I’m back. Finally. Sorry about last week. I’m sure I’ll eventually get to those “recaps”, but for the time being, I’ll do my best to just keep up with the show.
Here are my excuses:
Last week, there was just way too much Idol to watch to recap any.
Last Tuesday, my blog reached 1000 hits, after exactly one month, and although I know it’s not an outrageously huge number, I was still proud of it, so I went out to celebrate, came home late, downloaded Idol, watched it without really taking many notes, and then went to bed.
Wednesday, Idol Gives Head But Doesn’t Swallow was on, so that cost me two and a half hours of time that could have spent blogging.
Then on Thursday, the one hour, again, results show, and its shocking and infuriating outcome, which then prompted me to first, bitch on IMDB for a couple of hours, and then to go out. Again.
All this going out got tiring, so on Friday night, I said, I’m blogging and that’s it. Then drunk friend showed up, my computer said bye-bye, and from then on, just started to reboot maniacally, making me lose large chunks of text every time.
Same thing all day Saturday, until my computer gave me the ultimate finger, said fuck you, and died in my face.
Sunday, spent all day waiting from my geeky friend to come diagnose Moonshine, my dead computer, and all of Sunday night watching him test all kinds of stuff that had fuck all to do with my deceased Moonshine.
Then he made me a price list and told me to go buy a new computer. Great.
Today, I’m trying to get back in touch with reality, because things have been very surreal in the last 24 hours, but not in a good way. I just want the dust to settle, man, life has sucked something hardcore in the last few days. I’m tired. I’ve had enough of it. No more bad shit please.
Thanks for letting me whine and complain and bitch.
I can tell you one thing though, with all the crap that has happened lately, I’m very happy to be back here, writing my stupid “recaps”; it feels like a nice distraction. I’m feeling pretty fucking miserable right now, but I promise to do my best to be funny and wacky. Maybe I’ll make myself snap out of my current neurotic state of mind, who knows.
So here goes:
AMERICAN IDOL 7 TOP 7 RECAP!!!
So, did you guys like tonight’s show? I thought it was boring. But then again, how could it not be? Divah Carey night? C’mon! She sucks. Her songs are boring, because they’re all ballads (if I go by what I’ve heard tonight, Divah has got the Syesha syndrome and strictly sticks to boring diva ballads.)
Regardless, it’s not just her songs, I don’t like Divah herself; something about her puts me off; maybe it’s got to do with the fact that she always dresses like a hooker? That shouldn’t bother me, I used to dress like a hooker myself when I was younger. I’ve seen pics of me, man, and I’m like “Wow! That’s not a skirt, it’s a belt. I totally look like a fucking street worker!”
Eventually, I did put two and two together and realized that you could be sexy even when not 90% naked, that jeans can be dead sexy, and also way more comfortable that this stupid “skirt” that also used to ride up when I walked, so I had to hold it down. I must’ve looked like a right twit, with one hand holding my skirt down, while the other one was holding my hat, because England could be dead windy sometimes. I really didn’t make it easy for myself, now, did I?!
Anyway, wasn’t this entry supposed to some “recap” of some big fat TV show? It was, wasn’t it? Let’s get to it then.
So as you may have noticed, I was somewhat upset at the loss of Michael Australia, and even moreso, at the way Ryan/Nigel Lythgoe/whoever was at the origin of that little “joke”, Michael’s elimination announcement was handled. I thought bringing up last year’s “Idol Gives Head” was an unnecessary blow, since Michael was already getting the boot anyway, which must suck regardless. Kicking someone who’s already down is a shitty thing to do.
I even wrote to Ryan last Thursday night; not to blast him or call him an ass, just to ask him whose idea it was, and to tell him that it sucked regardless.
And then I told him to swing by my blog and check out all the freaky sex I have him have with just about everyone.
Have I put Ryan in a sex scene yet? Yes, actually, I have, it’s in my half “recap” of last week’s show. Maybe I’ll publish what I already have written, and get to the rest in July, or never, if my life continues sucking the way it does, but enough about that.
From what I’ve read, it’s likely it’s not Ryan’s fault, he’s probably been told to say this sneaky cruel shit. But still, if you’re the one who delivers the blow as well as the kick in the balls, you’ll be the one that short-fused people like me will call an asshole, or simply, an ass.
Poor Michael. But apparently, he’s already crushed by tons of offers, one of which from Dolly Parton. Good thing Michael accepted to sleep with Dolly in the end, because it paid off.
Oh, you guys didn’t know that? Yeah, Michael totally put up, it’s in my half-“recap” from last week. Screw it, I’ll publish what I already wrote. Maybe it will be an incentive for me to write the rest of it.
So Ryan announces that what we are about to watch, is … …Ammmmeeeerrrrican idol! The contestants are lined up on stage, and don’t look anywhere near as miserable as they did at the beginning of last week’s show.
My David is a bit heavy on the facial hair, but he’s just so darn cute with this adorable smile of his that I can only sigh and go “Aww”. This guy is just so… He makes me totally… I don’t know.
I just want to jump on him and unbutton his jeans and unbutton his shirt and unbutton my shirt, and then take him by the hand and lead him somewhere where we can have a little bit of privacy, because Idol is, after all, a family show, and you cannot have sex with people on stage, just like that.
Oh wait, in my “recaps”, you can. So then I unbutton my jeans too, unless I showed up in a skirt, it does happen about once a month in average, and then we fuck like animals in front of everybody but Wittle David, who has been promptly removed form the premises by his daddy, and Brooke, who, disgusted, has left the room.
Paula want so join in, but I say “No, he’s mine, get your own.” So Paula jumps on Simon and they do it on the judges desk right in front of Randy, who keeps telling Paula that she’s too pitchy.
Then, after all this sex, everyone, apart from Brooke, who’s still pissy, is happy and satisfied and relaxed, and we can get on with the show.
So the backdrop splits in two, to let in a frisky Ryan Seacrest, all “Oh, doesn’t it suck what happened to Michael Australia last week? David Cook, you must be relieved that your biggest competition has hit the road, right? I mean, now you’re officially the hottest guy on the show, after me and Simon, of course.
You’re a great actor, by the way; the “tears”, after I was done messing around with Michael’s nerves? Perfect. Almost bought it.
But, yeah, you’re getting all the girls now, besides maybe a few hippie chicks who for some reason, prefer to flock to Jason. Archuleta’s fans cannot be talked about as “girls”, since they really are just brats. Anyway, you happy about this?”
Rebel Without a Clue: Ryan, are you gonna apologize for last week, or at least say that Nigel Lythgoe is a shithead?
