes “Whoo!” Ah, the good times…!

Verdict: (The judges were like on speed tonight you guys; the fucking about was kept to a strict minimum, and besides a couple of slips, for me, it worked like a charm.)
RANDY: That’s the kind of music which suits your voice, you…
Brooke: Thank you, Randy, thank you.
Randy: You had a couple of pitch problems, but…
Brooke: I know Randy, I know. I actually knew before they happened. I play intuitive piano very well, but my intuitive singing has been a bit off lately, I don’t know why. The weather maybe? Or the air around here?, But anyway, thanks Randy. Anything else?
Randy, Well, I…
Brooke: Oh, I think Paula want to say something… Yes, Paula? I’m sorry, you have something to say?
Randy: I also wanted to add that you…

PAULA: You’re very consistent, and that’s like super-duper. You also like totally connected with everyone here, as well as with the folks backstage and the ones on the upper floors, and your hair looks great tonight.
Brooke: Thank you Paula, thank you. Yours too, actually, I really love it, but seriously, you should think about switching to my environment-friendly bio-edible hairspray; every time you smack a strand into place, somewhere, a grasshopper survives for an extra half hour.
Paula: Can you snort it?
Randy: I wasn’t finish….

SIMON: Brooke, Paula is full of shit: you didn’t connect at all with this thing. Personally, I felt like I wasn’t even here during that whole performance. You just busked your way through this thing.
Randy: And you weren’t stellar.
Brooke: I beg your pardon Randy?

Ensues the first and pretty much only fight of the night. Simon disagrees with Paula, who disagrees with Randy, and Brooke disagrees with everyone, and that chick gets more annoying with every passing week. Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Already. Dammit.
Jeez.

Next up, is My David, who clearly just rolled out of bed, threw on the first clothes that were lying about on the floor, and jumped on his bicycle to get his ass to the studio on time. Then when he got there, he borrowed Brooke’s guitar.
I don’t know, he doesn’t look as hot tonight. Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do him right there and then, but maybe not on the stage, tonight. I could actually make it to the red green room, before I start unhooking my bra.
But anyway, he’s unshaven, he looks tired, and I don’t like the boring white shirt; go back to black again next week, darling. And silently mouth “Go Habs go” while Ryan is announcing your number, so that I know that this is MY fashion advice that you listen to, and not one of those run-of-the-mill professional stylists from Fox, k? Thanks, I knew you’d understand, you’re a babe.

Tonight, My David is taking over Paula’s “Animal 101” special: it’s a brand new format that they’re trying; since the show is now squished into an hour, instead of having Paula babbling about mutts, horses or birds, every week, a contestant will be selected to sing about them. And this week, My David drew the short straw and will be singing about a “Little Sparrow”. I’m sorry you guys, but I can’t stop giggling while I’m typing this. I mean, hot sexy David Cook, singing about a little sparrow… …
No? I’m alone here? Oh, hell, party of one!

Ryan and My David are sitting on the stage, chatting. David uses that time to name-drop like crazy and mention all the people who are keeping his hot ass in the hot seat by repeatedly whining to TMZ that David stole the song that they stole from Michael Jackson/Lionel Ritchie/The Beatles. So very very quickly he says: “Doxology-Whitesnake-Chris Cornell-Incubus-and-just-in-case-Dolly Parton. *Inhales* .
I *inhales* borrowed their arrangements, credited them, then Idol cut that part out, hence forcing me to take all the credit for it, while making me look like a song-thieving asshole in the process. OK, I could maybe have quickly slipped in, in between two heaps of praise from the judges, that I wasn’t the genius behind the “Billie Jean” arrangements, but how the fuck was I supposed to know that they wouldn’t air the clip where I say that I borrowed the arrangements from Chris Cornell? Hmm?
And this week, I’m still crediting Miss Parton even though I don’t have to, just to be sure that I won’t be called a thieving douchebag for a third week running. And by the way, the arrangements tonight? Mine. All mine. Ask Miss Parton tomorrow, if you don’t believe me.”

Talking about Miss Parton, she’s listening to My David’s arrangements and is totally swooning, which is perfectly normal. She absolutely loves his voice, which shows that she has very good taste. She then says she loves how he reaches out for a song and then reaches it. (I really suck at that musician jargon, you guys; to me, she almost sounds like Paula on acid when she says shit like that.) But anyway, she loves My David and good for her.

An organ, or some other instrument with keys, appears, followed by My David with Brooke’s acoustic guitar. And in spite of my undeniable bias towards this guy, I still can be fair; if he stank, I’d call him out on it. But I truly think that he is just really, really good.
I mean, I’m not blown away tonight. I don’t know the song, it’s not really my cup of tea, but he’s still far from sucking. It’s just not amazing. But it’s good, and he totally pulls it off. He has a nice falsetto, he can most definitely sing, he knows how to inject his own shit into the songs that he picks/is assigned, and I can’t find anything bad to say about this, not that I would want to anyway, but I would if I had to.

