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Tuesday

Seacrest finally reveals the other big format change: the final 24 will be made up of 12 "boys" and 12 "girls." The only young woman here who will potentially still be a "girl" at 28 is Elizabeth Pah!, and that's not exactly a good thing. Shunta still won't be, and Farm Boi (and yeah, he's still wearing the overalls) might well be, but those are just the exceptions that prove the rule. Most of the people that we see, we've never seen before, and almost all the people you think are going to get through this round, do, while most of the people we've seen and assumed wouldn't get through, also do. So that's nice.

The Good: Blondes Carrie Underwood (21, farm girl from OK), and Jaclyn Crum (16, basket case from OH), whose mom is embarrassing to a heretofore unknown degree. Sarah Mather (the one that looks like Kristen Kreuk, 22, Wilmington NC) sounds better than I remember. Anthony Federov (19, Trevose PA), sounds worse than I remember, but still talks like Tony Micelli. Amanda Avila (23, Vegas showgirl) and Travis Tucker (abs guy, 21, Manassas VA) may have actually gotten even hotter, and cute little Lindsey Cardinale (19, Ponchatoula LA) has improved greatly.

Beavis-looking crooner Ross Williams (26, Portland OR) sings the obvious, "Crazy Little Thing Called Love," sticking a big sign that says "Ask Me About My Inability To Be Anything Other Than A Ten-Year-Old Cliché, Daddy-O!" to his freakishly square head. Jamie Koehler, the "crooner" that I actually like, is still in, but yikes because we don't see or hear his name over and over like Anthony Federov. Sean McNeill (27, Plymouth MA), the nice bald youth pastor, sings pleasantly, and gets through.

It's mostly a no-brainer. Nadia Turner (27, Miami, with all the hair and the poise), David Brown (19, New Orleans, to whose church we went), Anwar Robinson (26, with the long braids and the awesome clothes and the working with kids, Newark NJ), and Scott Savol (28, "Tell me about the rabbits" Guy from Shaker Heights OH), who sounds amazing, of course. Melissa Figueroa (26, Cleveland OH) is both likeable and polite, and so far forgettable. Vonzell Solomon (20, Fort Meyers FL) seems to be an early favorite, though she's kind of screamy and overly dramatic in her presentation.

It's kind of boring because they're good singers, mostly, but they're all pretty much the same amount of good, and in the same way, and we haven't seen enough of them to be rooting for anybody except for the really freaky ones that are going to lose anyway, like Scott Savol, or the pop idol-looking ones that you already know are going to be in the top 12 anyway, like David Brown. Or the hot ones that you thought were ringers and instead get kicked, like Jeffery Johnson, which adds a fun little suspenseful spice to it.

Mario Vasquez (27, NYC) is damn tiny when you stand him to other people, but he sounds and looks really good. Mikalah Gordon (16, the Vegas) dresses up in normal child costume and sings a hell of a lot better than she did before, but I'm not convinced it's not all an act and she's not just hiding something even worse to spring on us later, so I'm not going to change my mind about her just yet.

Three "rockers" all get through, including fucking Constantine (28, NYC), who goes full nasal Broadway, predictably. Now I know what the people who just gut-level hated Justin from the beginning felt like. The others…well, Bo Bice (28, Helena AL) looks like a crazy survivalist who eats beetles for protein and yells Bible quotations at the people chained up in his basement. Aaron Kelly (24, St. Louis) looks and moves around just like Andrew WK. I don't know which of those is more appealing to you personally, but I love Andrew WK because he once did me a kindness, and I really like Aaron Kelly.

Janay Castine (17, Lawrenceville GA) sings with the most boring pastiche phrasing imaginable, but gets through because it's not her voice's fault she's a buffoon. Daycare Lady and that guy whose dad is the Emperor of New Jersey -- who looks one hundred times better these days -- get through. We don't see their names either. The best, though, is Marlea Stroman, because she gets in, but spends the entire episode in total meltdown about this and that, and then just…leaves. What's great about never having to see her again, though -- and if you'll remember, I really like her -- is how ubiquitous she and her stress level get in this episode. It's unending. The whole thing is like this:

First Regina Brooks saying "I'll probably die." Then Marlea stressing out about something. Then something actually happens. Then this drag queen Shunta Warthen is lost and wandering around L.A. Then bumper to commercial, in which Regina once more threatens to perish, and Marlea continues to be slightly stressed out. Then after commercial, the drag queen is still wandering around town trying to find "Hollywood," and then something might happen, but then Regina might die, and Marlea is stressing out, and then something else might happen.

And I don't really want to talk about Regina Brooks beyond that just yet, because she made me really, really sad tonight, and I'm still kind of bummed out about it, to be honest. Suffice to say she didn't make it, but neither did she die. Instead, we celebrate Rashida Johnson (28, South Ozone Park, some state offscreen). She's adorable and her voice is gone, okay, but so she reaches down into this, like, place that Ashlee I guess doesn't have, or doesn't know about, and rocks out anyway. And then Shunta (23, Burlington) sings "Young Hearts Run Free," being a drag queen, and is in.

The Bad: Tamesha Foote (twin daughters, side ponytail, 23, St. Louis) sings pretty terribly, and then bitches about being started in the wrong key by the pianist, and about a bunch of other stuff, and Rashida clearly thinks she's classless, which is hilarious. The judges realize they screwed up on Michael Luizza (22, New Orleans), who sings like a scary lady again. He's out, which sucks, but only because I like him, because he is terrible tonight. He's pretty cool about the rejection. Most of them are. Jeffery Johnson (27, Irving TX) is still quite Christian, still hot as hell, and still sings better than many people, just not the ones on this particular show. Gone.

Effing Richard Molfetta compares Boot Camp to "Hell Week," okay, and then pins his contestant number to his crotch. I'm so sure, Rich Molfetta. He's so one-note. I mean, it's the right note, but every pony should know at least two tricks. Just in case something goes out, at the least. You know?

Farm Boi Patrick Norman (18, "A Farm," OH) of course does not get through, and is three times worse than before (although he's six times less orange, so he kind of wins even as he loses). Francisco Torres (26, Brooklyn, called "Jose" by Paula for reasons left unexplained) weeps at the beauty of the Pacific Ocean and for a multitude of other reasons, and then sounds terrible. Briana Davis (18, Thornville OH) still looks like a super space clown in silver space boots, but this time she super space sucks, and it's a total bummer, but remember: it's not how much you like them, it's how well the Man thinks they can sing, or else Adam Pratt would trade places with Three Doors Down forever. Anyway, I think 95 people get cut, which plus the Passion of the Marlea equals 97 total hopefuls left.

But tomorrow are the group performances! And another girl might die and Elizabeth Pah! gets Mean Girled and all the teams turn on themselves. THE BEST PART! Some guy who looks and prances just like Farm Boi is on a team with Constantine! I'm psyched. Scott Savol gets pissed, Paula screams incoherently at Simon, and we're left with quick worried faces of Jamie, Jersey Guy, the Daycare Lady, Jaclyn Crum I think, and Mikalah, who is back to looking disgusting. Which somehow reassures me.

Wednesday

Nadia with the hair is grouped with two scary girls and we don't see her again, but she's fine. Lindsey Cardinale teams up with a gross girl from a Girls Gone Wild video, but she's fine. Daycare Jennifer and Beavis Crooner Ross are grouped with some guy who gets cut, but they're fine. Ditto Anthony Federov, although the snippet of practicing we see is kind of horrible. Angel Kay LeTourneau gets through. There's a hotness-and-talent bunching (even though the teams were randomly drawn) as Anwar, Jamar Twin, and Mario continue to rule separately and together.

Scott Savol is with two people we've only seen briefly before, Matthew Meyers (28, Jonesboro, GA) and Danny Steward (25, Sylmar CA), and we learn that he doesn't really play well with others. Matt seems to be a dick at first (bad), but then you realize he's just frustrated and wants to do well (good), but then he carries a teddy bear onstage (bad), and then he gets cut and is pretty cool about it (good). It's confusing, but that's okay because of the three, he's the only one gone. Scott, awesome voice notwithstanding, is kind of confusing again, though, due to his exceeding creepiness tonight.

Jaclyn Crum's mom collapses but it's not MS-related, it's food poisoning, which is I guess nice? Jaclyn keeps it together surprisingly well, and is teamed with Rashida, the girl with a cold who rules AGAIN, and Faith Gatewood (21, Bay City MI), who once worked in a hotel, if you recall. Having spent the whole night in hospital, Jaclyn seems to have doomed the group to failure, but just as Faith is busy throwing her team/herself on the judges' mercy, Paula tells her to shut it because they were really good. And they were! Also, Rashida emailed me today that she has no negative thoughts or feelings about Tamesha Foote, my misread of the situation last night to the contrary. To clarify: Rashida enjoyed meeting Tamesha Foote, and wishes her luck. To clarify further? I do not. I still think she's classless and a blamer.

Aaron, the Andrew WK guy I love, demonstrates that he should not be there, and teammate Timothy Sauer (20, Ballwin MO) gets through because he's pretty (if yelpy). Lamar Twin is now being called…something else, and he's terrible, and he causes not only the ruination of the rest of their routine, but also Paula's best breakdown yet.

Constantine continues with his flagrant asshattery, but gets a little back for his sweetness with the hapless William Blake (22, Plano TX), whom we hear for the first and last time. (Also for his exasperation with Crazy Legs Dezmond, whom I can now confirm works my nerves in a major damn way.)

Janay from last night joins Gina McFadden (20, Overland Park, KS) and Natalie Weiss (19, Manalapan NJ), but the three are utterly undermined, irritated, Showbiz Mommed and Dadded, and generally fucked with by Gina's father, the most obnoxious person to appear on this show since Gene Simmons. Janay and Gina get through.