Ryan: Are you crazy? If I apologize, then I become the biggest asshole on TV, and if I blame Nigel, the next person who we’ll say bye-bye to on this show, will be me. So no, I don’t give a shit about Michael Australia, he was a complete dick, as well as a dickhead, and I’m glad he’s gone cos’ he was too hot anyway, and it turned out that he was also a good singer, and that could have fucked around with Archuleta’s carefully planned victory. The time had come to get rid of him.”
Rebel Without a Clue: You guys suck.
Ryan: Fuck you Rebel. Shut up, watch the show, and stop talking to me; it’s distracting.
Rebel Without a Clue: Alrighty then. Oh, did you get my email by the way?
Ryan: Yes, I did.
Rebel Without a Clue: I wasn’t too much of a bitch, was I?
Ryan: No, not at all, you should see some of the stuff that some people called me! I couldn’t possibly say that on TV!
Rebel Without a Clue: Hey, you should forward me some of the best ones. I could really use a laugh at the moment.
Ryan: No sweat, as soon as the show’s over, I’ll get my laptop, and I’ll send you some of my hate mail; I’ve actually saved the “best” ones!
Rebel Without a Clue: Awesome! And Ryan? Can you tell David Cook about my blog? He looks like he could use a laugh too… And also because I totally want to have sex with him after the season is over, making him laugh could be a good strategy to seduce him. Then later, after we know one another better, I’ll send him a picture of my boobs.
Ryan: Oh yeah, your blog! I love it! Thanks for the kiss with Michael! But yeah, I definitely will mention it to David.
Oh, and if it’s not asking too much, could you put me in a sex scene with Ramiele? She’s in the audience tonight. I can’t do anything with her physically, because she’s underage and way too small and fragile; I like my sex rough, so I would likely break her.
So do you think you could do something in your blog? Like making her a year older, a foot or two taller and a lot less prudish?
Rebel Without a Clue: As a matter of fact, I had given you a cybersex scene with her in last week’s “recap”, but I haven’t finished writing it yet. I’ll give you a shout when it’s out. And I’ll see what I can do tonight. Try to hug her or something, it will inspire me.
Ryan: I will. Thanks. OK, oh, shit, Rebel, I have to go, Kristy just shouted “Giddy up, already!”, so I must run. Nice talking to you.
Rebel Without a Clue: Same here. And don’t forget to tell David about my blog! And send me some of your hate mail after the show!
Oh, and Ryan? No more of that crap you pulled last week, OK? Cos’ that was mean…
Actually, if Brooke’s out tomorrow, can you do it again? My spirits really need a lift, and that would totally do it.
Ryan: I know, haha! Hey, Rebel, do you want to introduce the judges?
Rebel Without a Clue: Sure, why not?…
Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to the judges! Randy Jackson, nice peace sign Dawg! Yeah! Hi Paula, I love the fact that you came with clothes on tonight, and I love your purple top. You should lend it to me sometime. Love the colour. And hello to you Simon, don’t lift your arms up like that, buddy, you’re gonna pull something. But, hey, lovely armpits!
Hey, thanks Ryan, that was fun!
Ryan: No problem. Hey, while we’re at it, do you want to announce Wittle David too?
Rebel Without a Clue: You betcha!
And now ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome our first contestant of the night, Wittle David, on Ammmmeeeeerrrican Idol!
This is so cool! Can I do it again next week?
Ryan: I don’t know, I’ll have to ask. I sure am gonna get hell for tonight, but hey, I kinda feel like I owe you, and it’s much safer for my ass to have a 5 minutes conversation with a blogger in the middle of a live TV show, than to say “Sorry for last week, Michael Australia.” That would mean the end of my career on Idol, and probably of my radio show too, since folks who listen to me, do it because I’m “the guy on Idol”. No one had had a clue who I was before…”
Wittle David toddles onto the stage and pulls Ryan’s sleeve: “Can I sing my song now?”
Ryan: Can’t you see I’m talking?
Ah, kids, these days, let me tell you. OK, Rebel, as you see, I have to run. This stupid show ain’t gonna host itself. Later!
So, you, yeah… So what are you gonna sing?
Wittle David: I forgot the title. Which is bad news and does not bode well for my performance, but what the heck, people love me anyway, even if it’s not in a dirty, sexual way like they do with the other David. But maybe, you can just roll my clip, while I I go over my lyrics one last time?
Ryan: Geez, just take the show over, why don’t you?… Yeah, actually, you do that. Here’s my mike, and good luck. I’m going to say hi to Ramiele.
Wittle David: But… Oh well… OK, so this clip tells the story of me when I first met Mariah Carey yesterday…
Ryan: Not so quick, my tiny Wittle friend… you have to bring out the other…. hey, hi Ramiele, honey, how are you? I missed you so much, I…
Wittle David: Guys? Can you come out?
America, this my “competition”. Hahaha!
Ok, so I was saying that this clip…
Ryan: No, you have to roll the Mariah bio now. You’re a pretty shitty host, Archuleta. Syesha did a much better job hosting last week, it’s just that the world doesn’t yet know about it, because Rebel couldn’t get her freakin’ “recap” in on time. Anyway, sit down, David, and shut up.”
Hey, it’s nice to be out of that discussion! How are you guys doing? Hanging in there? Would you like to learn some facts about Mariah Carey, besides the fact that she is the tartiest looking singer in the world?
She was sporting a really bad perm at some point, she was a cute baby but it didn’t last, she won Five Grammys, two of which she wears as earrings, and she kicked Elvis’s butt by having more number 1 hits than him, all of which when he was still alive. At age five, Mariah used to prance around naked in stilettos while pushing those high notes that make Paula’s Chihuahuas go berserk.
And talking about dogs, Mariah brought hers to meet the Idols. I think Mariah brings her dog everywhere. I saw her on Live with Regis and Kelly once, and she had her dog too.
But at least, hers is able to walk by itself and doesn’t have to be carried around everywhere in an expensive handbag like a fucking princess, Tinkerbell.
I mean, I still can’t stand her, but Mariah seems to be a pretty cool mentor. She says she feels uncomfortable with judging, and tells the Idols that if she gives them a piece of advice that they don’t like, they can just go “Whatever”, roll their eyes, and leave the room if they want. She adds that Idol is the boot camp of boot camps, which is probably true.
Just to test Wittle David’s patience a wittle more, Ryan decides to go and have a chat with the judges.
“Hey, how are you guys doing!? Having fun? Randy, what’s up Dawg, what is the danger for these guys to go for these big stars songs like Mariah or Whitney, that they probably wouldn’t choose if we didn’t force them to, with the evident exception of Syesha, who lives for this shit?
Randy opens this mouth, but both Paula and Simon cut him off, all “Ha, don’t listen to Randy, Ryan, he’s full of crap! All he can say is “Dawg” and “pitchy”. Ask us a question!”