RANDY: Check it out, unbelievable range, falsetto was great, you’re hot, you’re consistent, you’re the shit, yeah. And also yo.
PAULA: I love the new haircut. (Me: What haircut?) I never heard a guy sing that song (you’re one ahead of me Paula, I’d never heard ANYONE sing that song). You’re a rounded artist (WTF is up with those lasses tonight, seriously? Is she calling him fat? Rounded, what does that mean? Who uses the word ’rounded’ besides My David for his crosswords puzzles?)
SIMON: If you can make a song about sparrows sound good, then you’re one nifty motherfucker, mate. But I won’t tell you that it was as good as last week because: a) it wasn’t., and: b) my persona for tonight will be that of a complete bitch, and I only have 50 minutes left, so I better get to it.

My David is being sensibly humble about the good comments he is by now used to getting, and smiles sweetly, and I cannot help but smiling sweetly back, even though I am aware of the television set and the 6000 km separating us.

Note: I was saying above that I didn’t find him as hot as usual tonight, and that I thought he looked like he just woke up from a three hours nap.
Bizarrely, it would seem that my opinion is shared by very few. I went lurking on the forum earlier on, and a lot of chicks are freaking out about his …haircut… The haircut Paula mentioned, I guess; the one that I didn’t notice.
I personally am not sure there was an actual haircut. Maybe it was David’s April Fools joke to Paula, make her believe that he got a haircut, and hope that America would follow along? Or is it just me who has a real bad sense of observation? I dunno, I just thought his hair looked like, not great tonight, personally. However, a lot of chicks dug that invisible haircut. A lot of chicks also dug the white shirt, which I didn’t. And a lot of chicks dug the 6 o’clock (in the morning) shadow, and I didn’t. WTF? Am I getting too difficult? Too critical?
But all that said, I’d still totally fuck his brains out, and even wear a couple of thongs for him if he asked me nicely.

Who is this? Ah. Yeah. Ramiele. I forgot.
I mean, I didn’t, but I really tried to. She is annoying, man.
She is “unbelievably, like, starstruck”. Damn. For once she was bumping into someone her own size, she has to be starstruck! Tough shit, Pikachu.
Dolly finds Pikachu precious, cute, sweet and scared. (Dear Dolly, couldn’t you scare her enough to have her go hide under a piece of furniture until like, 9pm tonight?) Then adds that being both minuscule and boring won’t prevent Ramiele from doing big things.
(Talking of big things, you know what would be big of you Ramiele? Walking out of this show. That would be really big of you and I’d thank you for it for at least until the next season starts. Tell me you’ll think about it, ok?)

Ramiele is, once again, true to herself: bad fashion sense, bouncy (the Pikachu trademark for ‘non-ballads’ dancing) and completely unremarkable. She sings:
“Do I Ever Cross Your Mind”, for the two of you who are interested.
Although I give her credit for seizing the opportunity, at the end of the song, to throw a couple of her diva-big-notes, and she is not quite as boring as usual, although she’s still more boring than Chikezie on a bad night.
I could also add, assuming I wanted to be nice, that I thought it was better than last week, but that would not be nice. I wouldn’t want to remind anyone about how FUCKING TERRIBLE Pikachu was last week when she “sang” ALONE. So I’ll shut up and be done being nice.

RANDY: Yo, check it out. (It’s always comforting to see Randy revert back to his good ole Randyisms, instead of all that weird random shit he was saying last week, I find). I’m not jumping up and down, but it was pretty good. 6,5/10, I give it.
PAULA: At the beginning, I was worried that you wouldn’t connect. But then, you connected, and I wasn’t worried no more.
SIMON: He said it was absolutely fantastic.

April Fools, hahaha!
(Hum, I’m sorry about this.)

(Do you remember this song by Kim Stockwood, “You won’t remember this tomorrow”? It was pretty cool. A bit like what is about to happen. Which is that hopefully, tomorrow? Pikachu: bye-bye.)
SIMON: I won’t remember this tomorrow. You’re cute, you sang it well, but it was cruise-shippy, and… what the heck was I talking about again?

As usual, Pikachu goes crying in Ryan’s arms, all “Bwah! But Dolly Parton was like, so scary with her big boobs and all, I was like, totally freaking ouuuuuuut!!!! Bwah, Ryan, Bwah!!!” *Sniffles* Ryan hands her a box of tissues, then says there is no number for her to call because she sucks too much.