John Jersey Guy Zisa and Jamie Crooner Koehler -- now to be called JP -- are teamed with Kurtis Parks (22, Salem MA), who looks exactly like Zisa, only incredibly hot. They skive off the night before and half-assedly practice all day, justifying it with the Gettysburg Address somehow, but end up forgetting every single word of their crazy song. They are finally reduced to just singing random words at each other, and it would be funny except how JP pretty much cries the entire time, which is unbearable. The judges keep all of them in the game for some reason; the men think it's because they bravely took a risk on a hard, weird song, but I think there's more to it. JP then loses his emotional shit some more, and Kurtis and John and even Seacrest find him utterly adorable. He is!

Finally, Elizabeth Pha gets her comeuppance at the hands of the lovely Rachel Leslie (28, the Vegas) and the very awesome, very mean, very cool Carrie Zaruba (22, Philadelphia), who would look a whole lot worse here if Elizabeth weren't begging for it every single minute of every single day in perpetuity. However, since she doesn't really have a cross to hang on, you can just sit back guilt-free and enjoy the most subtle, delicious assisted suicide in the history of television. And now I'm in love with Carrie Zaruba, which is, at best, confusing.

I wish the teams round went longer. I always like how much most of them grow to like each other under all this pressure. This was the best episode so far, by a long shot. Ah, well. 75 total to week, when the individual auditions whittle us down further. Carrie, Justin, Anthony, and the 21 other obvious winners pretend to be nervous, and then they split them into the rooms of losers and continuers and they have to sit there biting their nails to the quick for hours and hours and slowly go insane. Which is a part of the season I very much enjoy. Won't you join us?

Tuesday

Creepy doom music as Seacrest reviews some uninteresting statistics. Note to show: not everything is suspenseful. In fact, none of it is, given that we've been watching for a month and still don't know anybody's name, and we're scared to get attached because we might never see them again. So the suspense is less focused on anything in particular and more moment-by-moment, which is less like the narrative drama you wish to create, and more like having dinner with McG: Irritating and jittery and a little gay.

So we've traveled 10,000 miles, to seven different cities, and then we name the cities and show their stupid landmarks, and I'm sure it is in some totally fake order that is neither the order we saw them on the show nor the order that they were actually visited, because for some reason this show would prefer to be fake and jacked-up when it would actually be easier to show things that happened in the order in which they happened. If all this were for any real reason, well, the show would be effective then, wouldn't it? Needless Seacrestiana about how there were some good singers, and some bad singers, and some that were "just plain weird." The accompanying shots are of, I think, Sarah Mather (you know I can't identify any of the good singers yet), Good Old Dirk, and Mary Roach Guilbeaux.

You know what? Imagine growing up with the last name "Roach." Girlfriend has done okay, on review. I'd so be in jail by now, especially if I were also congenitally a weirdo. You go, Mary Roach Guilbeaux. Happy Valentine's Day, to you from me.

So now we're in "Hollywood," to face the "most intense" week of their lives. Twin Richard, perhaps inevitably, likens it to "Hell Week." His entire life is like this. I love it. Hopefully there'll be no elephant walk necessary to enter this esteemed brotherhood. Although honestly, he'd probably have a better chance.

Seacrestiana about the "roller coaster of emotions" and how there will be eventually 12 "boys" and 12 "girls" going into the finals. And by the way, that's an insult. Apparently you didn't know that calling a 28-year-old woman a "girl" is bad? It is. Don't do it. I mean, I know there's a whole Peter Pan lesson to be learned here about how Ryan is something like 75 years old and still trying to look like a Mining Company go-go dancer but, like, your life is calling, Seacrest. Okay?

We see the past winners yet again and some confetti, but I still can't care because none of the hopefuls matters so I can't imagine them singing whatever thinly-veiled coronation song Tamyra will write this year, and then the credits, which are also mostly about the past winners, and you know? It's kind of like those light shows in wrestling where the fireworks go off and the people scream and it's very loud and pyro and the man in his underwear, only all digital. The credits get more confusing the more times you see them.

So everybody gets there on Sunday, and they all scream into the camera, and of course we've never seen any of them because all that mattered was that people are weird and want to be on this show. I mean to say that I've now recapped seven hours of this show and I recognize three people in this whole unending montage: Richard Molfetta, Scott Savol, and effing Constantine. None of whom are going to win anyway. That's just dumb. But anyway, it doesn't really matter, since they don't even really want us to know any of the people until they've thinned out the herd considerably. What did I say? A hundred and ninety-three people in "Hollywood"? Yeah. It's going to be a while before I give a damn. Assuming that ever happens.

This girl Faith, whom we'll actually meet tomorrow night, used to work at the Hilton, and is freaked out because she's now staying in a hotel room. That's pretty cool. I can't imagine working in a hotel and never having stayed in one. I would end up a huge asshole, I think. You know? Resentful. But then, I'm a weak individual, and prone to bitterness. Faith is more prone to saying things like, "I know there's no excuse, but here's my excuse." Which is repugnant, but I kind of like her anyway, and I'm happy she gets to stay in a hotel for the first time. Also making me happy is a giant black man wearing a mint facial mask. It's important to have a regime, I think. Nobody else is going to take care of your pores, people. Nobody's going to exfoliate for you. I can't stress this enough.

Now it's Monday morning, seven o'clock. I…don't recognize more than 20 percent of these people. I know I keep saying that, but it continues to freak me out. What is the point of this show? Like, period. I've completely forgotten. So did they. Not to fucking mention that Faux Farm Boi is still wearing those goddamned overalls. Man, I'm pissy. It's because I have the advantage of knowing that Wednesday's episode is going to rock, and I resent Tuesday for being between us and it. There are two buses, and the first bus is going to audition first. Pretty girls are stressed out about this. They have a list of 12 songs that they can choose from. Nothing from the Ryan Cabrera oeuvre, although there are a couple of Wesley Willis songs on there, which surprised me. Some selections from Ethyl Meatplow, a little St. Etienne, Postal Service, and the first Tanya Donnelly solo album round out what promises to be an eclectic…you know I'm lying, right? It's exactly what you think it is: "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," "Unforgettable," whatever whatever. You could write this list from your own head and you'd be completely right.

What's even more damaging, considering the long term, is how they've had a week to practice these songs. The lyrics of all of which (with the exception of this one Barry Manilow song nobody's ever heard of) you and I and everyone else already know, because they're all clichés that have been completely drilled into our heads by every television commercial, sitcom, radio station, movie, and cover band ever. Dear reader, I want you to sing "Unforgettable" to me, right now, by putting one hand to your heart and the other one on the monitor. See how that works? You didn't think you knew every single word, did you? You're magic!

Anyway, a week. A whole week to learn the words to a song you already know the words to. Seacrest points out that that's how long they'll have when they are in the Top 12 -- still singing songs so old and rusty they're inches from public domain, that they already know the lyrics to. Our inaugural shot of them gathered around the piano while the scary vocal coach lady I like so much watches them deciding what key they'll be singing in.

Meanwhile, the "kids" on the other bus aren't auditioning until tomorrow, so they get to tour Hollywood -- they see the Hollywood sign and Mann's theatre, the usual crap -- and Matthew ("thank you my brothers" guy from last week, whom we'll meet in a bit) talks about how he's always looked forward to this. His whole life. For real.

Blonde farm-girl ringer Carrie Underwood (21, Checotah OK) is having such an eyes-wide wonderful time here in Hollywood, taking pictures of things, you know, touristing it up. She and Seacrest pants around about how she's been taking pictures of…the trees? Fucking A. And he asks if she's taken pictures of any stars and she says no, because it's been cloudy, and then he explains he meant celebrities and they giggle and…PEOPLE OF AMERICA! YOU ARE BEING SOLD SOMETHING!

The first Checotah breeze wafting off of Carrie Underwood is so fricking ridiculous: "Once I left the sunny fields of Underwood Farm to make my fortune, with my beautiful face and voice like an angel, I was confronted with so many things I'd never seen before! Sights and sounds, and smells, and strange futuristic technology! A box with pictures on the front that move around while sounds come out of it! A horseless carriage! I took pictures of the only things I recognized in this brave new world, the humble trees of California, so that I show them to my family back home, to prove that even in the future, they still have trees."

So she sings that song from Romeo + Juliet, "Young Hearts Run Free," and she doesn't exactly remember all the words, but she sounds good, and she's adorable. It's nice, because she's good enough that the kids in the audience watch her sing, instead of studying their own lyrics and all that. I'm confused because this is edited and chopped all to hell for no reason -- this is an audition from the second day, and it's needlessly confusing, but whatever. We see some girls, including Mikalah, but they're not doing anything cool. After Tamesha freaks out, we'll find out that she gets a unanimous yes for Wednesday's group sessions.

Runner-up blonde ringer Jaclyn Crum (16, Gahanna OH) sings "Ain't No Mountain" in that particularly American "sexy" voice that's all the rage. And she's kind of like Jessica Simpson in another way: when she's singing, her brain turns on and she seems to understand the words she's saying, and then when the song is over, she checks out again. And it's just as disturbing here, but a little less so, because Jaclyn is no Jessica Simpson. She's also been hitting the low-lights a little harder than necessary. She looks a little like what's-her-face, from that show. Majandra Delfino. She's like the Haylie to Majandra Delfino's Hilary. And that's sadder and sadder the more you think about it. However, please note that we're now several minutes in, and she still hasn't cried. Weird. Then she gets through, and wigs. Whew.

up, that girl I keep confusing with Lindsay Cardinale. Sarah Mather (22, Wilmington NC) sings "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me," and both the rendition and the girl are pretty, if unmemorable. The kids in the audience clap when she's done, because we have to like her, or else Simon Fuller will take his ball and go home. Man, everybody's good. It's boring. She's a belter, kinda, but once the music cuts out she sounds really clean. She's wearing a boring pink tank top and denim skirt with high brown boots. Boring, see? She looks a bit like Lana Lang -- have I said that before? Maybe about somebody else. Everybody looks the same! -- with really heavy-lidded eyes like a picture of old British royalty. You know how they used to do portraits, back in the Olden Days? Like Rembrandt. With the bugging-out eyes? Like all the pictures of bugout Queen Elizabeth. I always thought that was like an artistic affectation, like how Avril Lavigne makes that same face at the end of every video, like it'll be so very fucking dire if you don't buy her a puppy right this minute. But no, people really looked like that, and they have descendents, and one of them is Sarah Mather. Who gets through to the round.