Ryan: Nah, I don’t want to. I want to ask Randy a question.
Randy: OK, if no one in this joint sings sometime soon, I’ll go and sing myself.
Ryan: Next up is David Archuleta.
Wittle David is both fascinated and disgusted by the gigahuge amounts of skin that Mariah displays… all the time. It’s the first time he sees something that so resembles a naked woman, and it’s really doing a number in his underpants. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and immediately, he goes into falsetto.
Wittle David, in between two gasps, lets us know how fantastic Mariah is, and how he loves her advice, and I can already tell that this is gonna be freaking cheesier than cheese.
Mariah says she loves his voice, and Wittle David faints, because he hasn’t eaten in three days.
Wittle David wants to channel My David, and shows up an ill-fitting pair of leather pants, as well as some crappy red T-shirt with stuff on it. It’s quite funny actually, Wittle David, trying to look all mean rocker, while singing a Mariah Carey ballad. Shoulda kept that outfit for that time when he sang half of a song that could be considered as rock, if you stretch it. Remember Beatles week? Or, rather, weeks…?
The song picks up, but it’s still boring, totally soppy, not in the least my thing. So it’s a “Meh” for me.
RANDY: Yo, check it out, when I was in the shower earlier on, it just occurred to me that, shit, the guys tonight…
Wittle David’s dad: Don’t curse in front of my son, please.
Randy: Sorry. So yeah, all the guys tonight are going to have to sing a girl’s song, and that might suck, bec…
Wittle David’s dad: Did you hear what I just said?
Randy: “Suck” isn’t a curse word.
My David suddenly shows up, pocket dictionary in hand. “I was doing crossword puzzles in the back, and I overheard you guys, and since I always bring a dictionary with me when I come here, because God knows how long your nonsense can last sometimes I thought I’d help you people out.
Mr. Archuleta, “suck” isn’t a curse word, although one of its uses is described as “slang” which still isn’t quite the same thing. If “suck” was a curse word, it would be described as offensive. Bye.”
Randy gets up to give My David a standing ovation. “Sit down, you idiot.”. Simon growls. “Are you done with your critique, now?”
Randy: I haven’t even started actually. So yeah, I got dead worried about the guys singing a girl song, because that has like totally never happened since Dolly Parton two weeks ago.
But dude, that was the bomb, David Archuleta can sing anything, and will make it sound syrupy, and by the way, here’s some trivia for you: that song was originally a duet with both Mariah and Whitney; like a diva sandwich, that song is. And Wittle David, for someone who suffers from lyrical amnesia, singing both parts of a duet is remarkable.
PAULA: It must be great for Mariah to get to hear your version of this song…
SIMON: Hahahahahaha! (Seriously you guys, Simon has a case of the giggles, and that in itself, is weird. Unless Paula tickled him?) I know this song very well, and I knew you would pick it, and I knew that you would kick butt with it, because it is, like you, disgustingly sweet. Good job.
Ryan: You guys, did you know that David has anorexia? He doesn’t eat the whole week before his performance. How long has it been, David, since your last meal?
Wittle David: About nine weeks. But I do receive a lot of breast milk, as a gift from my more mature female fans, and it does the job. Look, I’m still alive, and I’m gonna win. Breast milk kicks buttocks.
Hi Carly, see you after the commercial!
Carly and Ryan are talking about Michael Australia in front of that sickening moving Coke backdrop. Ryan’s all “Isn’t David Cook like, a total wuss? He was bawling his eyes out when Mike went down the trapdoor. I mean, how pathetic is that? Fucking pussy! Haha!”
Carly: Actually, Ryan, it’s not pathetic at all. We were all crying, although David Cook was indeed faking, because he is happy about the girls situation, and he was also fed up with Michael asking him to Google songs for him all the time. David’s already working for me, Syesha and Jason, so Michael on top was just too much. I mean look at David’s performance last week… Speaks for itself, doesn’t it?
Ryan: Ouch, that was mean. You’re a complete bitch, aren’t you? I think I like you.
Anyway, how’s life at boot camp without the Australian hunk?
Carly: Actually, it’s really bizarre, because it’s only since he’s been gone that I realize how boring the others are. DC’s only really funny when he’s someone’s sidekick. By himself, he sucks, he’s got his nose in his fucking crossword puzzles all the time.
My David, from backstage: I heard that, Carly. And FYI, right now, I’m doing ‘word search’, so you can suck my dick.
Carly: Oops, my bad. Anyway, yeah, Michael was a complete goof, and when he left, he took away the spirit of the competition so now, we just don’t care anymore; and he also took away most of the eye candy; you’ll see, all the girls are gonna suck tonight, with the possible exception of Brooke who’s not into men all that much. Actually, she’s barely into people…
Carly and Divah are seen hugging. Mariah thinks that Carly made a wise decision by picking “Without you”, and she also made a smart choice with the notes that she picked to compliment her range. (Great, more musician jargon, I love it, bring it on.) Carly sounds good, but she needs to be more confident.
Hey, wait a minute, I know this song… This is a Mariah song? Really? Let me Google it… Ha. Badfinger. I knew it. There was no way Mariah Carey could ever have written a song that I like.
There are some weird notes in this. Carly’s lower register ain’t all that sock-blowing. When she hits the big notes towards the end, she’s great; however, Mariah’s comment on “smart notes” does make some sense now.
I thought it was alright, but I wasn’t crazy about Carly’s performance. The end was good, the start, not so much.
RANDY; Yo, check it out. (Dawg has to wait a while for the Goddam audience to stop clapping already). I liked the challenge this song represents. I liked the big notes, but the start sucked. For me, it was pretty good, but no more than that.
PAULA: I like how you can show restraint in your vocals, even though it’s no good when you do, but it’s nice to see you at least trying. And because of all those weird notes, I think it’s safe to say that you made the song your own. No way would Mariah ever have sung this song like that.
Randy: Simon Cowell?
SIMON: Yes, Randy?
Randy: Oh, no nothing. I was just announcing you.
Simon: Huh? Anyway, Carly, I wanted to hear you sing this song. It’s just too bad you fucked it up. I don’t think you pulled it off at all. Look at yourself, you’re a complete nervous wreck: you’re all wound up, you overthink everything, and we’re not feeding you just so that you can overthink; we want you to oversing, but maybe that got lost in translation. You are Irish after all.
But basically, it was an okay version.
Carly: Too bad you didn’t like it, because I did. And I had fun singing it too. So I’m happy, and that is what counts right now.
Ryan: Right now, perhaps, tomorrow, not quite so much. Do you eat before you perform?
Carly: Actually, I overeat. I overdo everything.