Hey, Jason got mail, you guys! He got a whole shoebox full of postcards written by the same obsessive stalker-like creepy ‘female’ fan. Isn’t that great? The girl says her tension melts when she hears Jason’s voice or sees him performing.
Oooo. That is risky. I don’t think I would have been able to be so blunt myself, but then again, I’m a shy virgin.

Dolly’s going all Paula on us again. “I dread to have to do these locks” or something like that, she says. Then adds that Jason went out of himself (but… I mean.. wasn’t he already ‘outside of himself’? As in ‘out of it’? As in ‘the usual’?) and that this song was a natural piece for him, and some more macrobiotic bullshit like that.

A tambourine starts, then Jason appears, also with Sunshine’s guitar, which he too borrowed, since he too came by bicycle. He’ singing: “Travelin’ Thru”.
And it’s all very Jason-y, and there is no surprise there at all. It’s good, it’s pleasant, it’s good old Jason.
Whomever is to be credited for the “coffee shop vibe” expression, I credit you, right here, right now; right on the money. “Coffee-shop vibe” is just PERFECT to describe Jason.
Not that it’s a bad thing; I actually like Jason’s shit. I prefer My David’s shit, because I’m more of a rock chick, but I still dig Jason’s shit. However, the question remains, is this ‘American Idol shit’? That is left to be proven, and if you want my opinion, I don’t think he is. I have him pegged as a “top 6 bye-bye”. We’ll see. As long as we’re rid of Pikachu like, yesterday, I’m good.

So my notes about Jason basically say that:
-He sounds raspier than usual. (I heard quitting smoking may fuck up your throat, but I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tried quitting.)
-Tonight, he looks like he cares. As in, he makes faces; a bit like Carly, but in not scary.
-His family don’t have dreadlocks.

RANDY: It started rough, but it picked up in the second part. It had that singer-songwriter kinda vibe. (Whether that is good, bad, or another way to say “Coffee-shop vibe”, you tell me.)
PAULA: (I *think* I wrote: “One of the strongest performances…” but I’m not sure. But I’m sure she liked it.)
SIMON: I didn’t like it at all, it sounds like you do the same Goddamn song every week, this music doesn’t fit your style, you’re a jerk, your pot habits are costing us a fortune, I don’t like you no more because you don’t fucking listen to what I say, and I hope you and your blue eyes get the bye-bye out of here tomorrow.

According to Dolly Parton, Carly has the perfect voice to sing “Here You Come Again”, which was not written by Dolly. I can only assume that Carly asked My David to go sniff around the web for some cool arrangements of this song, courtesy of some-obscure band, who will get to flirt with fame come tomorrow or Friday, all thanks to TMZ.
Whatever awesome arrangements My David has found, Dolly is happy with it, she loves Carly’s voice, and she’s pleased with her song choice.
Carly too, because she gets to sing Slayer’s version of the song to Dolly, and singing to Dolly just plain rocks, so Carly’s like, totally on cloud 9, man. Amazing, this is.

She is standing next to a guy who’s playing acoustic guitar, and right off the bat, I can tell that my girl is going to be great. I really do love Carly’s voice.
Her, I don’t know. Her “plant” status bothers me a bit, and there just seems to be this “too eager to please” vibe about her, like she’d do anything and sell her soul to Nigel Lythgoe to stay on this show. I could be wrong, but that’s how she comes across to me.
Regardless, Carly is undeniably kicking some very serious butt here. She’s toned down the facial gymnastics, which is good, she looks good tonight, and her pipes are in top shape.
Although this is a ballad, I really, really like it. I’m not even bored. Even Amanda, I think, wouldn’t be bored. She ends on some insane high note, and I’m like: wow!
Carly is better make it to top 3, you guys, because she Goddamn deserves it, based on her crazy ass vocals alone.
Ian says : “That was good. And she’s very pretty.”

RANDY: Check it out, this was probably the performance of the night.
PAULA: Oh. My. Freaking. God. That. Was Glorious. Oh. My. God. That voice of yours. My God. And oh my God you look great. Oh my God.
And by the way, Randy, that note she finished on last week? It was on pitch. I looked it up.
Randy: You looked it up where? Wikipedia again? You know that site is full of crap, Paula. I told you before. I mean, they have Britney Spears listed as a singer, actress, dancer, songwriter, which is all bullshit. She should be listed as ‘good for nothin’ trainwreck’; even you know better than that, Paula.
Paula: No, I also checked on Conservapedia, and they say the same thing as the Wiki. And being a Republican online Encyclopedia, they don’t like to agree with the Wiki, who is SOOO blatantly liberal. If they both say that Carly was on pitch, then she surely was on pitch.
Randy: Yo, I guess I can’t disagree with that, although this isn’t ab…