Tamesha Foote (call me "Mesha," St. Louis MO) starts in immediately talking about her identical twin baby girls, and like it's not bad enough that you're the kind of person whose personality and value as a human being come from having a child, you happen to have had twins, which I guess makes you twice as special, huh? Mention it a few more times, please. She will not disappoint them, she tells us. Since they care about how their mom does on American Idol, and just want her home less, I guess. Serious side ponytail happening and some very eighties gold earrings that look like a sculptural reinterpretation of the Nike symbol, they're very horrible and swoopy-looking as she sings "Ain't No Mountain." I think I know why -- it's easy but has some parts where you can yell, if that is your wont. And of course, it is, in this case.

I really don't like her voice -- it's warbly and pitchy and she's clearly nervous and it's messing her up. I can see liking it more if she weren't so freaked out, but at this stage in the competition…no. Paula actually stops her, and I think this is the only time tonight that this happens. Outside, she blames the pianist for starting in the wrong key, because that fucked her up. Was the key really so very wrong that you couldn't display some adaptability and suck it up? Has anything ever been your fault? You know, reading back over this, it might seem like I am having an irrational response to Mesha Foote. But honestly, I'm not. It's in the body language, the part where she bitches about the pianist and about how Carrie Underwood forgot the lyrics (true) and she didn't (true), and how she sang better than Carrie (false) and how that means…something. That she should have her own holiday or something. Nothing is her fault and it's pissing her off that things keep happening to her that make her life harder. She and Regina Brooks should totally go on a crime spree together, actually. That'll show "them," whoever the hell "they" are that keep screwing things up for Tamesha and Regina. Honestly, wrong key or not, the judges aren't complete idiots, and they know what they're looking for. Get yourself together. Don't disappoint those identical twin baby girls of yours.

This is the dark side of the judging in this round: it's "sudden death," per Seacrest, so they don't explain the why and wherefore of their decisions: it's just in or out. Which is fine, because we're supposedly at a level of performance where the coddling and explaining and torture shouldn't really matter any more. But it's also bad, because it lends a blank slate for people who don't get it to write entire little stories on, about how they're so downtrodden and wonderful and heroes and martyrs and how it's racism or homophobia or some other kind of fault in the majority of everybody else that causes their amazing talent to go unrecognized. And chances are, if that's you write on this particular whiteboard, you've been writing that same story for a while, and it's not going to get better for you, but we still have to see it, and it's ugly and unworthy of you, and the talent you've already proven you possess.

Did I mention I've never seen the majority of these people? So there's a young lady named Deanna, I believe, who's wearing quasi-mod plastic dots for her earrings and necklace, and has thoughtfully matched her makeup to these accessories in pinks and fuschias. Unanimous no. Unanimous no also on her performance. Therese Brown is also a no. We don't see their names or hometowns, so I'm guessing at spellings here, which makes me feel bad, but not, like, that bad.

Anthony Federov (19, Trevose PA) talks like Tony Micelli and has never doubted himself. Seacrest has basically been reduced to just saying the word "tracheotomy" over and over any time Anthony appears. This time, singing, Anthony sounds a bit more like Clay, or Justin -- this breathy thing at the end of the lines he hits, like he's been socked ever so gently in the stomach. He's doing nothing for me, and he's singing a song that is boring that I've never heard, "When You Tell Me That You Love Me." The only thing here of note, for me, is his strange outfit: it's like this heavy sweater he's wearing, but over a shiny, shiny shirt which is unbuttoned to his sternum. Like a stripper with really low blood pressure, or something. One of the posters pointed out an almost-equally icky possibility, that the reason he keeps unbuttoning his shirts all crazy like this has less to do with kiddie porn stuff, and more to do with his tracheotomy scar. Whoa. This paragraph is full of bad things.

Michael Luizza (22, New Orleans) steps downstage -- he's the one with the parents who worked in bars, that sings like a scary lady. He comes out in a shirt that's a size or two too tight to look all that great on him. It's distractingly unflattering. Then he sings like a scary lady again. Dude, he's so out, which bums me out because I like him, but in another way distinctly does not bum me out, because he does not belong here. Then Seacrest mentions Anthony's name again, because it's been over three minutes already, and Anthony is in, and Luizza is out, and then my neighbors have to revive me because I've lost consciousness due to my extreme shock about all this. Pointlessness, thy name is "Hollywood." I'm making this certain hand gesture right now at the TV screen, because it's all so shocking, but it's hard to describe. Just rest assured I'm doing it as hard as I can.

Meanwhile, the other bus group. Some guy does more flips. It would be awesome if it were Ozzie Smith Jr. but I can't remember, it was too long ago. I bet it is, though. That's like secret code so we'll think more highly of him. And now we meet Shunta Warthen, who is a drag queen who got on the wrong bus and was supposed to be auditioning ("and I end up going shopping!"), but she's just so silly and helpless because she's just a dizzy old drag queen. Ugh. Your absolute determination to get nothing at all done will win you exactly zero points out of infinity with me. It starts annoying several other people and they try explaining to her that this is a bad thing? Like it's a problem that she's gallivanting around Hollywood while she should be auditioning in "Hollywood"? And she's so not convinced, and finally they're basically yelling at her to get her ass to the auditions. So she wanders out into the world, and this is dumb for two reasons: A) Like she's going to find her way there! She couldn't even find her bus! And B) We're only provisionally saying that the auditions are, in fact, taking place in Hollywood -- where she is. Depending on where they're really stashing them, she could be a day or more on foot from where she needs to be. Then a time-wasting montage of Shunta being lost, and Shunta wandering through the streets of Los Angeles, and Shunta bothering all manner of people.

Out to commercial: In their own words, Regina Brooks still may die, and Rich Molfetta still may be the American Idol. Both equally likely, I think. Both would upset me the exact same amount at this point.

Rashida Johnson (28, South Ozone Park NY) has lost her voice. Who? Don't know. That awesome scary voice coach lady is like, "I don't really have time for this…just work around it." She's really freaked out, but is clearly being pretty much a total trouper about it. She comes onstage, kind of scared, and talks for a second to the judges about her circumstance, and sounds like shit. It's rough, y'all. And then she sings "Baby Come To Me," and it's awesome and fun, and you can hear her compensating for what's lacking and using what's suddenly there (what they call the Sexy Phlegm) to her advantage, and she's clearly a very smart girl who's thought this out. It's cool that she spoke first, because the comparison makes her voice sound even better, and points out the technical difficulty of what she's doing, and yeah, she does some tricksy shit, but some of it is necessitated by the problems and some of it is to distract from the huge fake-out that she's doing, and it's really great. This is strength under adversity, which is my favorite quality in the world. I've heard huge stars fake it, and she's doing at least as good a job as someone who's been around forever, in my opinion. They send her through, unanimously, and she literally does not believe them, just stares at them like they're being cruel, and then the audience goes buck wild for her, which is nice.

Meanwhile, Shunta is still shunting around.

It's a montage of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," and I like this idea, even though it screws up the chronology: showing a bunch of people who sang the same song and have nothing else to do with each other, and then telling us if they got through. Well, in this case they are all early favorites, highly attractive, and successful in this round, but you know what I mean. It's a cool way to shuffle it all around and keep it interesting instead of just audition, crying, audition, clapping, audition, crying, Shunta's lost and Regina might die. Which is what it would be if they didn't make clever little themed sequences like this. Amanda Avila (21), the Vegas showgirl we just can't seem to get away from, and then Travis Tucker (21, Manassas VA), and they're both even hotter than they were the first time around. Lindsay Cardinale (19, Ponchatoula LA) sings way more interestingly this time around, and it's nice -- she sounds a little hoarse this time, but not in a bad way. They all get through and then the girls hug each other for what I'm sure is the first of what will be many, many times this season.

They have a stupid thing where the contestants have to explain why they think they are the American Idol. Did they have this on other seasons? I don't remember. I hate it. This is dumb. "Harsher penalties for parole violators."

First that pixie Cyndi Lauper girl Emily, who jumps around all the time, T.E.V.I.N. the chipmunk of unsettled gender, this young lady who looks like Sherman Helmsley's daughter on Amen, this guy doing flips. Flashback to Fantasia's talent being bigger than her lips. Which I found contrived the first time around, even though I think Fantasia Barrino is adorable. Anyway, the point of this is basically that they all say the exact same thing, that they want to "inspire" people and be a "role model" and various permutations of these concepts. Then Jeffery Johnson (the hot "clean living" Dallas guy who leads all the prayer circles) says he's going to be "the best role model the world has ever seen." Then Jeffery Johnson (the hot lump of charcoal in the middle of the stage) is struck by lightning.