The three judges: You have to trust yourself and believe in yourself, and while you’re at it, you might wanna start believing in miracles too, because that might come in handy in about 25 hours…
Carly: Yes, Ryan’s right. Vote for me. Number two, look at my fingers, T.W.O. That’s me, Carly.
Ryan: That’s all right Carly, I think they got it. When we come back, we’ll hear from Syesha.
Syesha grins at us from the stage front steps.
And why wouldn’t she? She can finally do a diva song without having to pull tricks and find “obscure” covers from country songs!
When we come back, Ryan is standing in the middle of the peppit, surrounded by lots of tiny blondes who all look exactly the same.
Syesha doesn’t get a hug from Mariah. Mariah doesn’t get one from Syesha either, actually.
“Vanishing” is a song that Mariah wrote when she was a teenager, but it still somehow one of her favourites.
Mariah gave Syesha some pointers earlier on, and seems well impressed with her.
“Syesha did a great job, and made a smart song choice. She’s very cool, very composed and not much of a hugger, which is something that I, being a non-hugger myself, can appreciate.
I do come across as hugger, but that is what show-business does to you. Show-biz folks just LOVE to air-hug and air-kiss all the time. They think it makes them look cool, although it’s quite the opposite.
Anyway, Syesha is awesome, because she is, like me, a diva, and she was the only one who was enthusiastic at the idea of singing one of my songs. That greasy rocker guy had one heck of a long face, when he walked in here! Haha! So Syesha is my fave, and the one I will be voting for tonight.”
Since Mariah Carey’s songs are all boring ballads full of runs and “aaahhooohhaaas” that stretch until dawn, I can’t fault Syesha for not jumping happily on this golden opportunity. At least not this week.
So predictably, Syesha picked a boring ballad, the name of which I forgot, but that you can Google yourself if you care, because I don’t. This song is stuffed with runs and ooos and aahhhhs, and I bet you Syesha is having a freaking blast up there, with all those notes.
Personally, I don’t like it, but that was to be expected. But she’s good I guess… I don’t know.
Worse than persecuting Syesha, I’ve kinda lost interest in her, which sucks for her, because it means she gets less “blogging equivalent of ‘face-time'” on my blog. At least, Sunshine is still getting attention from me, and there is no such thing as bad publicity. So too bad for you Syesha. Redeem yourself, do a disco song next week, and maybe I’ll give you a nickname. Just don’t bore me anymore.
RANDY: Yo, for the last couple of weeks, you’ve been chasing tigers, and I give you credit for that, because they’re very dangerous animals, so I find you very brave.
You keep tackling songs that are way too big for you, and somehow make a half decent job out of it. There were some pitchy (!) parts, but all things considered, you did a pretty good job.
PAULA: You are being smart this week, girl. Way to go, picking one of Mariah’s favourite songs, you suck-up, you!
I don’t blame you though, people like Mariah Carey are brilliant; I mean, they can write their own shit, you imagine?! I never was able to do that!
But anyway, it’s not a well-known song, so that took balls from you to pick it, and I also love how you go from soft vocals to powerful ones, and that, way better than Carly. It was unbelievably magical.
(I thought it was unbelievably yawny, but that’s just me.)
Randy: Simon Cowell?
SIMON: Yes, what is it Randy?
Randy: Oh, it’s nothing, I was just announcing you again.
Simon: Well stop, it’s irritating. I keep thinking that you want to make a point, and then I remember that you’re unable to make points. You’re throwing me off.
OK, Syesha, technically, it was very very good. It’s just that you’re a robot. But anyway, I’m not sure about you taking the risk of singing an unknown song at this point in the competition. It could prove dumb, in the short run…
Paula: Who cares if it’s an unknown song? People liked it. (Good point, kitten.)
Ryan: So what do you judges think about tonight’s theme choice, Simon?
Simon: It’s half and half for me, and I prefer full fat. But so far, Wittle David, my Wittle pet, has stolen the show. Or at least, a third of it.
Paula: Syesha too. She stole the show too. (What’s up with Paula tonight? She’s almost sharp! I almost like her, and not just because she’s fun to make fun of!)
Ads. Canadian Idol ads. Which I doubt I will recap, because it airs in the summer, and summer in Montreal means: July. So you’ll find me outside.
When we come back, Ryan is trying to calm down Brooke, who likely just had an episode with electricity, since her hair wouldn’t pass through your average doorway.
She is wearing a shiny black dress and some kind of afro which I’d be tempted to call “bedroom hair”, if it belonged to anyone but Brooke. But since we all know that Sunshine is nothing but a prude and a tease, there is no way that wild hair can be due to wild sex. Hence my blaming it on electricity.
Poor Sunshine is really bummed, because her sister (great, there are two of these; I wonder if the sister also has this annoying tendency to okay everything all the time too…) got married on Saturday, and Brooke was told that she couldn’t go. Nigel Lythgoe had a little chat with her that went kinda like this:
“Brooke, when you asked if you could go to Nova-Scotia to see your Canuck family, we said yes. We never gave you crap for all the times you hogged half of the show with your okays and your talking back and cutting off the judges. Even when the difficulties with the Dancing With the Stars people started, we didn’t say anything.
But now, you’re pushing your luck. Sister wedding? You do know it won’t last, right? Most marriages end after like three years. I’ve had six wives myself, and that, in the space of five years. Why do you think I’m working so hard at making this show as pathetically sensationalistic as possible? I need the dough; I have to pay all these lasses to keep them away from me, and they all have expensive habits.
So even if you miss that wedding, it doesn’t matter, because there will be another one in a couple of years, and my little finger tells me that you’ll be available for that one. Hey, who knows, it might even be yours. Modern Mormons do divorce: just ask Marie Osmond.
Brooke: Okay, but BWAHHHH! Nigel, I really want to go! Please, okay, please? Okay?
Nigel: No, Brooke. No. Stop making requests already. We’ve done you more favours than to all the other contestants put together. We didn’t even shed a cent to fly David Cook’s brother over here, they had to work out a way to do it by themselves.
So no, this week-end you’re staying here, and you’re working on your dancing, which absolutely sucks. You’re gonna need it, we’re giving you a slutty disco song next week, and we want to see you shake your booty, although you barely have one.
Brooke: But Nigel, people dance at weddings, I can practice over there.
Nigel: We have Mariah Carey here. She’s the sluttiest looking singer like, ever. You can learn a lot from her, and you will, believe me.
Brooke: BWAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! But Nig…. BWAHHHHH… I’m scared Nigel… Mariah Carey, she’s…
Nigel: She’s what? Expensive? She sure is, why do you think we couldn’t shed a penny for the Cook family? We invested all the extra money that we made on the Idol Gives Back commercials on Mariah and her dog, who is also very expensive, for such an ugly mutt.