SIMON: Are you two finished? Can I talk now? Thanks. Jeez.
Ok, Carly, you look like shit tonight. You need to have a word with the blind moron who’s dressing you, because you look like trailer trash. You’re making Britney Spears come across as tasteful and classy, but not in a good way.
When America tunes in to this show, although it is supposed to be a singing competition, no one gives a fuck about what you sound like. Look At Ramiele. People watch this show for the beautiful people that we put in it. Why do you think you’re all getting makeovers once you make it to the top 12? Do you think we do it for you? Think again. You guys are just tools, and we’re using you to make a lot of money off our sponsors, one of whom designs some ugly ass clothes, which you should wear, instead of just showing up dressed like a normal Irish person.

Paula: But, Simon? I mean, she doesn’t look that bad. You didn’t say anything bad to David when he showed up fresh from out of bed at 7.45? Why Carly?
Plus I’d like to remind you that this is Dolly Parton night. Country and western. Denim, checkered shirts, and cowboys hats. Come on, did you expect her to show up in a sequined evening dress?

Carly: Well, I didn’t want people to think that I was pregnant again, and my ugly red top from two weeks ago was harshly criticized by the recapper from “Rebel without a Clue”, that fantastic blog, so I thought black would be the way to go…
Simon: Well, I don’t like it. I’m not even sure that I still like you, actually. I think I’m starting to prefer Krist-Hee to you. Actually, yes, I do. From now on, she’ll be the one whose ass I’ll be pimping like crazy.

Simon’s fashion advice to Carly goes on for a little while longer, until Ryan looks at his watch, and then interrupts: “Sorry guys, but we have four more singers waiting in the wings, ITunes wants to say hi, and we have another 18 minutes of commercials to air, so let’s get with it, OK? Simon, while we’re still here, do you have any commentary for Carly about… her hair? Or maybe even her singing?
Simon: Singing? Oh, yes, I forgot about that… I mean, who cares, really? The singing was okay. It was good. Not great, but good. Whatever. Take Carly away, Ryan, she’s not my favourite anymore. Where is Krist-Hee? I want to pimp Krist-Hee, now.
Ryan: Krist-Hee will be up soon. Next is Wittle David, to you want me to get them to switch?
Simon: No, Wittle David is good too. I’ll pimp him. Bring him on.
Ryan: Will do. Right after the break.

When we come back, Ryan is surrounded by a crowd of 3’9″ blondes. He’s in the middle of the peppit, screaming: “ITunes is the best! I bought one myself, and now, look at that glow!” Then three angry teenagers grab him by the collar. “Where is Wittle David? You said you’d bring him on, where is he? We took the bus all the way from Boston to come and see him, so where is he? Huh?”
Ryan has just enough time to scream: “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you David Archuleta!” before getting swallowed by this crazed and menacing crowd.

Meanwhile, in the clip, that sadistic wittle boy is making Dally Parton bawl her eyes out and has her fearing for the fate of her 6 inches fake eyelashes.
Dolly is absolutely smitten and blown out of her socks by Wittle David; he gasps and she gets chills; he is soooo into it, and he gets aaaall the emotions exacaactly right, and he licks his lips and she cries, and says that Wittle David has got the potential to become a great (x 4) singer. Yep. Great, great, great, great. That is like better than Sunshine, My David, Carly, Pikachu and Jason all rolled up into one.

Wittle David is perfectly in his element: cheese. Cheese is what he does, and he does it well.
Predictably, it’s a syrupy ballad, which to me sounds a hell of a lot like the Eagles’ “Desperado”, but which is, in fact called: “Smoky Mountain Memories”.
And what can I tell you? It’s perfect; works like a charm. Cookie-cutter song for a cookie-cut wittle boy. The song has got a message, like all the songs that Wittle
David gets praise for. I don’t know what the message is, because the only times I listen to the lyrics is when I know them, just to see if they’re fucking them up. But I doubt not for one second that it’s a message of peace, love, eating bio, buying free-trade, and driving hybrid.
But not that I wouldn’t be a pleasure to excoriate Wittle David, but once again, he gives me nothing to whine about or even make fun of. So I have to say, it was good.

