"It's off the chain. Before you hit the clicker, don't be the poser in your shack. Grip the 411 when pimpin' hotties spit the verbage."
See, this is why I'm ambivalent about Fox having a news organ, because on the one hand, it's evil and not real news, but on the other hand, the local Fox affiliate affords us gems like the above. I want to get that shit tattooed on myself so I can refer to it whenever the kids these days talk their crazy slang. Isn't that awesome? I want to meet the person who approved that, and the person that wrote the copy for that ad, and the guy that pitched the idea in the first place, and the news reader who said that shit to me just now -- I want to get all these people together in one room, and then I want to do horrible things to them and make them cry because clearly they're just a titch too pleased with themselves. I'd hit that, in other words. Over and over again.
Tuesday
I know that the synthetic dirt that is now a part of Ryan's jeans is probably really expensive. I read about it in this month's Esquire. He's adorable getting everybody to scream and telling us that "it's all about the singing, but yours is the voice that matters." These poetic interludes send me. He acknowledges that Constantine is gone, and to the booing he relies, "You mean you cared?" because you ought to have voted, I think, is once again the implication. Ryan's like the League of Women Voters for this show. Get out and VOTE!
Paula looks high, Simon looks weird, and then Ryan seems very sincerely proud of them for making it to the final five, and then fakely asks if they are familiar with the songwriting duo Lieber and Stoller, and of course: Scott looks idiotic for a second, Carrie looks insecure and helpful, and Bo knows all about them and can name all their songs. Just in case you forgot who everybody was, here's your fake summary. I swear to you that this show actually is wrestling. The second theme is any song off the Top 40 charts for this week. Anthony is happy about that, you betcha. Lieber and Stoller looked like Ronald Reagan and Richard Kind, and they used to be hot, but now they're old as the hills, if not deceased. Those are pearls that were their songs, et cetera.
A-Fed explains that he will be singing, for his Lieber and Stoller choice, "Poison Ivy," which my uncle John used to sing to me all the time. I thought it was about botanical safety. I think Anthony thinks that. Like a merit badge or something. The thing is that my uncle John is awesome and hilarious, and I know for sure that he just liked singing a song about VD to a tiny child who would never know the difference, and I'd love Anthony so much more if he seemed to enjoy the idea of singing this on American Idol for that reason, but you and I both know he's not giving it that much thought.
“ Hush, little Scotty. We'll watch Wheel Of Fortune as soon as this is all over. I know that Vanna's pretty, in her sparkly dress. ”
There's a nice growl in his performance, and he addresses one of the lines to Simon, who giggles and grins at him, and physically he looks the best he has yet. Not that I'm crossing my fingers that I'll find him at the end of my Mystery Date! or anything, but I've spent a huge percentage of my life looking at goddamn Scott Savol, and I'm qualified to say when he looks good, and this is as good as he can look. He's rocking the hoodie-and-structured-jacket, which is something I always like, and he looksclean. He's clean-shaven so he doesn't look as much like a whoremaster -- research teaches me that this word gets a laugh, while nobody laughs when I say "procurer" -- and his voice is pretty lovely, and he's commanding, and there's like one part he fucks up and then throws a bunch of ornamentation in there to confuse you about it, and I really like the performance. Him I hate, but it's no skin off my ass to admit he was good.
There's this line of L.A. hotties (my tattoo says they are "pimpin' hotties," but my tattoo makes no damn sense) in the audience clapping for him and the screen mistakenly says, "Scott's friends." Nope. Come on.
I also noticed something else: He's ugly in exactly the same way as Fitty.
Scott's not happy that there were bad notes from Randy, but Randy ends with some props. Paula praises his "moxie." That's what she's calling it. (Well, she would.) She talks completely insane talk. Simon praises him for having "more escapes than Houdini." There's a very cute guy behind Simon, and to him is the pretty red-headed wife from Significant Others whose husband cheated on her with her sister. I love that show. Simon calls it his best performance ever and then Ryan holds Scott's hand -- I think it was Jane this month that had an article on celebrity hand-holding; Ryan's my fashion-forward little guy as usual -- for one second and Scott cannot handle it and jerks it away like a hot potato. I don't think he gets what Ryan's all about. I would like to see Ryan try that shit with Eminem. Or even just a conversation. I'm sure that's happened, he's like the most important DJ in the country. I should check that out. I bet there was no hand-holding. During the phone number Scott makes this effed-up face like, "That's right, bitches." He's a monster.
If Ryan Seacrest tried to hold my hand, I wouldn't care. And what's weird is, I don't think it would surprise me enough to notice one way of the other. It seems so in character that he would want to hold your hand, the same way that equestrians all make that one sound with their mouths and pat, pat, pat horses on the belly and the side and the neck. That's all he's doing. Hush, little Scotty. We'll watch Wheel Of Fortune as soon as this is all over. I know that Vanna's pretty, in her sparkly dress.