Brooke: No Nigel, she’s, snifff, a… bbbbad influence…
Nigel: Mariah? A bad influence? Well duh! Of course she is, why do you think we brought her here? You and Wittle David really need to spice it up a little, because you Mormons are boring. At least, you have that bad attitude of yours going for you, which makes for half-decent television; but what does Wittle David have going for him, besides being a talented boy? How the hell are we going to create buzz around him, if he’s not caught in some sex scandal, or if he doesn’t have a past as a gay stripper?
So we brought Mariah in to wake his teenage urges, and make at least half a man out of him. And it kinda worked; I mean, did you see the leather pants? Although we kinda had to put him in those mostly for technical reasons: leather dissimulates erections much better than your average denim, and Wittle David has been sporting a permanent boner since Mariah walked in here. Since Idol is a family show, we cannot allow to have a Wittle boy singing soppy ballads with a humongous hard-on, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
Brooke: Please don’t say H.E.L.L., it ‘s bad. You have to say “evil” instead.
But anyway Nigel, BWAAHHHH!!! Wittle David, he’s the problem. He flashed me yesterday. And you’re right about the… you know… “It” was… bigger. Well, at least “it” was visible.
And that freaked me out, okay? That’s why I wanted to go to my sister’s wedding. To get away from him.
And also from David Cook and Carly, who have been giving me the cold shoulder since Michael went home, as if it had something to do with me.
The only one who still talks to me is Jason, and that’s only when he’s stoned, which is all the time he’s not on stage, and when he does talk to me, he’s completely incoherent.
I want to go HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOme, BWAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Nigel: Fine. You go home, you don’t come back, and we’re bringing back Michael Johns instead, since I’ve received millions of requests for a wildcard show, featuring him, and only him.
How’s that working for you?
Brooke: BWAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! NO! It’s not working for me, okay? I just want to have my cake and eat it too.
Nigel: Well, you can’t. I’ve really had it with you now. I’ll get security to deal with Wittle David and his boner, but that’s it.
Now please go away. David Cook wants to ask me if he can go for dinner with his family after the show on Tuesday, and have his curfew extended by one hour, and I might say yes, because the only thing he’s asked for so far, was a pocket dictionary. And I can only do one favour a week. So get out.
Wow, Nigel is a toughie, isn’t he? Poor Sunshine, she’s crying rivers while she’s talking to Ryan. “So Brooke, what did you do when you found out that Nigel didn’t want to do you yet another favour?”
Brooke: I attempted suicide by electricity (Ha! I knew it!). I do have long slender fingers, but they’re still too big to fit in the outlet. So I took off the strings of my guitar, and inserted them in the holes, but they’re made of nylon, so it didn’t do anything.
Then, in despair, I asked if one of the others could smother me with a pillow, but no one would indulge, so I gave it a shot myself, and believe me, it’s not feasible by yourself. Plus, it does a number on your hair. I mean, look at me.
Ryan: Yeah, you totally look like shit alright. But did they let you talk to your sister at all?
Brooke: I texted her, because it’s so much more personal than a phone call. Then I spent the rest of the day crying, locked up in my room, so that Wittle David wouldn’t come in again.
Ryan: Was your sister sad that you couldn’t make it?
Brooke: She texted me back that yes, it kinda spoilt it for her too.
Ryan: Why didn’t they just put a cardboard cutout of you with a tape-cassette with “Okay” recorded on it, and play it on a loop? No one would have noticed. You’re skeletal, and boring, so the cardboard cutout would have fooled everyone.
Brooke: She wanted me to sing a song for her wedding.
Ryan: Someone could have just played your “Here comes the sun” performance, that would have changed her mind. Anyway, whatever. What are you gonna sing?
Either “hero’, or “heroes’, I forgot.
It’s a song that Mariah wrote for Gloria Estefan (have you ever seen Gloria Estefan’s dog? She’s a bulldog called Noelle, she’s awesome! She was a guest on the View a while back, great interviewee, although a bit drooly.)
For some mysterious reason, Mariah likes Sunshine. She loves how she feels the words of the song. Her only advice for her: be in the moment.
Brooke: Okay, but at this moment, I’m miserable, because Nigel Lythgoe was like, really really mean to me.
Mariah: Well, then just be miserable, and make people share your pain. Try to make them cry, it’s a good strategy. Sure seems to works like a charm for that little boy, the one who’s walking around with tighty-whiteys over his pants.
Mariah concludes by saying that she hopes people will hear this song as something new, which must be another way to say “She’s made the song her own.”
Surprisingly enough, I do know that song too. Hmm, I wasn’t aware that Mariah Carey had managed to sneak into my life and my brain like this…
Sunshine is sitting at the piano. Immediately, I try to spot if she is wearing shoes or not.
I actually don’t mind it, I kinda like her voice. It really is HER that I can’t stand, but she sure is talented enough. I still haven’t forgiven her for almost breaching my hatred towards her with her rendition of “Every breath you take”.
But really, it’s the songs that bore the fuck out of me tonight, so I don’t even know if I can really fault the contestants for my constant dozing off.
Brooke is alright, but she really doesn’t have that strong of a voice, which isn’t a plus when you have to take on diva songs, especially THAT particular Divah, whose voice has the power to simultaneously drive all the North-American Chihuahuas completely bonkers. Listen well tomorrow night; after Mariah’s performance, mute your TV and open the window; you will sure hear howling, unless you live in the desert. And even then. For all we know, Mariah’s high notes may also work on coyotes and other wild dogs.
But back to Sunshine, I thought it was overall okay, but her voice did get pretty shaky a couple of times. Too big a song for her, I think.
She fishes her shoes from under the piano, looks for one second like she’s about to throw them at Carly and David C who are laughing at her and making obscene gestures in her direction, but then she changes her mind, puts her shoes on, and clumsily jogs towards the judges.
RANDY: Check it out, check it out. I like that singer-songwriter vibe of yours, especially since you didn’t even write that song.
I liked it until the bridge, but then the bridge collapsed, because of faulty infrastructure, and the rest of the song went down with it.
Brooke: Yeah, I knew it was gonna happen, since it had already happened before. I think I may have damaged my vocal cords while trying to end my life with a fluffy pillow. But anyway, thank you Randy, and okay.
PAULA: What I like about you is that you are authentic and identifiable. Especially with that hair. I love your voice, and I think it was brave of you to do an unplugged version of this song, although I doubt you would have been able to do anything else. I love your voice, but you have this tendency to speed up the song, like you’re in a rush to end it.
Brooke: But I WAS in a rush; Carly and David C kept flinging spitballs at my neck while I was performing. My chastity undergarments are full of them, it’s disgusting, and also, it hurt a little.