RANDY: Baby, David Archuleta is BACK!!! THAT was the best performance tonight!!! (That’s it, I see it now. Simon has obviously given P/R (Randy/Paula) a pep-talk during the break, briefing them that the time has now come for all of them to present a unified front against Carly, and to trash her collectively from now on. Carly girl, hold on to your pantyhose, the landing has begun!)
PAULA: You’re glorious. This show is glorious. This is fucking fantastic. I love this job, you guys. You look wonderful tonight.
SIMON: I had issue with your song choice from last week; last week, you basically tried to entertain us. Don’t do it again. You suck at it. You have been designed by the Creator to sing soppy message songs, and you should follow your true calling.
Tonight, you did, you’ve gone back to your sugary sweet maple syrup and honey pie, and is was absolutely right on the money. So I hope I won’t have to tell you again that you should really give up on trying to entertain people, and just focus on making them cry instead. Kleenex will love you for it, and so will we since they surely will become one of our sponsors after that. So that was great, keep it up!

Wittle David has such a wide smile that I’m afraid it will split in face in two, causing the top half of his head to fall off and roll on the stage. And then Carly will run over and kick it in the peppit.
But none of this happen. Why does the true entertainment always have to be on cable?

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Wow. I’ve never ran so late in like, three weeks. I’m back after a short break and some rather hardcore partying. Going out to drink beer with three construction workers maybe wasn’t a good idea after all… I’m kidding. Well, actually I’m not, I did go out to drink beer with three construction workers, but I didn’t just walked on a construction site and randomly picked out three workers, I actually know those boys. I even married one of them.
Fun metro ride back though. Ludo was completely wasted, and providing entertainment for the commuters.
As for me, I decided I hadn’t had enough yet, so I went to Barfly. The Habs won again, I saw three horribly shitty bands (seriously, last night was tough, “music” wise. Fucking awful and loud as hell. I managed to close the place in spite of the fact that I only had 12 bucks on me (that’s the advantage of being a chick in a predominantly male establishment, especially when you know pretty much everyone.
Hey, I even met a guy from Norwich, that’s where I used to live in England; it was awesome to be able to talk about the now defunct Festival House, Magdalen Street, the Jacquard, the Market Place… Norwich was awesome.
But anyway, sorry to babble on, I’m almost done. But I had a great time last night. One of the best nights out in a while. I’m presently hungover as hell and still slightly buzzed, and my going out is done for a bit, but in spite of the horrendous bands, it was all worth it, I had a great time. Barfly rocks.

Ok, now I’m done. Sorry about that. And Go Habs Go!

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Ok, once upon a time, I was recapping this show called American Idol, then went to get drunk with some construction workers and found myself recapping the performance show on Friday evening. And Ian is coming up, so I’m afraid this thing will never get published.
And profiting of this completely OT moment, I want to say thanks to Lissycat for her comment, I appreciate it a lot. You’re like my first “confirmed reader”, and it’s really cool. So thank you. 🙂

OK, now on with the damn recap already. So where was I?

Oh, yeah, I’d just finished recapping Wittle David’s emotional rendition of “Cheese, and the vegetables that go well with it”, the eighteen tons of praise he got for it, the female hysteria that ensued, and now, we’re finally moving on again.

We’re moving on to Krist-Hee. What is Krist-Hee going to sing tonight? The National Anthem? The same song as last week? No: “Coat Of Many Colors”. Paula will love it, I’m sure.
We see a clip of Krist-Hee and Dolly accusing one another of being prettier. Krist-Hee, that complete suck-up, picked a song that Dolly wrote for her mum, and Dolly’s all “she made it her own without having to do any internet research.”
Dolly says Krist-Hee’ mum will be proud of her, Krist-Hee’s proud that Dolly says that, and everyone is happy and proud and it’s all so very wonderful.
Krist-Hee looks nice tonight. Love the dress. I’d totally wear that, plus it seems bikeable. A bit long perhaps, but I can always roll the bottom of the skirt and sit on it.

nyway. Krist-Hee is sitting on the steps, and stays there for most of the song. I can’t blame her, all that crouching that she is usually doing must be really exhausting. Right off the bat, I can tell that this is gonna work, because country is Krist-Hee’s cup of tea, although not mine. The song is boring as hell and I couldn’t care less, but it sounds all very nice and pleasant. She doesn’t do much with the song though, she doesn’t really push her voice very much until the last note. It’s like she’s all “I’m a proud American, and to prove it, I’m gonna sing a country song, and just doing that is gonna get me all the Red states votes, and these people are idiots, so why the hell should I try hard when I can just sit there, look pretty, make the males of America drools and foam at the mouth and automatically pick up their phone? To hell with trying hard.”