"Others were more creative," Seacrest tells us, and then proceeds to show us…something almost illustrating that point. Almost. One girl admits, "It'll give me a better chance of meeting Johnny Depp." Another fellow: "I'm worth idolizing." "Bald is beautiful," says that first guy, Sean McNeill (the other youth group church guy). "I am FFT: Fat, Fashionable and of course Talented." God. This awesome prickly girl enunciates: "I enunciate." A cute girl with slicked-over bangs: "I clean up well." This Asian Ed Grimley: "I don't look like I sound." Um, yeah you do. Constantine: "I'm a nice Greek boy." He flips the R in Greek like a veddy, veddy British person. It's dumb. This Andrew WK type (plus about 60 extra pounds): "My job sucks?" It is cute. Big black guy: "I'm Simon's little brother." Simon grins impishly. This is ridiculous. No room on the FOX schedule for any show anybody actually likes, but two to three hours of this crap each week. Thanks, guys.

Oh, crap. Richard Molfetta. Again. Seacrestiana all up out the joint telling us again about that whole damn thing. Forever, but just as a little check-in. And then back to the Beavis-looking crooner, Ross Williams (26, Portland OR). And the brown hat mystery is solved, because has an impossibly square, gigantic head. He looks like a Dick Tracy villain. I wish he'd put that hat back on, even though I hated it. He sings "Crazy Little Thing Called Love," of course. I bet they put that in there just for his sorry ass. Why set this dude up like this? He's just going to fuck up and go home when it stops being about doing impersonations anyway. For now, though, he's safe. Then Sean McNeill (27, Plymouth MA) -- the chubby cute youth pastor who was like the first person voted through. "You Are The Sunshine Of My Life," he sings. Little bluebirds land on his shoulders and twitter along musically. During Sean's song, Richard Molfetta affixes his contestant number as close to his prominent crotch as possible. Then he licks his lips and stares sexily into space. The pleasant niceness of Sean McNeill is impervious even to the power of Richard Molfetta -- Simon seems to really, really like him, and he just smiles at him for awhile silently before giving him his yes.

When Richard walks out, Randy groans and Ryan giggles in voice-over, and then Randy starts laughing. "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart," he asks in song. I'm unsure about the answer, but the song itself is pretty; I like his voice just fine, like usual, but whatever. Do we honestly think he's getting through? Of course not. He continues to lick and stares sexily past the camera at the interviewer as he bites his lip and admits he choked. Bye, Rich. Don't go changing.

ITEM! Regina Brooks will probably die.

ITEM! Shunta still shunting around Hollywood. It's like Memento, this. Finally she makes it back. Nation could not care less.

Another song montage, this time for the lovely and nice song we call "You Are The Sunshine Of My Life." First up is Nadia Turner (27, Miami) with all the hair, and the incredibly tiny, very tall body, who sings beautifully and with great poise and gets a unanimous yes after pulling off the almost unthinkable "I'm waiting?" tease when Simon doesn't immediately spit it out. That's a difficult maneuver even if the judges love you, which they do here, but should not be attempted by any but the most obviously loved and pimped. Then David Brown (19, New Orleans), with whom we have been to church. He looks really nice here, in a black jacket that's made of many textures. It looks soft. He gets a "unanimous yes yes yes." Then Scott Savol (28, Shaker Heights OH), who sounds amazing, of course, and gets through unanimously, of course, and Anwar Robinson (26, Newark NJ), who comes off a bit showy this time, but still rocks, and gives a sexy deep-throated "thank you" when he is invited back. Finally, there's Jeffery Johnson (27, Irving TX), still hot as hell, fresh off insulting Jesus and paying for it, vocally, and he utterly cannot believe it when he doesn't get through. It's kind of sad. David calls home to update about his latest success, and Ryan giggles some more.

Shunta Warthen (23, Burlington) has located both the studio and her frosted and overused eye shadow. She chooses "Young Hearts Run Free," of course, being a drag queen. Onstage, honestly, she's much prettier and less freaky than in she is in a bus, or wandering wild through the streets of Los Angeles -- so I should be nicer. From now on I will. Randy dicks her around awhile, and then she's through.

One or the other of the busloads is now at the beach -- there are exciting dolphins, and an amazing high jump and the requisite bunch of people you've never seen. Francisco Torres starts crying because of how awesome the beach is, and about his family, and how he's the baby of his family and none of them has been to California before, and how it's been a series of amazing events for him lately -- from sleeping on the street for auditions to suddenly being flown across the country to compete, and see the Pacific. For these and other reasons, Francisco cries. Me too, a little. It's powerful.

Now singing "How Will I Know?" are Melissa Figueroa (26, Cleveland OH), who is wearing a yellow go-go outfit and it's nice. It's fine, and she gets through. Did they have the backup singers every year? It's nice. It adds a lot to the overall experience of watching this show. Then there's kick-boxer Vonzell Solomon (20, Fort Meyers FL), who I like -- she was the one with the pink and green bullshit clothing, before -- but I find her slightly screamy and overdramatic tonight. She has just a lovely smile, and gets a "Woo!" from the crowd when she's done and through to the round.

ITEM! Regina Brooks will probably die!

Yes, she's a train wreck and makes bad decisions at a confusingly rapid rate, and yes, there's a lot more to her story and poor choices than they'll even tell us on this stupid show, but I like Regina Brooks (28, Belpre OH). I can't help it. I don't think she should be on this show, I think she should be home relearning the basic life tools she has not yet acquired, but I wish she'd been given more choices when it mattered, is all. She's lost 40 pounds since the auditions -- healthy! -- and has done something cute with her hair that she's nervous about. She wanted to look younger, but her problem is not that she looked old -- she certainly looked a hell of a lot younger than 28 last summer -- the problem is that now she looks kind of old, and totally tired and strung. And that's just awful, but I still like her. When will I stop liking her? It's not good. I'm like a moth to the kind of sucky flame of Regina Brooks. She talks in a groovy way, and I like how when she takes the stage, she explains, "I believe in myself. This is mine." Even though she doesn't, and it's not, it's a good line, and well-presented. And then she sings "Crazy Little Thing Called Love," which is a cool choice, but she is obviously stressed and trying way too hard, and it sucks. Unanimous no. Uh oh. I think she's going to fucking die, you guys. She looks so tired already.

Then she tells us that the problem is that she tried too hard, which is true, but she doesn't mean vocally, she means in, like, life. Trying to "do good things" and "be nice" always "shuts down on" her, and maybe it's time she becomes "a crappy person" and stops expecting anything good from anybody. Which is about the worst possible way to go out, and bums me out also because it's from the heart, and doesn't really make sense. How could acting like an asshole have advanced her in the competition? It couldn't. This is not a revision of her strategy, it's just a rebellious "Fuck You" to the universe: "I'm not getting on the show? Fine then. I'm going to be rude to bank tellers. Suck on that!" And it makes me sad, really sad, because in some ways, that's about the lowest you can go, because you're admitting that being a nice person is not necessarily a built-in feature, for you, and instead is something I guess you were doing so you'd get rewarded. And that's wrong on so many levels, and shows such a lack of respect for yourself and everybody else, and basically it bums me out utterly. But I still wish Regina Brooks the best, even after all that.

…Aaaand 54 other people are going home that we may or may not have seen. What the hell? Abrupt much? So even the point of this episode, we've skipped over. Awesome. Anyway, now more of the same: Day Two of auditions, and we will see decided the fates of: Mario Vasquez, Mikalah, Constantine, and Rainbow Brightman. The people that didn't go home last night are now touring Hollywood. That sucks so bad for the losers from Day One. Their itineraries for leaving were described as "jammed" under their hotel room doors the night they lost, in this one article.

Seacrestiana fills us in on some groovy dramatic parallels like: Farm Boi and Mario Vasquez (27, NYC) share the same confidence -- and the same sexual orientation. Patrick Norman (18, "A farm," OH) sings "When You Tell Me You Love Me," or whatever, that song I've never heard. He's terrible, and the shirt does nothing for his eyes, which are his best feature, and his skin is still bad but he's not orange anymore, and he's not wearing overalls during the actual audition, but he rubs his scary tummy in a very creepy way that is vastly worse than anything else he could have done. It's wildly unsettling, and he's going home, but he takes it really well. He's a nice boy. Then Mario tears it right up on the same song and gets the expected unanimous yes. My, he's diminutive.

Francisco Torres (26, Brooklyn), who weeps at the beach and has a crazy gap in his teeth that is totally cool-looking, sings "Baby Come To Me," which is the wrong, wrong song for him, and which he sings poorly. I don't know how to explain it, but, like, his voice somehow clashes with the backup singers. It's dissonant and painful. The crappy sound of it all might actually be disguising further vocal flaws. He's very friendly and has an open expression. I like him, a lot. When Paula addresses him as "Jose" and tells him, "Honey it's a no," he just laughs about it and says that thing about how he's just grateful for the experience. For once, I believe this.

Marlea Stroman (21, Syracuse NY) sings some song perfectly and beautifully which is about needing someone to bless her whenever she sneezes, and also there are birds involved. I don't even care to Google that song because it's clearly not my thing. My notes say, "Boring song, boring rendition. She's so going home." And then under that it says, "Both wrong and right, Kreskin." So she gets a unanimous yes. And yet, I have this feeling. She's very well-spoken and likeable and very happy about it, even though she's clearly freaky stressed. More stressed than almost anyone I've ever seen.

Briana Davis (18, Thornville OH) still looks like a space clown. She makes her own clothes, I think. All of the fabrics she uses are one-color or striped and blocky. I think that's AWESOME. I love her even more. Keep on sewing, tiny dancer. She's wearing silver space boots with the ensemble tonight. She sings, and I was afraid of this -- it's terrible. She's nervous and it makes her sound like she's standing on a chair with a mouse taunting her. Remember, it's not about whether we like her, it's about if she can sing, and in this case, she can't. Too nervous. I like her, though, and she's cool. She'll be all right.

Back to Marlea, who complains that the girls are mean to her, and she can't deal with it. She's really grasping at straws, here. I refuse to believe that a woman this beautiful, intelligent, and talented hasn't been treated to bitchery at least a few times in her delicate life. People being people, and all.