SIMON: I don’t think you had much choice but to do that song, since you have no range, and this one doesn’t have too too many notes.
To me, this was a little like ordering a hamburger at the drive-in, and opening the box 6 miles further, to realize that you paid 2.99$ for a bun. The main part is missing, and that means, you got ripped-off.
Brooke, Okay, but…
Simon: No, Brooke. Don’t okay me, okay? I’m sorry, girl, but if you think your voice is strong enough to carry this type of song, then that electrocution experiment that you did wasn’t a complete failure.
You’re about as exciting as a tofu burger, and I’m a fan of red meat. And there was none in your performance.
Brooke opens her mouth to say “Okay, but…”, but Simon shushes her with a menacing throat-slicing gesture, so she just pouts and looks pissed, to communicate to us that she doesn’t like being called out on her blandness.
P/R: There so was meat in her performance.
Simon: No, I’m telling you, this was a vegetarian burger.
Randy: I disagree. It was definitely a meat burger, although probably not a beef one. But extra-lean turkey, or fat-free chicken are technically speaking, meat.
I’ll give you one thing though, it had no condiments. No mustard, no ketchup, no nothing, so it was indeed a bit dry.
Brooke bites her bottom lip, kicks herself in the thigh, winces in pain, but remains silent.
Ryan: … You… you’re not talking… What’s up? Cat got your tongue?
Brooke: I’m allergic to cats, Ryan. please, read my number, I’d like to go cry in the bathroom now.
Mariah Carey is happy that Krist-Hee picked “Forever”, whatever it is. She seems pretty impressed with Krist-Hee, and says that she delivered the song really well, and that she even gave her goose bumps, which must be a pretty cool thing to hear from Mariah Carey. I don’t like her, but if she told me that, I would be flattered.
And Krist-Hee is totally flattered. I haven’t exactly done a 180 on Krist-Hee, but I sure did at least a 90, because bizarrely enough, I don’t hate her.
She really seems genuinely happy when she says that Mariah told her her voice gave her goose bumps. Good for her.
And she’s all sweet when she asks Mariah “Can I hug you?” Aww.
Mariah’s all “Of course you can, just don’t squeeze too hard, I had my boobs refilled yesterday, and they’re still a bit sore; and there is still a danger of explosion. Which is why I’m exceptionally wearing a bra today.
Once again, it’s a boring ballad. Why did they put the hottest contestant ever, on the season with the shittiest themes ever? Because I’d like to remind you that Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber is still lurking in the Opera’s shadows, somewhere…
Krist-Hee can pull off the boring ballad stuff, so she’s good, her voice is good, and I think she’ll be safe, especially since she’s still got the VFTW folks voting their asses off for her. I think they’re making a mistake, honestly. Krist-Hee won’t win, but she’s nowhere near as bad as I hoped she was, plus she’s pretty and very marketable. I think they should switch to Jason, who has no chance in hell of winning this, since he’s got way too much personality, and always manages to inject his own coffee-shop vibe in his performances, no matter what he sings, or that he sings in front of millions of people.
That’s what I love about Jason: he doesn’t give a fuck. He just does his own thing, and doesn’t try to please anyone but himself, and that is perfectly cool with me.
But let’s get back to Krist-Hee who is feeling super-horny tonight, and keeps on trying to discreetly sexually molest Ryan.
Ryan: Hey, Rebel Without a Clue, I asked you for a sex scene with Ramiele, not with that nymphomaniac…!
Rebel Without a Clue: Yeah, I’m doing my best, Ryan, but I can’t possibly ignore the fact that Krist-Hee is trying to take off your shirt. I mean, I do know that my “recaps” are made out of 90% bullshit, vs. 10% twisted reality, but I do have to somehow hold on to that 10%, although it really is the other 90% which lends me some credibility as a “recapper”. Or at least that keeps my three readers coming back here to read my crap.
I told you Ryan, you need to inspire me. Go sit next to Pikachu, and grab her boob, or whatever, but give me something.
Ryan: Yeah, you’re right, sorry. OK, I’ll go see her during the next commercial break. Are you done with Krist-Hee yet? Can you get her off me at least?
Rebel Without a Clue: Krist-Hee, get off Ryan please, you’re freaking him out. I’ll find you a guy next week, since you surely will be back. Maybe even tomorrow, I will. But for the time being, please behave; I can only fit two or three sex scenes max per “recap”, I already promised Ryan one, and the other two are for me and My David. So be patient, and let’s hear what the judges have to say about you.
RANDY: Yo, it wasn’t amazing, you had a couple of pitchy (!!) notes at the start, but you stepped it up at the end, with some nice big notes.
PAULA: You’re a smart cookie, Krist-Hee. You’ve totally blown me out of my socks, and I’m a chick. It’s great that there are young people like you around, to inject new life in the tarnished, dusty musical legacy of that Mariah Carey has-been. This song could totally be a hit in that redneck confederate fanbase of yours.
Randy: Simon Cowell?
SIMON: Oh, for Christ’s sake Randy, can you stop this already?
Randy: I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.
Simon: Somehow, I doubt it. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, Krist-Hee, can you let go of Ryan for a second, please? Thanks.
I don’t understand how Mariah Carey managed to get chills with that song of yours. Maybe she should dress up more warmly, or at least, dress up. Walking around in your underwear all the time might be conducive to you getting chilly.
I thought it was quite a smart song choice, but it wasn’t great. And honestly, I thought it was a bit whiny.
Krist-Hee: Oh c’mon Simon, you can call me a lot of things, but whiny is not one of them. I’m a suck-up and a fake, a tease and a shameless flirt, but I’m not whiny. Actually, I’m quite the opposite; I’m upbeat and full of fun amusing soundbites, like “I’ll blow you out of your socks” or “I’m proud to be an American”.
Simon: You have a point.
Paula: And you look beautiful tonight. Actually, all the girls look really good tonight. Which means that tomorrow, we’ll have an all-female bottom 4 for a change.
Krist-Hee: Come here Ryan, come near me, I want to feel your bum…
Ryan: I don’t really wanna.
Ryan has gone to sandwich himself between Carly and David C, to protect himself against Krist-Hee’s insatiable sexual appetite, but to no avail. She grabs him by the hand, and pulls him towards the centre of the stage, then she takes him firmly by the waist and starts fondling his privates, while throwing lustful glances at the camera, eyes half closed, mouth half open.
Meanwhile, Ryan is furiously fumbling with his cue cards, re-reads Wittle David’s number by mistake. He eventually he manages to wrestle himself out of Krist-Hee’s iron grip, and runs down in the audience while screaming: “Please don’t vote for Krist-Hee, she’s dangerous and she scares me and I don’t want to have sex with her so please don’t vote for her.”