RANDY: It’s KLC week! Country music is Krist-Hee’s wheelhouse. (Now what the fuck is a “wheelhouse”? I’ll look it up, hold on…”
“the wheelhouse is where one navigates a boat”
Huh? Maybe I misunderstood, because that makes no sense at all. It’s the kind of statement I would expect Paula to make.)
Talking about PAULA, she assassinates Krist-Hee in front of our very eyes. “You look stunning.” (Ouch. She could be a goner. Damn, what about my plan of getting this show rid of Pikachu?) Then she goes on to say that this was a beautiful performance, and probably her best so far.
(Really? If that was her best performance, then it means that Krist-Hee sucks, because, c’mon, it was okay, but nothing to write home about. And have I mentioned that it was boring? I have? Well, it’s worth a re-mention. I want a “8 days a week” trainwreck again, that’s the Krist-Hee I love, the one who so delightfully makes an ass of herself on national TV. I’ll even take the brilliantly blatant pandering of Red State America’s votes from last week. Seriously, I’ve thought about it, and in retrospect, I think I liked it. It takes balls to sing a song like that, I find. I would be embarrassed to sing “I’m proud of being a Canadian”. First, because we have the good taste, up here, to not come up with ridiculous songs like that one, and it was just SOOO phony.
Krist-Hee’s like the Mike Huckabee of American Idol. But let’s get back to the judges, shall we?)
SIMON: (Ah, finally someone who makes sense.) I disagree, that phoniness of a song from last week was better, it was pleasant but forgettable.

(What are we talking about again? Oh yes. That Dolly song. So. Forgettable. )

Ryan used to be an Asian manicurist before getting his hosting gig on Idol. He congratulates Krist-Hee on her gorgeous bare feet, and that French Manicure, honey? Simply divine, darling. (OMG you guys, Ryan is so gay sometimes. French manicure… tsk…!)

Krist-Hee’s all thank you, look at my teeth, and this week, she’s blowing kisses at Simon, instead of his socks. He only deserves to be blown out of his socks when he gives her really good reviews, and that was too lukewarm for Krist-Hee. No top 9 sexual favours for Simon.
Anyway, my final opinion on this crap is that Krist-Hee-Hee will grace us with her presence for at least one more week, unless, obviously, she sings another national anthem.

Syesha waves at us. She is wearing Sunshine Yellow’s yellow dress from the other week., that time when Brooke went “Whoo!” and sucked so bad that I almost liked her. That was awesome! Man, I miss Beatles week, they really should have more of those.

When we come back from the break, I give Syesha a quick pep-talk. “Dude. Listen. Be good, and keep away from the diva songs, alright? Enough with those already.”
Guess what Syesha’s doing. “I will always love you”. She asked My David to go on the internet for her and find her a cover of it. My David, since it was April Fools Day, decided to play a practical joke on Syesha and the rest of us. “I found this wonderful cover by Whitney Houston, and Syesha, it will fit you like a glove. If you go all diva on a Dolly Parton song, you will like totally take everyone by surprise. No one will ever see you coming. If Doxology had made an emo version of the song, I would have stolen the arrangements for you, but they stupid asses haven’t. So surprise us by going all Whitney on us for the fourth week running,”

Dolly says of Syesha “She’s a pretty girl with a nice voice.” In other words, “I do not care about this person, and who are we talking about again?” No, actually, Dolly does grace us with a positive comment on Syesha’s “choice in the way she performs the song”, aka: à la Whitney. Syesha explains that tonight, she will mimic post-crack Whitney: simple, emotional, connected, and cold turkey.

Syesha is sitting near the piano, and because of the yellow dress, I am waiting for her to go “Whoo!” and start moving around like really really awkwardly, but no such luck. I think it would have been great for her to take the mickey at Brooke and spoof her on April Fools Day, but Syesha and I have a different sense of humour.
So instead of mimicking Sunshine, Syesha mimics Whitney.
I actually don’t hate it. It’s not too OTT, she sings fairly softly and it’s actually better than last week, in my opinion.
Or was. Because near the end of the song Syesha goes full Whitney on us, with big notes that stretch out until dawn, some of which are a bit on the shaky side.

I feel I’m being a little harsh, because it really was okay, quite good even. However, I’m getting a little tired of the diva thing. My girl Syesha turning tricks to sing Whitney on Dolly night; I’m a little disappointed, and I’m still waiting for that big Syesha moment when she’s gonna – hopefully – go all crazy disco queen on us. I’m getting somewhat impatient now, with Syesha. I’ve supported her (mentally) since the start, but now, I’m really starting to think that she reads my blog, and that she’s jealous of all the attention that I’m giving Sunshine and Pikachu; I suspect she wants me to give a her nickname, smart-assy lines of dialogue, and tell funny stories about her, like I have so much fun doing with Pikachu (by the way, it’s now Friday night, so I know full well that Pikachu went bye-bye. It was wonderful. And with Pikachu gone, I have an opening for a new scapegoat, besides Sunshine Yellow.) Which brings me back to Syesha. And to the fact that in spite of her good vocals, she’s been rather boring, and that her very best, for me: “Yesterday” wasn’t exactly sock-blowing. Girl needs to do something exciting. She needs to pull a Chikezie.
But I’ll give her another chance, since I still have Ramiele to take the piss at for the moment.