Well, most of the time. Look who it is! Mikalah Gordon (16, Vegas)! And she's dressed like a person instead of what happens to nice girls who take up smoking, which is nice, and she does have a pretty face under there, but she's hitting the Mayim Bialik/C.C. Bloom thing so fucking hard -- the American Idol is not Bette Midler. Bette Midler isn't even the Bette Midler. And neither are you. At least I can't smell her through my TV this time.

So she does this whole commedia dell'arte bullshit routine that I won't dignify before the song, and the judges just stare, and then she sings. And yeah, it's much more awesome, but nothing we haven't seen before, both from her and from others, and so the judges totally start up this conversation about her while she's singing, and it's kind of ambivalently admiring, because it's about how "confident" she is, but it's wishful thinking to believe that that's always a good thing. So she starts getting annoyed, and -- I liked this -- she starts interjecting Simon's name into the song to get his attention, at one point singing, "No, I'm really talking to you, Simon," and it's pretty awesome. I don't so much care for how she consistently gives him the alpha position, because it speaks volumes about her take on gender relations, but also, in this case she's right about it.

Anyway, I'm going to feel horrible about going on and on about what a whore she is, if I end up liking her. Which is admittedly a long shot. The cool/not cool thing about Mikalah, though, is that she'd just laugh and smack me on the back about it, and then drink me under the table, if I started feeling bad about calling her a whore. Maybe she'd steal my wallet, too. She doesn't mind being called a whore, is what I'm saying. Her confidence is this whole thing unto itself, and she's still singing, and she does that thing very well with her eyes that Miss Tyra can do.

She steps up with mic shaking, after she's done, to inform Simon that if he sends her home, he's going to be accompanying her to her prom, since she already missed homecoming for American Idol. So he says, "No, I'm not going to your prom," and for a second, you can see the child she might have been, as her eyes cloud over and she very quietly says, "Oh," because for a second she thinks he's just told her to fuck off, for real. And it hurts her, and she can't process it for a second, and for that second she looks like a 16-year-old girl instead of a Warrant video. And then they tell her she's through, and it's nice, and I'm almost kind of happy for her. Mostly, I would like to sit her down for a good talking to.

: Daycare worker lady, Jamie Paul Koehler, pixie Cyndi Lauper girl Emily Neves, and the Ombudsman of New Jersey, John Zisa: who stays and who goes? All of them but Cyndi Lauper go, and she stays. That's my prediction. Which it turns out is 100-percent incorrect. Go me. Also, Marlea is going to freak the hell out and the producers are going to have to deal with her. Never good.

Marlea has decided to go home. So then why are we wasting time on this? I liked her voice, I remember liking it a lot in her first audition, and she's very cool, but this is, like, not ending. At all. Get there, Ryan. By boat or by train, don't care how. Windsurf to the point, if you have to. Okay, so she's the first person ever to voluntarily leave. Finally! God, Seacrest.

Janay Castine (17, Lawrenceville GA) sings "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" in a cute yellow dress; her phrasing is boring and irritating but she's through. Daycare Jennifer Todd gets through. Everybody I said wasn't getting through, is. The girl who cleans up nice is not going and asks, "Why?" in this little-girl voice. Taye Diggs thinks the judges are assholes. Some blonde is a no. Emily Neves is a surprising no. There are now 97 total hopefuls left going into Wednesday, which is the group performances night, which is like Halloween for this show -- totally the coolest night of the year!

Wednesday, finally:

Jamie Paul "JP" Koehler interviews as to how they are all going to get shuffled together for the competition group sings. Nadia is on a team with two scary girls who fight over who'll be doing the choreography for their group -- the first one is immediately all "I might be the choreographer…" and Nadia kind of rolls her eyes and then the scarier girl gets all, "If I let her!" Oh, this'll be ugly. Well, if we ever check back in with this group. Some other girls talk about how they're friends and have bonded during the rounds, but are not close with the other girl in their group, and we don't see them again either.

That awful "thank you my brothers" guy, Matthew Meyers (28, Jonesboro, GA) is on a team with a nice guy named Danny Steward (25, Sylmar CA), and Scott Savol, about whom he says, "I can't use the words I'd probably like to use." So I think I hate him. This whole episode is kind of confusing because they don't tell us anybody's name until the performances, but I would like to be more helpful than that, so I'm telling you now. Anyway, it is my hypothesis that I will grow to hate this Matthew Meyers more than anything in the world, and continue to love Scott Savol more and more, seeing past his brutish halfwit exterior to the tender genius within. We shall see if that is the case.

So the teams get to pick one of five songs to perform, and then they pick for performance order. We bop around from team to team: Angel Kay LeTourneau and some small girls. People I don't know. Lots of them. On teams with each other. Elizabeth Pha with the girl who will one day destroy her. Josh Zisa and JP Koehler with this guy who looks like Zisa, only vastly hotter. David Brown with some people we can't see because they don't matter because they're not David Brown.

Fucking Jaclyn Crum in a Renaissance boob dress is about to have a problem, surprisingly. She's being called away due to…oh crap. I'm a jerk. Her mom totally has multiple sclerosis and relies on Jaclyn a great deal, and her mom has collapsed and can't breathe and is going to the hospital, and Mom's very sorry about all of this, and…she looks very pretty. And I will say that Jaclyn Crum holds up incredibly well when it matters, as she tells us straight up about the MS and how this not breathing and falling down is a first for her mom's MS, and how she's looking forward to finding out what the hell is going on. Now the whole thing with her mom being so blown away by her daughter's awesomeness makes a lot more sense, and I love how we've got the backstory but it's been sneaked up on us by the mom having a medical emergency, rather than by Seacrest bringing it up every chance he gets.

Matthew Meyers, Danny Stewart, and Scott Savol are going to be singing "Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch." Scott is…creepy and not interested in all of this. Matt explicates that he hates him so completely. And yeah, Scott's kind of acting pretty much like a total jackass here. Matt's upset about how Scott is super-weird, and Sling Blade-y, and silent, and how he is from the "Planet of the Ape." Matt and Danny are totally into this performance and getting it together, and practicing and so on. Matthew is ready to, quote, "pimp-slap" Scott, because he's being so rude and uninterested. Me too, kind of. What a surprising turn of events.

Then a whole bunch of lesbians get off the bus. I don't know. And Scott just kind of…wanders away, and disappears, and Matt and Danny are horrified about this. Scott explains to us about his belief that Matt and Danny suck terribly and will cause him to be eliminated immediately, instead of in April. Which is unbelievably shitty, even if he does have the best voice I've heard this year. And he's acting super-creepy again. Too bad you're an asshole sometimes, Scott. It's not like you were going to win anyway, but this takes out some of the sting.

Other teams, you know, actually practice instead of getting up to a bunch of bullshit. We are proud of them. A tiny Latino guy and an enormous black man do a funny dance. Aaron Kelly practices with his team and they have good harmonies and not a chance in hell. Angel is a train wreck and dances around with a slice of pizza, imagining illegal sex with the teenagers that surround her. Natalie, Gina, and Janay rehearse in their pajamas. Everybody in this whole stupid show looks the same. I refuse to get attached. The finale of The Amazing Race was last night? And even in the very last episode, I still kept asking, "Now, who's that guy?" whenever Kris and Jon were onscreen. I'm bad with faces sometimes. You need to make allowances for people like me, TV.

Janay Castine, Gina McFadden (20, Overland Park KS), and Natalie Weiss (19, Manalapan NJ) practicing in their PJs some more. A mom is helpfully writing the lyrics down for them. Janay is irritated that Natalie just wants to dance around: "One girl, or…the other girl in there," she tells us privately, keeps jumping from thing to thing and wanting to choreograph and being all ADD. So now I don't feel too bad, since Janay can't even keep them straight and she's, like, right there in the same room with them. They do their little dances and Janay sings -- greatly, actually -- in the front.

Seacrest looks dead again. Nothing gold can stay. Matt and Danny have lost Scott, and Danny feels stood up, and Matt is pissed as hell and…I like him now. I'm fickle like that, but without seeing what Scott was up to, I thought Matthew's responses to his behavior were a bit outré. They are not. He is being pretty nice about it, considering how it's turning out that Scott's being a completely ridiculous assclown.

Flashback to Anwar teaching children, and then using his music teaching skills to get his team's singing rhythm down, shaking something and making them speak in their rhythm before trying to sing together. It's awesome to watch him do this. He's so cool.

Damn, Elizabeth Pha. Okay, her two teammates are doing really well dancing and singing "baby baby" behind her, while she forgets all the words. Flashback to yesterday, when she forgot all the words to her chosen audition song. Paula flinched like she'd been stabbed with a knitting needle. Why the hell is this awful girl here? I mean, seriously. She starts complaining to her teammates about how it's "Such a pressure, I mean, hello!" God, she's awful. They look at her like they're about to feed her to the yak. And then they just keep dancing and singing like they have an actual lead singer while she tucks her hair behind her ears and stares at her feet and diddles around in front of them just like anyone would, provided that person had opted out of living their own life, and were not 24 years old, which Elizabeth is. But that's only like nine in Disgusting Years.

Now Janay's mom (April) and Gina's dad (Lonnie) are there, and he's being a total stage mom lecturing them about things that are wastes of time as Janay and her mom stare at him because he is, in fact, wasting so much time. Everyone is bored.

Seacrestiana that begins, "Remember Constantine, the guy who left his 'hard rock' band in Brooklyn to audition for BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP." Or at least, that's what I heard, because yes, Ryan, I do. Thanks for the refresher. Cut to Constantine -- a theatre performer, okay, who was in Rent, and who played fucking HEDWIG, for Christ's sake -- being "all mixed up" by the choreography of his boyband-esque teammates.

