And then she fucked up her solo. Now it's now, and she's sitting in the Chair with the feather ones, and some crunk-looking brown boots, and she talks about how she's always "keeping it real," and... By the way, did I even mention the six-inch treble clef tattoo stretching grotesquely up her left inner arm? That's like an entire other person's worth of bullshit.
Ill-Advised Young Person: "I want a tattoo!"
Truly Unhelpful Friend: "Gross. Of what?"
Clueless Regret Factory: "I don't know!"
Undermining Jerk Friend: "Well, do you have a personality?"
Just Asking For It: "Not in the slightest! It's why I dress like a psychotic infant and dye my hair stupid-colored!"
Beyond Caring: "Do you like anything?"
Double Bullshit Person: "Music! MUSIC IS MY LIFE! PUT MUSIC ON MY ARM FROM HERE TO HERE! LOOK WHERE I'M POINTING!"
Kara Fucking DioGuardi: "You are such a unique individual who does 'your thing.' You're going through."
Now Positively Reinforced: "Ryan, I believe in myself!"
: "Clearly."
Gone By This Time Week: [goes literally skipping off down the street like to prove she's even more of a gaywad in motion, and is for one brief sunset moment caught in flight like a gazelle over the prone body of Angela Martin, who deserves a little bit of a rest right now and who could blame her.]
! Paige with her horrible fake contacts, looking even more like a fat old homeless woman than ever before: Through. Also through: My girl Siobhan, who has turned back into a dead ringer for Robin Sparkles; Michelle Delamor, who has a great look but seems like an awful person, like in that Eva Longoria way, like you're not going to hold it against her but you have to admit that what's broken there can't ever really be completely fixed; Jermaine S with neck tattoos; John Effing Park... How many people are in 24? This seems like it's been more than what's usually in 24. Like a Baker's Top 24. One guy tries to hug Simon, which is awesome, and then Michelle D cries forever and ever just like you'd think she would... And that's still not 24? 24 now comes with... Additional?
That is so American of American Idol, to supersize an actual number. In an episode that was already supersized, in a week that was already needlessly supersized! That extra seven minutes they added for no damn reason, just like I psychically predicted they would, are a real motherfucker. Because I haven't stopped typing this whole time, and just how long this shit already is tells me that we are nearly done. But then nope, for no reason. Let's jam about 40 more people into the Top 24 because this clearly is not taking long enough.
Okay, Haeley and Tori Kelly, who I don't remember why I don't like her... Oh, her stupid hair and her mean face and her... AC Slater dimples and pretty smile. Actually, she seems like a down girl. Maybe it was some other Tori that offended me in the past this season? First let's talk about how unutterably wonderful Haeley is, in every possible way, and how I would like to kidnap her and take her to go live somewhere and make her breakfast every day. I got the baby crazies so bad, you guys, this was Xmas:
My Stepmother: "You and your sister won't shut up about babies. Why don't you guys have a baby? It would be smart, and have a lovely singing voice."
Jacob: "I'm going to go ahead and let Jenny respond first. Because I cannot be trusted to be sensible about babies right now, plus I recap Gossip Girl, where that sort of thing is not even slightly incest and to be honest happens on a constant basis. I will point out, though, that you're talking about my sister."
Jenny: "In other words, he's my brother? We are siblings?"
Stepmother: "Only sort of!"
Jacob: "Motion to table."
Jenny: "Carried."
Jenny: "You just had to give our parents champagne."
Jacob: "I'm sure that's all it was."
Jenny: "No. She had clearly been cooking that one up for awhile now."
Jacob: "Well, I have been thinking an awful lot about babies..."
Jenny: "Do I honestly need to give you a glimpse into our lives if we had a kid?"
But then sometimes I am back to sane and I don't think about kidnapping Haeley at all, so I'm sure it's just the times. Tori K sings Katy Perry -- maybe that was my problem with her? -- and it doesn't sound great. Randy babbles pointlessly and tries desperately to figure out why people do what they do, and Simon meanwhile screws with Haeley and then of course puts her wonderful ass through, but Tori doesn't get through. Her sadness smile is even lovelier than her other ones, but that clip just wasn't that great so it makes sense. Moral of the story: Do be adorable. Don't hesitate to rethink that giant belt that looks like a horse's strapped-on saddle as seen from below.
up: Thad, the gigantic toddler? Or Andrew Garcia, the most amazing guy in the competition? Ooh, that's a good one. I didn't really care about the lie that was Haeley v. Tori, but the lie that is Mr. Bubbly v. Straight Up, that's compelling television.
I still don't understand Kris Allen's point about his CD player. I've seen this commercial a hundred times and I just... Don't get it. He used to use CDs, but then ... something happened. Something like witchcraft, to hear him tell it.