RANDY: Check it out, yo, you took on the biggest tiger tonight. I liked it, but it wasn’t great.
PAULA: You look beautiful tonight. (Aie aie aie, that’s another bottom three comment.) There is an orange-ish velvety texture to your voice that totally turns me on. Plus you’ve really grown; in fact, you’re catching up with Michael. And you totally connected with the public, too. They all just text-messaged me to tell me how connected they were.
SIMON: This is one of the best pop songs ever. (Really? Since when? And what makes you the authority in best pop songs ever? The best pop song ever was evidently “Walk like an Egyptian” by the Bangles. Idiot.)
The first part, when you sounded a bit like that girl we had on, Syesha her name was, you were good. Then you morphed into a pale and bland Whitney The Magnificent wannabe, and immediately started sucking. Whitney is like totally untouchable, Her name should only be spoken with deference, the deepest respect, and in a soft husky voice. Stop doing fucking Whitney, you suck when you do and that chick from Rebel Without A Clue will give you hell for it. So stop.

You do realize that this isn’t a transcript right? I do inject a teeny tiny bit of my ever so unbiased opinion into Simon’s words. Because that’s what he needs to tell her, and if he doesn’t, I will. Someone has to, and these three moronic millionaires sitting there obviously don’t have the balls to do it.

Simon adds (for real) that she was good but not great, and wishes that she hadn’t been able to get that song. (So do I. How about, on Dolly Parton week, you try to do some country, Syesha? Huh? Instead of ripping off fucking Whitney AGAIN? Huh?)
Ok, I’m getting myself all worked up here, it’s not good. I have to calm down before my blood pressure increases. And on that, he’s okay. My David, I mean.

So anyway, Syesha, watch out before I turn on you. You’re on my red list right now, and you don’t want to be relocated to my black one, believe me.
Ask Sunshine Yellow.

After a annoyingly dizzying spinny camera angle, we catch a glimpse of a pissed off looking Michael Australia, in a posture that evokes the Foufounes Électriques bouncers.

This should be fun. Michael cannot do a Queen song tonight, because Queen has never covered Dolly, and My David wasn’t available to do research for him on the internet. In fact, after Carly and Syesha asked him to find them a cool cover by an obscure band, he said that was enough, and that he had other things to do, like writing his own arrangements, for instance. So when Michael asked My David “Hey mate, can you Google me a song?” My David said: “I’m sorry Michael, but I’m afraid I won’t have time. I have to practice, and then I have a hairdresser appointment. But you can borrow my laptop if you want. Check some of the links in my favourites, there is one for a song-arrangements generator which is really quite good.”
Michael says “You’re an asshole. You don’t have time for me, but you do for the girls. Typical. Well, I guess I’ll just have to take a stab at a Dolly song, then. I can’t read very well, so using Google myself will inevitably lead me to a porn site, then you’ll be giving me shit for infecting your computer with an STD. So thanks but no thanks. Can you Google me a Dolly song at least?”
David: “Sure. I’ll just get my-country-songs-by-short-women-with-large-breasts generator and… there: “It’s All Wrong, But It’s All Right” – Dolly Parton. Sounds good to you?”
Michael: Perfect. Do you have a program that can squish it down to 90 seconds? I’d do it myself, but the last time I did my own put and paste job on that poor Beatles song, that stupid Montreal recapper gave me hell for it, so I ain’t doing it myself anymore.”
David: “No problem, I’ll just get my 90-seconds-song generator, and bob’s your uncle, you got your song, Michael, and I, have to go. Haircut. Smell ya later.”
Michael: “Cheers mate. And don’t you come back looking hotter than I am.”
David: It’s already too late for that, honey.”

And with that, he’s gone.

And we’re left with Michael, who’s singing for a crazed Dolly Parton who’s taking off her clothes and flinging them at him. Michael stops, shows her his wedding ring, says that he doesn’t do things like that and that he doesn’t like her that way and that it’s best that they just stay friends. Then he croons some more, and it looks like Dolly’s is liking it, in spite of her obvious disappointment. I understand. Rejection is a bitch. I reject a lot of people myself, just for the hell of it, and I’ve been told to stop. I’m trying to cut down for the moment.