"I'm not really a dancer," he protests, "this isn't really my thing." Except for when I take the starring role in musicals, of course. The falsity of all this kind of makes my tummy hurt, because again -- there's no point. Some exec decided that they needed this certain "type" and then instead of finding someone to fit that type, they took a guy with an established career and then just heaped fucking deception and lies on him until whatever was once real about him is stubbed out and hideous.

So compared to his teammates, he says, he's in the worse position, and they agree. The teammates in question are Dezmond of the Crazy Feet and new kid William Blake (22, Plano TX), and Constantine makes doubly sure we know the score by lending his voice a certain lisping sibilant gay edge. Good eye, Constantine. You noticed something visible from space. Dick.

So he's making fun of how Dezmond was, you know, on task and trying to practice: "Okay, y'all, five six seven eight!" And then he bitches about Dezmond correcting him in front of people in the hotel hallway -- why? They might think he's a bad dancer! Which he just admitted! It's some kind of weird hate crime being perpetrated here and I don't get it, because Constantine's very sweet and kind with William, when it comes down to it, and the actual issue is how he wanted to be the choreographer, and get credit for that, and Dezmond kept being all overbearing about it. So gay voice or not, what was really going on here wasn't a gay vs. straight thing so much as a Big Gay-Off, which changes a lot. Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing the gay voice, and was just doing the Dezmond voice. Because they are similar, these two voices. So William practices dancing with Constantine, and laughs silently while all of this is going on. I wish there were lots and lots more William Blake. I will say that right now. But there's not. I will tell you that, too.

"And then I went to bed! I told them, like, 'Yo, this is going to be a train wreck. This is a train wreck, just so you know.'" And so they were like -- in this totally gay voice, coincidentally -- "Whatever, it's not going to be a train wreck! Just sleep on it!" So now he's just hoping he's the last man standing. And I hate this fucking show so much, because I bet he's right and he will be. But I also kind of love it, because I will bet you one hundred dollars they sent his arrogant ass to bed and continued practicing. And I love them for that.

Then some good teams practicing, sometimes the front side of them, sometimes just the asses of them. And then, back to Elizabeth Pha's two teammates, who are confessing out in the hallway that they "haven't a chance in hell" with her on the team. "It's like singing with an elephant," says the girl in glasses. Which is funny, because elephants never forget, and Elizabeth cannot remember. The other one giggles. Up front, I will say that I can't exactly comment on any of this without bias. I mean, I hate Elizabeth Pha, and I especially hate that she just can't seem to remember the words to the song. I hate that. You have one task before you! Could you like possibly prevail and conquer it? No? Just can't put forth the effort, huh? Too much pressure? Go back to the Bunny Ranch. God, she pisses me off. There is literally nothing else she needs to do right now. Just one thing. Remember the words of a song which has something like 17 words total. Your whole life comes down to a single task: What are you going to do?

The cameras follow the girls back into the room, and the formerly passive-aggressive and lazy Elizabeth suddenly wants to have some kind of dramatic confrontation, wherein the girls on her team will be exposed for the sabotaging, malicious bitches they are. She keeps looking at the camera so that we can agree with her how deeply unfair all of this is. So, pushed to actually discussing it, Glasses says, "If you can't learn a pop song in two hours, what are you doing here?" That's my question exactly. Well, the last five words serve just as well independently of any reasoning behind it. And so Elizabeth darts some Can you believe this bitch, Daddy? at the camera, and asks, "What do you mean?" and fucking giggles and says, "Hello, I have talent? I can sing?" She stares a while at the cameraman and Glasses says basically, sure, whatever, but points out that there's a bit more to it than that, or else there would be a lot more people left over after the first two days of cuts. Elizabeth keeps grinning stupidly: "What are you trying to say?"

Meanwhile, Dad Lonnie's still fucking talking. Natalie politely and cannily asks "the parents" to leave for awhile -- meaning Lonnie, of course -- and April laughs and follows him out. They go back to practicing, and actually sound pretty good.

In some hallway somewhere, Scott wanders up to his team. Danny mentions that he's creepy and antisocial, and Scott doesn't get it and thinks it's this whole other conversation that is not happening about how they have to practice and get it together and be awesome and rock out suddenly, and Matthew proves again that he's pretty okay by just laughing about it, and they tell the cameras to get out, and the cameras are happy to do so, because Matthew's gigantic and very San-Francisco-leather-looking, and he's wearing not so much in the clothing way, and you can see all of his tattoos, even the ones on places.

There's a "Goodnight, we're going to bed" montage. This totally nasty girl in Lindsay's group stares at the cameraman and like fucking touches herself and pouts at the camera the entire time. It's so gross. It's very Idols Gone Wild. All the teams are going to sleep now -- some of them, adorably, sing songs about how tired they are.

Jaclyn is still at the hospital, relieved to tell us that her mom has food poisoning and not an MS attack. She sings in the car back to the hotel, in the best approximation of practice she can muster. Back at the hotel, one of her group members has already gone to bed. That sucks. I spend like hours trying to figure out how they could've gotten her team to the hospital to practice with her without it seeming weird or tacky or heartless, and I can't, but I am positive there was a way.

Seacrest wanders through the halls talking about how it used to be full of practicing and talking but is now silent… "Except for in here!" and he points to some door that may or may not just be the room that Elizabeth's team may or may not be fighting or practicing in. Might not be in the same hotel. Might not be on the same planet. Doesn't really matter, does it? It's as though the fight has been going on this entire time when we were checking in with all the other teams, and who am I to say it hasn't been? I believe it. She is in fact that awful. Glasses tries again to explain to Elizabeth that she's not interested in allowing Elizabeth to jeopardize her own chances, and that she's sure that the other girl in the group (at whom she kind of flaps her hands, which is funny because still nobody knows anybody else's name) feels the same way. The other girl good-cops about how it's 2 AM, and they're all like really tired. Like some rest is going to give Elizabeth Pha some self-respect or any initiative. Glasses is like, "No actually, I could go all night right now." And she could, too. "I'm not letting anybody do this to me." I think I love Glasses. This is so not how I saw this going. With Matt, too. Those clever editors. I totally like the people I thought I would hate, and dislike the people I…already kind of disliked.

Elizabeth retreats to the lamest fucking fallback ever: "Do whatever you guys want to do, I don't really give a damn." Which makes no sense, because they're not talking about the choreography or anything, they're talking about her basic inability to do anything correctly or show any kind of damned effort. So Glasses is like, "Okay, there's the door." Which is the only possible response you can give to that, because the choice is: add something to the group, or say "fuck it" and abandon the group. But Elizabeth has made up a third option, which is: Act like a big baby idiot and threaten to leave and take your talent and your beauty with you, causing everyone in the world to roll over and beg you to stay, their bluff totally called, due to the total rock stardom of you.

"I'm just going to do it myself, then." God, I hope she does. That sounds gorgeous to me. Elizabeth Pha, alone on a stage, singing a song she doesn't know, trying to do a dance that doesn't involve a pole, or a lap.

So whatever, it's 5:31, points out Glasses, so they'll meet at 6:30 in front of the breakfast room. How hardcore. Glasses hugs the other girl goodbye. I'll just tell you right now that Glasses Girl is Carrie Zaruba (22, Philadelphia), and Other Girl is Rachel Leslie (28, the Vegas), because this might get confusing. So anyway, Carrie tells Rachel the plan, and Elizabeth is standing right there when she tells Rachel the plan, and it's still up in the air whether Elizabeth is still on the team at this point, but I think it's really up to her. She mouths something in the elevator as the other girls hug goodnight, but I don't know what. Maybe it's in Grossolalia. Rachel finally lets a little meow mix show when she gleefully asks the severely excluded Elizabeth whether she's going to get off, since it's her floor. She waves bitchily as she steps off and Rachel's kind of mystified by what an obstacle Elizabeth's decided to be for all of them. I hope Elizabeth sleeps until noon and then, I don't know, somehow ends up in jail or hit by a Vespa.

Lonnie is still being fucking irritating. He's unstoppable. I wonder if it's still 5:30 AM. Now he's dancing around and singing in falsetto and lying right to the camera: "They're doing it. They're doing their own choreo…I'm just kind of like standing back and asking, well, can I suggest something here? And if they say it's okay, I want to help. But no, no, I'm not a choreographer for them or anything, I'm just Gina's dad, and I just want to help." I love how he's thinking in terms of legality, like he's Sparky Polastri or something, when the truth is he's just showing his entire ass here. It adds a whole secondary self-important level to his already self-important ass-showing.

Remember how Dezmond Meeks has to dance all the time? Still dancing. Remember how Constantine has to suck all the time? Still sucking. Remember how William Blake is delightful and ephemeral? No?

Now it's tomorrow, and what do you know: Elizabeth slept in. Rachel looks just beautiful outside her room, but Carrie's turned away from the camera. I'm sure she looks stunning -- I think she's simply gorgeous. I want to see Glasses without the glasses! They look very pretty and glamorous, but not too trashy, as a team. That'll change, once the door opens.

It's now an hour later, and they've come back to get her. Elizabeth opens the door, and she's getting dressed. Carrie is like, were you going to come down? And Elizabeth's all, "Oh yes! That's right!" And then contradicts her own fake ass: "You guys didn't tell me that." Rachel and Carrie both bust out at this point, because she's so horrible and stupid, and clearly waited around in her room for them to come and get her. Like all of a sudden they were going to realize she was indispensable and lovely and they were just being bitches and ought to apologize immediately. Insanity is often defined as doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Nobody is ever going to fucking care about you the way you want them to, Elizabeth! Not until you give yourself the option of not sucking.