But I will be damned if I can figure out what that thing is. I guess if you lived in a world without mp3s, a car with the ability to somehow fondly remember certain CDs would be confusing and/or pleasing, but... We don't live in that world, we live in a world where you can get about sixty albums on one disc that I can almost guarantee your car stereo will play, if you bought your car in the last five years. So why should I buy a car now that does something it didn't really need to do ten years ago? "Buy this HDMI flatscreen, it comes with a VCR that remembers every VHS tape you ever waved near it." And still, I think, Kris Allen would be impressed and a little suspicious of that device.
Okay, showdown. On the one hand you have Thad, who is sort of like the Glee person of this season, like, you want him to succeed but you don't really care that much, because his momma sucked up all the caring in the room. And you've got Andrew Garcia, who started talking about his family some time ago when I stopped listening, but then he did that "Straight Up" remix.
Then there's Thad shooting mean gay looks at Pianist Michael, earning Simon's amazed approval, and turning into basso Fantasia with his gorgeous voice, and then his slightly creepy giggle. So Thad hits the Chair, scared to effing death and needing a hug immediately, and Simon cuts him of course, but in an incredibly loving and respectful way. And then out the door, which I didn't want to see, because Ryan loves fat kids more than fat kids love cake, and when Ryan's little heart cracks it sounds just like the ice in my cocktail glass. Listen! You can barely hear it, but it's there. Clink.
Thad wanders off to feel terrible and misplace his groove. In a bathroom stall, crying in the arms of his mother. Just like that dream I had one time! But hey, who hasn't had that one, am I right? Right, guys?
Andrew's pretty nervous too, but Ellen's throwing sparks with her excitement about putting him through, and it's a neat moment. Andrew completely loses his mind with joy and runs around hiccuping and crying and being wonderful, and stitches Ryan's little heart back together in the end. And "Hallelujah" starts playing as they run through the 24 (half of whom will be gone in two weeks, don't forget) and it's totally inappropriate, which it's rare for that song to be used so carelessly, and then week Ellen will dance around all goofy and adorable because apparently she's bringing the entire bag of shtick, so probably she will also sing the first five lines of "Shoop" like she's been doing since 1989, and more importantly we'll be seeing Girls first. Because yeah, the Running of the Bullshit has begin, and we're looking at five fucking hours the couple weeks.
L-l-l-ladies-ladies: Didi Benami (which is French for "give me back my dead best friend" but Israeli for "absolutely magnificent"); Paige, looking as usual like somebody's alcoholic mom; Lacey Brown who actually is somebody's alcoholic grandmother; Ashley Rodriguez, who mark my words is gonna be the Jon Hamm of this dog and pony show; Sexy Bad News Twins Katelyn and Michelle; Katie Stevens doing her fiftieth adorable thing in twenty minutes, but with breasts that keep sneakin' up on you because of her American Girl Doll face; Haeley Ray of Sunshine doing some kind of lariat dance because of her whole deal; Siobhan being weird and awesome and doomed in a dress she made herself out of unusual materials and quickly looking like a succession of people all at once; Janell, wearing all the curtains; and Lilly and Crystal being fucking wretched and -- Is that...? Did she...? -- possibly a little gay?
Interesting. I mean, being Crystal and all that implies means that the whole creepy bi vibe is part of the package, but I think she means it. We shall see. Last time I pointed out that somebody on this show was a lesbian I got the grossest, creepiest, nastiest fucking Trig Palin hatemail, it was a disaster, but now years later? Check out how that little girl's daddy is the Junior Senator from Massachusetts. So... Not too shabby.
B-b-b-ballers-ballers: Todrick is a preening jerkoff; Tyler is a confusing kid with a fake ID and a sex Glock that he thinks is a BB gun; Aaron Kelly or some shit; John Park who is eternally stoked and who will be making Randy act super weird and whose bangs are all, "What's up?"; Andrew Garcia, who needs a fucking makeover STAT because he still looks like he works in the CD section of a Borders; Lee Dwyze, who apparently thinks being infuriating at all times is a valid personality; Joe Munoz, which don't even bother remembering him or his weird Interpol dancing; Tim Urban or Alex Lambert or Aaron Kelly again or whatever; Big Mike whose dad is now forgiven; Casey looking just fucking filthy gross, like Sawyer and Dick Casablancas had rough sex in the back of a laundromat to a Dairy Queen, and somehow a child was born unto them; yet another one of those thirty identical little boys with the bad skin; Jermaine wearing suspenders; credits. No Goodbye Ryan at all. I will be so happy when this shit goes live week and he's back in charge. No seven-minute motherfucks happening now, man. Nothing but blue skies from here on out. LYLAVIP.
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