Anyway, all that put aside, we find out that Michael is scared shitless of Dolly and at the same time, he’s really conflicted because he is also a fan of hers. Well, Dolly says Michael is a fan, but for all we know, she could be talking out of her ass. Maybe he hates her and is just sucking up.
Aussie Mike decides that he deserves flowers: he says “Standing there, and singing one of her songs to her, and she enjoyed it…”
Dolly: Who said I enjoyed it?
Michael: Well, who said I was a fan of yours? You did, not me. Don’t talk out of your ass, and I won’t talk out of mine, deal?
Dolly: You’re a jerk, but yeah, deal. Get on with it now.
Michael: Gee, thanks so much for the jerk comment, and right back at you. Geez, what the heck is up with you, woman. You’re way too ancient to have PMS, so what is it?
Dolly: You’re hot and you rejected me. You have a good voice but a shitty attitude. Your tennis playing annoys the crap out of me. I have this love/hate thing going for you that is really confusing me.
That said, for such an asshole, you’re pretty talented. If you gave me a lot of money, I’d write nice songs for you. That’s why I’m putting up with your antics: I want you to become a star, write for you, and make a lot of money off that cute ass of yours. We’ll be a match made in heaven.
Michael: Oh, OK then.
Dolly: I told you to stop giving me attitude.

According to my plans, Michael Australia was supposed to stink tonight.
Well, again, I was SO WRONG. He is brilliant, and I’m not just saying that, I mean it. Great, great vocals, that was. It’s a very soulful song, with lots of gospelly shit, and it’s absolutely awesome. I’m happy to see Michael in top shape two weeks running.. Great falsetto, great song, great arrangements (maybe My David found a little time to find him a nice cover? I don’t know.)
But regardless whose rip-off this is, it’s fucking great, man. Tons of women are getting hot flashes right at this moment. Go Michael!

Well, again, Michael blew me out of my socks. I think that I liked it even better than last week. I believe I got goosebumps.

Poor Michael, I’ve been a bitch to him, haven’t I? I mean, I have been picking on him a fair bit, but now, he has seriously kicked my butt twice, and it’s starting to hurt, so I’m thinking about giving him a break for a short while.
I’ll need someone to replace him though… I’ll have to think about it, Mike. I’ll sleep on it, and during the results show recap, fittingly enough, I’ll let you know if you’re off my hook for the time being. Is that fair?

After a shot on Michael Australia’s wifey, which will be sure to infuriate many a horny female out there, we have the final verdict, which has GOT to be good.

RANDY: Listen baby, you keep on bringing it up a notch every week (that was one hell of a notch though!) and it was blazing hot.
PAULA: I just want to say one thing (then she says like 10 things) but you’re a star, a rock star, a blues star, soul! You’re gorgeous! And you look gorgeous. You would look great with that head of yours on my pillow, believe me. Too bad you brought that grinning twit over there. Dump her, because she does not deserve you.
(Just a quick note, when Paula tells a girl that she looks gorgeous, it’s totally bitchy, and ‘”I want you gone” and it’s basically the kiss of death. However, when she says it to a guy, it simply means that she would do him, if he didn’t bring his own tall, blonde, slender bodyguard.)
SIMON: This was an interesting night. (I disagree: this was a GOOD night.). This was the best I ever heard you sing. (Paula has a mini-orgasm when he says that, for some reason.)

After this, Ryan turns into a verbal Speedy Gonzales, spewing 237 words per minute, and then we have the recap and I have to listen to Pikachu, fucking Sunshine, and once again, I’m subjected to Syesha’s fucking Whitney obsession, and the lines are now open so what the hell are you still doing here? Quick, go vote. It’s Friday, but who cares.

So my final impressions was that this was an pretty awesome show, in spite of the fact that all the women, except Carly, annoyed the living shit out of me, as well as Wittle David and Stoner Jason. And I don’t like country music either.
In fact, I wonder why I enjoyed this show so much, since only about 4 minutes of it were any good. Go figure.

But yeah, I had a good time, although I still find 9 singers in one hour to be a bit much.
Best performance of the night goes to Michael Australia, with My David and Carly way up there too.
Shittiest performance of the night: Oh, my, can I pick “everyone else”? Nah, I’ll give it to Brooke, just for the “evil” of it. Or to Pikachu, just for being her annoying self. It’s a hard pick. Oh, what the “evil”, I’ll leave it up to you. You pick one for me.

My predictions for tomorrow’s trapdoor victims: Syesha, Pikachu, and Jay-Jay the Stoner. Goner: if everything goes according to plan, it will be Pikachu. And it fucking should too.
And tomorrow, we can all laugh together about how wrong, again, I was.

See you then.

Actually, wait. There’s more.
After Idol, the Dancing with the Stars results show came on, and at the beginning, they had that dude who got eliminated, Steve something, doing a tango with some other dude. And it was fucking hilarious and absolutely awesome and you should totally watch it, right here.

See ya later!