My David, who’s up next, is up on the platform, laughing hysterically as Krist-Hee chases Ryan in the audience. When he realizes the camera is on him, he quickly pulls himself together, and delivers one of his smiles who have the power to immediately transform me into a pitiful puddle.
Ads. Oprah is still determined to upstage Idol Gives Big with her Oprah’s Big Head.
When we come back, Ryan is sitting in the audience next to Ramiele (Hi Pikachu! Did you read my ode to you? If there is anything by me that you may want to read, that post would be it, because I’m nice to you in it.)
Ryan is all agitated, while he’s explaining to Pikachu what a freaky sex addict Krist-Hee is.
Then Ryan sees the camera is on him, so he waves at me, points at Ramiele, then grabs her by the shoulders, squeezes her and she lets out a little “Yelp!”, then he kisses her on the top of her head.
“This is Ramiele, you guys”, Ryan says excitedly. “Rebel, have you seen Ramiele? Should I lift her up for you?”
Rebel: I don’t know what I can come up with Ryan, really. You guys just look too pure and cute, it’s difficult to picture the both of you naked at once in the same room. Are you sure you don’t want to do anything with Krist-Hee? She seems well into you.
Ryan: No way I’m going with that skank. She’s demented. Put me in something with Simon rather. Hey, you, give me that hat.
Ryan grabs some poor dude’s hat, puts it on his head, and starts to do a little comedy routine for Pikachu.
Since Ryan is so busy playing with his wittle toy-doll, My David takes it upon himself to get on with the show.
He is seen in this clip, awkwardly hugging Mariah. Not because he’s awkward as a person, but he’s carrying his guitar, which is getting in the way, and she’s carrying her boobs, which are also getting in the way.
Mariah says she was surprised by My David’s song choice, and she had no idea that an obscure garage band from Denver had covered that song of hers, the title of which I do not know, because I didn’t write it down. Here. You look.
My David says that he thinks he’s taking a step outside the box with his song choice, and Mariah agrees, saying he did something different with the song, and that his voice is really haunting, and I agree with her to a certain extend, because personally, I find that every single parcel of his being is haunting. Seriously, how do I get this guy? Witchcraft? Abduction? Stalking? Trying to sneak my ass into the top 6 next week? Sleeping with Simon?
Rebel: OK, Ryan, listen buddy, if you can get me My David’s phone number, I’ll let you cop a feel next time you swing by Montreal. If you can get me a date, I’ll let you get to second base with me, which is lucky for you my friend, because they’re real, and they’re spectacular…! (Recognize this?) 😉
And if he rejects me, then I’ll go all the way with you, just out of spite; but I’ll just lie there without moving, and let you do all the work.
Ryan: How do I know if they’re as spectacular as you say?
Rebel: Because I’m telling you. I’ll send My David a picture of them as an incentive, ask him to show it to you, and tell him I said it was OK if you saw it.
Ryan: What’s your cup size, like?
Rebel: Ryan, I’m not sharing this on national TV. I’m a 36-C.
Ryan: What’s your cup size, Ramiele?
Pikachu: Like the rest of me: X-small, and X-cute.
Wow, is it me or is it getting hot in here? My TV has smoke coming out the back, and so do I.
Dear My David, can you become ugly please? You’re really distracting, I find. And even if you were ugly, I’d probably still love you anyway, but it wouldn’t be quite so overwhelming. No one should be allowed to be that hot, not even you. So stop. At least, grow a full beard for next week, I’m not crazy about them.
Tonight, My David is alone on stage, no guitar.
Again, the song is boring as fuck, but I really do love, love his voice, and I’m not kidding when I say I’d love him even if he looked like Shane Mc Gowan. He really does sing beautifully, and when he looks at me like that, with his eyes completely closed, a flow of inappropriate thoughts flood my mind, and makes me want to do inappropriate things with the television set, but that would be stupid and probably painful.
Ok, just give me a couple of seconds to get my imminent fantardiness attack out of my system, and I’ll be right back.
OMG he’s so hot, and the look in his eyes is so deep that it crosses the 18 states as well as the few provinces that separate us, and it stabs me right through the heart. Ouch. I It hurts. Don’t try this at home, kids.
Then OMG, those eyes, they’re so beautiful. OMG he’s so hot. OMG OMG. I’m like, totally in love with him. OMG… …
OK, thank you for your patience, I think I’m done… No, wait, there’s a little left…
OMG, he’s so awesome. Although I don’t really like his pants, the cut isn’t very flattering. A pair of faded, ripped 501’s would be way better.
Ok, my fantardiness attack must be coming to a close, since my critical self seems to have returned.
He’s kinda doing something that is like an awkward, but cute version of dancing, then he grabs his mike-stand and does his sexy super-mega-giga hot rocker thing with it, and this guy is incredible, he can even rock something as cheesy as a boring Mariah Carey ballad! Fan-fucking-tastic, he is! His high notes are great, his low notes are great, everything is great besides his pants, and maybe a very slight excess of facial hair. But man, is he hot and gorgeous and all that…!
So duh, I loved his performance.
Maybe subconsciously, I didn’t get around to “recap” last week’s show out of denial: that way, I could both deny that My David sucked last week, and that Michael Australia left the building for good. I don’t know, but it strikes me as a rational explanation.
RANDY: Yo, dude,
My David flashes a smile at me, and I fall off the sofa.
Randy: You know what, dude? You’re ready to make an album. I haven’t given any standing ovation this year, because I recently developed a new phobia, and knowing that people can stare at my butt makes me very paranoid, but for you, I will stand up. Best of the night.
And then, Dawg stands up and claps and My David smiles sweetly and humbly, and I, fall off the sofa again.
PAULA: That was pretty awesome, and you are pretty awesome. You are the whole package, and you have a nice package, too bad it’s not more obvious. It’s those pants; you should wear faded ripped 501’s next week, and play the guitar with your shirt off. We’ve had a request from someone from Canada about it.
But David? You are IT.
SIMON: David, this was like coming out of karaoke hell, and you, are a breath of fresh air. This was daring, original, and showed how much potential you have as an artist. You took a risk, and tonight, you stood out by a mile.
(I’d like y’all to please note that in the short paragraph above, there is absolutely no bullshit. It’s rare, enjoy it.)
My David looks really happy, he reacts humbly to the praise, and he is so damn cute he almost annoys me. Stop it!
Ryan: Hey, I never thought I’d hear a rocker singing a Mariah Carey song one day! And it didn’t even suck! Whose version did you pinch this week? Oh ,I shouldn’t have said that. It was good though; you are one nifty sonofabitch, Cook, aren’t you? Plenty of tricks up your sleeve, huh?