Since Rachel and Carrie are almost entirely over the whole junior high thing that is happening, there's not much they can do about it. Now, don't get me wrong: Rachel and Carrie are Mean Girls, and are obviously well-versed in this behavior, but you know what? Elizabeth is basically begging them to do this, as a personal favor to her, so they're all just playing out their roles. It's clear that Carrie's first priority here is getting the job done, and giving Elizabeth exactly what she's asking for is secondary, but if Elizabeth were not actively sabotaging Carrie's chances (along with her own), I sincerely doubt that this would be coming out, period. She and Rachel are doing just fine, and were working together just fine, I'm sure, before Elizabeth provided them with the superglue of her own bullshit.

Anyway, Elizabeth then clarifies that when they did tell her, they were talking to each other, not her, and thus did not tell her when and where to meet: "Well, you guys weren't even talking to me, so I didn't hear that." Halfwit. Fool. I hate this girl so much. I myself want to track her down and create a situation where she will feel particularly left out. Again disregarding the blatant bullshit by which Elizabeth lives her life, Rachel's like, "Okay but regardless, 7:30 is roll call?" And they're all late? Elizabeth vagues that she'll be down soon. They walk off laughing about how terrible she is. Yeah, getting Mean Girled is terrible, but I am positive they gave her a while before realizing she has no worth in this competition. I'm ashamed, but I should probably admit in the interests of full recapper disclosure that I would have started indulging the torture impulse a LOT sooner than they did.

Daycare Jennifer Todd and Beavis Ross are on a team with some guy I don't recognize who smells to me like Drakkar Noir. Anthony Federov sounds horrible singing with his team. Anwar's team dances and sings in the men's room. Heh. I bet the acoustics are great -- and just as I'm saying this, a toilet flushes. JP and Zisa's team apparently went to bed without practicing at all, and now the hotter John Zisa -- Kurtis is his name -- sings terribly and forgets the words and is suddenly less hot than Zisa, or JP, who laughs at John and Kurtis as they finish each other sentences about how they have a higher number in the performance order and thus will have more time to practice. JP is so awesome.

Jaclyn practices horribly with her team. She's really gone through the wringer in the last 24 hours, and she's still holding up like a trooper. What was the issue when there was no stress? How come she can't handle normal life but deals with everything going nuts at once? I like that. I guess I'd like it more if she could keep it together, like, period.

Meanwhile, Carrie and Rachel chat and look calm and professional in the audience while behind them Elizabeth bops around looking like a child prostitute. Man, I wish this girl's life had gone differently. She'd be so cute if she weren't so determined to pull the whole tablecloth of pain onto her lap all the time. The three of them are being interviewed in the back of the auditionorium and Rachel is talking good generic interview nonsense about how you learn from others how to fix or cover your flaws, and then lobs it to Carrie, who spins this into a cute story about how you totally do have to learn from others, how she's left-handed (where I come from we call that "better than other people," and also may help to explain how hopelessly I have fallen for her) and how Rachel taught her to "start from her right," and then does a cute little dance move where she starts from her right, and they're getting along and laughing, but the point is that they're playing up for the camera, and doing a damn fine job, and none of this has anything to do with making Elizabeth feel excluded, because honestly I can't see devoting much time to her at all, mentally, at this point.

Oh, but Elizabeth sure can! She interrupts in this incredibly rude and abrupt fashion, yelling, "This interview is over for me," with a cute little smile, and then she says goodnight to the camera even though it's not even noon yet, and stalks off. Rachel and Carrie giggle madly, because Elizabeth is just so ridiculous and horrifying. Carrie has the grace to keep her grin to a minimum until Elizabeth has pushed past her. Rachel just shrugs her shoulders and smiles sweetly, because the proof is in the pudding. Yeah, they're being bitches. But so am I, and for the same reason, so am I going to complain? Hell, no. I'd have punched her in her face the second she started that shit. It's not like they're being backhanded or secretive about it, either. They just know how to behave appropriately, and are trying to get her in line -- the exact same way they themselves were socialized. But she'd rather be left out and disliked intensely by many, many people in her life. And there's a power in that, I guess, but I don't really get it, and neither does Carrie, and that's fine.

Seacrest is wearing cool pinstriped pants but still looks like he's seen a ghost. First up: Constantine, Dezmond, and William. We've not really seen William before. He looks kind of like Farm Boi, only not offensive and super-cute and very gay and very much not going forward in this competition. So the song starts and Constantine does every single step wrong in the dancing because of how not gay he is and his total lack of experience in the theatre. But he's singing okay. He has a stupid fat face and stupid "rocker" hair and a double chin and a scary look in his eye and I hate the way he says the word "bunch." Anything about him, I hate it. Whatever it is.

Then William takes center stage, and voice is fine but whatever -- we haven't ever seen him before so who knows? Really this is just more of that Angelina Jolie voodoo, like now Constantine will look more masculine and less like a total pussy to the two gayest boys in the audition. Then comes Dezmond, who is definitely the best front man of the three, even though I want to box his ears whenever he's onscreen. After, Randy points out how "interesting" the group is. Dezmond starts to take credit for the choreography just as Constantine tries to take it away from him, and out-voices Dezmond that it was a group effort, which is what Dezmond was also trying to say.

William cracks up and Constantine puts his arm around him in a very un-self-conscious way. I'm glad they bonded, it seemed like something completely other was going on there. Or else he's just trying to isolate Dezmond visually, on stage, which is something I would totally pull. Then Simon explains that the choreography was hideous, which does the same thing, only even better. Silence. Randy calls them "some sort of a group," and the results: Constantine and Dezmond, unshockingly, get through. And Dezmond does a stupid jubilant flip. God. William, all alone onstage, is out. Too bad, he humanized Constantine a bit, but yeah. He's just not good enough, and I'm okay with that.

Check-in with the Zisa, Kurtis, JP trio. They're still laughing, because they still don't know the words. Sigh.

Rachel, Elizabeth, and Carrie. Arr. Rachel takes center first -- she's very pretty, I don't know if I mentioned that. And Carrie enchants me utterly, of course. I'm glad to learn she can sing -- she's not the absolute best of the team, but that's not really the point, I mean, it's not like one of them will automatically get cut or anything, although that would be much more awesome -- and glad too because it's so different from what I expected. Her voice is much more raw and interesting and mature than I would have thought. She dances around in a kind of bowlegged way that I like, like the singing is coming from some secret place deep down in her body. Paula is spaced but I get worried that she doesn't like Carrie.

Elizabeth steps up now in her midriff-revealing ensemble, and Rachel looks over at Carrie -- we'll say it's in order to synchronize their backup singing, but she's grinning a bit evilly. Carrie looks over at her and they keep dancing and singing, smiling at each other and keeping the beat. Elizabeth first sings over them dissonantly, and then forgets all the words to the song and moans and melismas and sucks as they continue to sing backup (just like happened last night), which is hilarious because it points out each time that instead of repeating the words she's singing, they're just singing random "baby baby" and "ooh" while she moans and wiggles. It's…fairly awesome. She is so pointless. I mean, the moaning is pretty, but, like, are you kidding me with this? The girls just keep singing backup, doing their job, and it's awesome because there's not really much they could do for her here: the accompaniment is such that they can't pull a Destiny's Child and harmonize over her like the girls do for poor horrible Michelle.

Then she just starts making up words and hitting made-up glory notes. It would be pretty if they had elected to sing a song without words, but, you know, they didn't. Randy tells them that none of them are "owning it," or all that passionate. Paula mentions that Elizabeth has yet to remember the words to any song, ever. It's because last night she didn't get enough sleep, she explains, as though the two things are related. "What about the first day, when you also forgot the lyrics?" I…didn't get enough sleep that day either. So stupid! I wish her dog would go ahead and eat her, but he's probably still chock full of her homework. Simon asks how it's possible that she can't remember seven words, which repeat. He then excoriates her and gets a bit frothy and turns around to yell at the other contestants for good measure, calling them assholes for things they have yet to do and for being smug. Elizabeth promises everybody that she's "really good" and Paula just shakes her head, because that has yet to become apparent. Rachel's a yes, and they give Carrie "one more chance," and Elizabeth is a no. She stares and cries and is gone off my TV forever, after applying a fucked-up amount of crackhead eyeliner and staring hungrily into the camera like a street person: "I'm a very beautiful person and I just think that it has been very unfair." She has never looked less beautiful. She looks like a crack addict. God. Goodbye. Have fun at the clinic.

Zisa and Jamie and Kurtis (getting Krotchy) practice yet more, laughing and laughing. Yikes. Say hello to this year's group of grasshoppers that fiddle away and giggle and screw around while the ants are busy gathering food. We're learning a lesson here, people.

Jamar, Anwar, and Mario. Why bother? They're all getting through. And then Justin's mom will piss herself some more. They stick a hat on Mario in all the colors of Africa, which is funny. Just in case we don't get how insanely hot Mario's supposed to be, we cut to a group of guys and girls freaking out over the unbearable (if itsy-bitsy) hotness of Mario. Paula makes a strange, loving face. Jamar takes over and dances all awesome. Simon makes a strange, loving face. Anwar gets up front and sings it all over the place. Randy voices over a strange, loving giggle. Jamar leaps out and screams some more. Paula tells them as a group that they are wonderful and pass with flying colors. That's awesome. I bet it was very nice for them to just all get through at once like that.

More of the geek trio dancing and pantsing around. Kurtis explains that the Gettysburg address was written on the way to Gettysburg by Abraham Lincoln, implying that by the time they're up, they'll have created something equally impressive. You're no Lincoln, pretty-boy. JP cracks up again. All he does is laugh, it's so awesome. I'll miss him most, I think, when the three of them are sent home within the ten seconds.