… Hey, what’s up, you got tears in yours eyes?
Yep, My David is tearing up, and is all emotional, which is very probably due to his brother being present in the audience. It’s such a sweet, touching, sincere moment; we se a shot of Adam, in the audience, smiling, and he must be really proud of his little bro, and David must be real happy to have his big bro there. It was lovely, and it only makes me love him even more, and man, Adam, I sincerely send all the good vibrations in the world your way. Best of luck.
David Cook is really great, you guys. There’s a rumour that he’s dating Lacey, from So You Think You Can dance, but since it’s only a rumour started by OK magazine, I choose to ignore it.
However, HERE is the story of how his brother Adam made his way to American idol. Good for him, I hope they all have a great time.
I was so swept away by so much unsuspected perfection among the male gender, that I had forgotten all about another pretty decent specimen of the male gender, in the person of Jason Castro.
But before we can get to Jason, Ryan has a message for me.
Since Nigel won’t let him verbalize directly to me anymore, Ryan has to communicate to me his frustration with Ramiele via sign language. He goes to some guy, or girl, in the audience, grabs his or her cardboard sign, and rips it into tiny little pieces, which he then throws in Ramiele’s face. She starts sniffling. Ryan spits at her “Oh, enough with the waterworks, you fucking brat!”, then stops briefly in front of the camera, whispers “Rebel, you get to finish early today; forget about the sex scene. I’m more in the mood to get drunk now. I’m going out to hit the bottle with Carly and her husband after the show.”
Rebel: You sure you don’t want to dip your hot-dog in Krist-Hee’s mayo?
But he’s not listening to me anymore, he’s gone to poke Jason, who’s dozed off on a chair.
Jason: Huh? What time is it?
Ryan: Where’s your guitar? You’re up.
Jason: I forgot it, and David Cook forgot his too, so tonight, I’ll just feel naked, but that’s okay, Mariah Carey told me it was okay to be comfortable in the nude.
Jason is going to sing “I don’t wanna/want to cry”. “She gave me a cool melody” he says, “and I LOVE it!” (lol at Jason, he’s so funny!)
Mariah finds him interesting, different, and unique, but also somewhat stubborn.
“I’m looking forward to see his performance, just because I want to know if he’s gonna use any of the industrial quantity of little ideas that I gave him, and that he seemingly wasn’t listening to at all. Where is this guy’s head at, anyway?”
Jason is sitting on his favourite hemp-stuffed stool, naked. As in without any instrument whatsoever, and you see that this is making him nervous, because he’s manically manipulating a Rubik’s Cube. He’s surrounded by a group of guys who are banging on tambourines, or tam-tams, whatever they are.
I’m not too sure about this. I quite like the arrangements, because it makes the song not sound like a Mariah Carey song, which is a big plus, but this isn’t sock-blowing. There’s a bit of falsetto here and there, naturally, I hate the song, and I find his voice to be a bit whiny at times.
RANDY: Check it out, baby, I didn’t love it. I thought it felt like…
(nothing. I mean that for some bizarre reason, I just stopped writing in the middle of the sentence, dunno why. Anyway, Dawg didn’t love it, and that is all you need to know.)
PAULA: Right now, I would love to be at a “unknown, non-descript-never-heard-of-word-that-I-don’t-know-how-to-spell” on a beach, and hearing you sing that in the background, not too loud, so that I can still take a nap. You’re more confident, you were like totally in the zone, and it was amazing.
SIMON: I agree with…
Paula! Yep, crazy, isn’t it? I took a sip of her “Coke”, that’s why I sound like I got my head screwed on backwards, but I’m not kidding you.
It wasn’t the best vocals, but it was a cool version, and you identified with it.
And by the way, surprisingly enough, the guys totally buried the girls tonight, and that proves how good the guys are, because you can’t really get any gayer than Mariah Carey, so good job, boys.
Ryan: And th… yes, what is it Simon, you wanna say something? Hurry up, we’re running late, and I really want to be out of here ASAP. First, I’d rather not bump into Tom Bergeron in the elevator again, because he has anger issues. And also, Carly, Tattooman and I are getting disgustingly wasted tonight, in order to forget about fucking life. Hey Rebel, wanna tag along?
Rebel: Ryan, you know full well that even if I left right now, I won’t get there before the end of the season. Plus my bicycle has got a flat tire, so first, II need to lure a man in my place to get him to fix it. Maybe next time, once I get my bike fixed, and enough money to put it on a train, or better, a plane, I’ll drop by.
Paula: Simon wants beef.
(Paula, you only just got that joke? Cos it’s so half-an-hour ago…!)
OK, Jason, show me your teeth before you go? Thank you, that’s a good boy.
Then we have the recaps of the performances, but since I just ‘recapped’ the whole performances, I suggest you just scroll back up, if you wanna know what happened.
“Pitchy” count: 2
Ok, a few last minute tidbits that I found out today.
-Mariah Carey can sneak into a size 8 again, and that is thanks to eating strictly broomsticks for three months.
-This morning, on his radio show, my buddy Ryan Seacrest apologized to Michael Australia, or at least rejected the blame for his assholeness on Nigel Lythgoe. But at least he said something. Good for you Ry. To thank you, if it turns out that My David is indeed dating Lacey, maybe I’ll put you in a sex scene with me. If you like girls, that is, because Ramiele really is a toy, after all, albeit a cute and cuddly one.
You can read about Ryan and Aussie Mike in this rather brief article, or better, you can listen to the interview THERE; just scroll down the page a bit. I’ve just listened to it, and Ryan is, indeed, very apologetic.
-I’m listening to Access Hollywood right now, and David Foster said that the person who should go through the trapdoor tonight, is Sunshine.
Please, count me officially as a big David Foster fan, starting right now.
– Access is just over, and ET has just started, and Paula’s heaping a ton of well-deserved praise on My David’s head. Thanks Pauler.
My bottom three:
-Brooke (*clapping and jumping up and down* Yes, yes ,please!)
-Carly (But I really hope she’ll be safe.)
-Hmm… Syesha? Nah, Krist-Hee. Give Syesha a break, she was in her element this week. We’ll get her next week.
Boot: Oh-so hopefully Sunshine. But I reckon Carly’s in danger. Or maybe it’ll be Krist-hee, just to fuck with our minds.
Nah, one must have hope, so I’m going with my new favourite dude, David Foster, and hope to get to say bye-bye Sunshine in 101 minutes.
Best of luck to My David, who, again, served the best performance of the night. I love you man, you rock, and I’ll see you guys at the results “recap”. Later!
And just the hell of it, here’s the clip of My David’s performance, for your eyes, your ears, and what the heck, the rest of your senses. Enjoy!