Even Seacrest is amazed that no parents accompany Janay's team onstage. Janay Castine is first and she's much better than yesterday, it's a lot more creative. The backup singing is not very nice-sounding, for some reason, but Janay's a good performer at heart, and it's great to watch. The judges are pleased. Gina McFadden (20, Overland Park KS) comes up and is good, mixing a bit better with the backup singing of her teammates. Simon's feeling it. Natalie Weiss (19, Manalapan NJ) looks much scarier than she did last night, and she sings okay but not as well as before. Her outfit is deplorable. We don't see the judges but she gets the spotlight position, out of the group. Paula's down, but I can't tell about Simon. Randy finally has to prompt him: "Cowell." Simon doesn't care because there's no "sparkle." Janay is through. Gina gets a split decision in her favor -- obviously Simon was the dissenting, but she screams her thanks specifically to him anyway. Natalie is a no, and goes to cry on the phone. Aww.

Montage of the judges telling a bunch of Whatever People just how horrible they are, and none of them have we seen before, except for the Drakkar Noir guy on the team with Beavis and Daycare. But at least their families got to see them for five seconds on TV. That's nice, I guess.

There's a commercial for The O.C. and I burst into tears.

Seacrest uses his library voice to tell us that the judges are looking for someone willing to stand out. Which is…sort of true. Scott Savol seems angry and violent once again as he gets really intense up in the camera about how he's going to "blaze this thing." It's scary but I guess it's okay. Matthew kisses Danny and Scott and also a teddy bear. Which he takes onstage. I was ready to give you my heart, Matthew Meyers (28, Jonesboro GA), but then you brought a teddy bear onstage. Dumb. In the end, I like his voice and his giant belt buckle and all of it, and I think he's pretty awesome. He flubs the words something awful. Danny Steward (25, Sylmar CA) comes up and we've not seen him before, and he's really good, and his niceness really shines through him. He's great.

Scott Savol comes up, and the backup is great, and he's of course really good, but a little breathless. He doesn't particularly "blaze it." Then all three of them do an a cappella harmony that goes on and on and it's awesome and goes nowhere near the usual place, so it's fun to listen to as it goes on and on. Randy asks Matthew if he should address him or the teddy bear, but is nice to him. Randy is nice to Matt, nicer to Danny, and nicest to Scott. The audience goes nuts for Scott. I agree with the judges that it was the best ending so far. Simon orders Matt to drop the teddy bear and stop being weird, so he tosses it, and then gets sent home. Rude! Danny and Scott are safe. The crowd is about equally as happy for both of them. Matthew clutches his teddy bear and is close to tears as Danny says that he ended up really liking Scott, and how awesome Matt was. Bummer. Good thing he's got a teddy bear, like, right there.

Those three clowns, still rehearsing. Dude, they are so going home.

: Aaron WK, Delma Lamar, and a new guy: Timothy Sauer (20, Ballwin MO). First thing, they dance idiotically. Then Aaron Kelly swings his hair all around and sings in a dumb voice and pantses around and it's totally tragic. Up is Timothy, who's a dead ringer for Hunter from America's Top Bottom and has a screechy register up top like in Jesus Christ Superstar. It's yelpy and sounds like he's been wounded. It comes off not so much as a sign of passion as it does a tic born of inexperience and self-consciousness. Delma Lamar does the same exact dance in the same exact outfit as Delma Jamar. And can you blame them for being like this when those are their real names? Then he fucks everything up for all three of them by screaming and flopping around.

Simon gets the award tonight for calling this whole thing "shambolic." He describes it as one of the most ridiculous, unfunny routines he's ever had "the misfortune to sit through." Delma Lamar looked "like a fool up there" and they should "enter a different kind of competition where we'll all laugh at you -- for the right reasons." Oh, snap! Simon is disgusted and thinks it's so stupid he doesn't even know what to say. Then the judges fight about who should get cut and Paula freaks out about…um, how voting works. She is fighting, by the way, for Delma Lamar. Which is ridiculous. It's very uncomfortable for the boys as they watch this deliberation going on and on. She flips out and calls over an executive producer. Seacrest is aghast at all this.

It's so awesome. Paula is telling the producer that Simon "personally cannot stand" one of the contestants, who growls at her around a mouthful of ice to stop talking about him when he's sitting right there, and to say it directly to him instead of going all Elizabeth Pha about it. (Randy is now also officially uncomfortable.) They start yelling at each other, and she orders the producer around to the front of the desk so that she can tell both of them how much she hates Simon Cowell. This is great. She's about to cry. She's got that "I see red" face with the shaky lips where you can tell they've both gone to where the fight is having them and it has nothing to do with these guys or anything at all but about how when she looks at him right now she doesn't see his face so much as she sees everybody who ever called her stupid, and it's pretty raw and scary, and he's staring at her but all he's seeing is a particular kind of ball and chain, and their faces feel hot, and there's a warm, heavy feeling in their stomachs because they're not really fighting each other but the things they hate in each other, and it's terrible, and amazing. But so there's this buildup of crazy due to the fact that this fight has nothing to do with any of this and everything to do with that study where they kept the rats in a tiny cage until they ate each other, and so when she declares, "He can't stand someone!" it seems pointless and not that big a deal.

I see what she's getting at, and at first I couldn't figure who she meant: Simon likes hot blond boys and the money they bring, so it's not Tim, and Delma is the one who fucked it up, so that shouldn't be an issue, and Aaron Kelly shouldn't even really be there, so, like, who are they fighting about? And how the fuck can Paula Abdul accuse Simon Cowell of letting his personal feelings for a contestant get in the way of being honest about their talent and/or salability? The boys are so frigging uncomfortable. Awkward. The producer then has to explain to them that voting, um, works the same way that it did yesterday, and the same way that it will tomorrow, which is that two is a larger number than one, and thus constitutes a majority. So there's a split decision on Tim, in his favor, and Aaron is aghast when he's sent home, and finally Delma, who Simon saved for last due to the craziness, is out. Simon offers Paula a conciliatory hug, into which she jumps like it's a hot bath, and Randy makes the crowd go, "Awww." Barf.

And that's cool, because they both disengaged from the hot red monster of rage a lot faster than I thought they would. And if Simon pretends to stab Paula repeatedly in the back of the head with his pencil, it's nice to know he doesn't mean it. Not really. Well, not exactly. Well, ideation is one thing but doing it is another entirely. There's no such thing as thoughtcrime. Yet.

John, Kurtis, and JP are practicing their harmony, and they sound good. Fingers crossed.

Jaclyn's mom is confirmed as having food poisoning and not an attack. Can't get a break, this lady. Jaclyn looks a little -- slow? -- but I like her voice, and the dancing around has improved. Rashida is now on her third voice, and it is just as great as the other two. You can finally hear some wear and tear, unlike the first time she sang with her cold, but she compensates well for it. Ashlee, I am looking at you. Faith Gatewood (21, Bay City MI) finally shows up after the whole hotel thing two hours ago, and sounds not that great, but I think that's because Rashida is awesome and makes her look bad.

Faith's very pretty, but gaunt, and she's a little nasal. It's nice that they put her in the prime spot, at the end of the song, because she's the least strong singer. It's interesting who ends up in the glory spot with each team. So Faith points out that even though there is no excuse for a bad performance, she has one anyway. I hate that so very much. "I know you shouldn't punch people, but…" BOOM!

Why bring up the rule that you're breaking? "Sorry I haven't read the last fifteen pages or fifteen days, whichever is shorter, but I just had to tell you that I think Leroy is soooo funny!" Anyway, she asks for sympathy…and Paula lets it go for awhile before explaining that they were awesome and to shut the hell up. Faith keeps talking anyway. Jeez. They all get through, and Jaclyn's mom comes back so it's giggles and puppies all around. Except for Simon's wink at one of them, while he's making a weird Droopy Dawg face. I don't know, but it's unsettling.

Now, a bunch of people who can't sing, comparatively, and who don't know the words, who don't really matter, and cover it all up in varying degrees of not that well. Nicholas Kolbosky (24, the Vegas) cracks Paula up with his bad making up of lyrics. It is boring and it is crap.

Speaking of forgetting lyrics, back to the Geek Troika: Kurtis Parks (22, Salem MA) is not that bad a singer, actually. I like him. That makes me happy because I was back and forth about him. John Zisa forgets more words than Kurtis did, and then JP forgets just all the words, and kind of…dies inside. I don't know what the hell this song is. Apparently it's some Barry Manilow song. I couldn't care less. I care to the opposite degree of its existence. I care about not knowing it. I uncare so much that I may have caused them to forget all the words with the power of my disinterest. It's very painful, though, to watch JP hate himself for not knowing the song. JP is not happy all the time, you guys. It's awful.

They just start singing random words. They sound nice, sure, but it's not a song, it's an obvious stab at hiding their incompetence. Randy points out, humorously, that none of them actually sang the song, so they can't really be judged in the usual way. John explains that they chose the wrong song, and Simon agrees, and then…gives them another chance? Kurtis is fucking fine. I don't know. It just happened. I must have blinked. JP loses his shit once more. He can barely stand up for the crying, and John and Kurtis scream their freaking asses off instead of getting contrite like they ought. Seacrest comes in to feed off their human emotions. He asks why they got through, and Kurtis explains that the judges saw "the braveness that it took to take that song," and John opines that this somehow was taking "a chance." There's got to be more to it!

JP is so fucking freaked out, y'all. "I've never had nerves like this in my life!" I don't really believe that? Because he seems to be freaking out a lot of the time. John and Kurtis simply adore him -- they are happy with him, and they believe in him, and it's cute. Ryan loves him too. It's nice. Kurtis and John look so much alike it's blowing my mind.

Anyway, with that weird miracle, we're done. 75 total to the round, and the only person I saw get through not mentioned above is Angel Kay LeTourneau. Ugh. There's some totally inspiring music. week everyone you totally know is getting through pretends to be worried about it, and then they split them into the Rooms of Losers and Continuers, which I love almost as much as the teams round, and might take two hours this year! So enjoyable! Will the dashing of entire rooms' worth of dreams ever get old? Seacrest out!