Anthony is beloved by the sorts of people that attend live tapings of this show, Nadia "whet Simon's appetite," Nikko was welcomed back by the rather hyperproductive audience, Carrie is horrible to deal with but "nice," that "this lot" (us) agreed with Simon on Mikalah, (we did), and ConstantineI don't want to go on and on about it. Then some Byzantine thing where they're going to perform extra songs for cash or something, for the sake of philanthropy. Ugh.
Then the group sings "When You Tell Me That You Love Me," and, you know, I can't. The Whatever include Anwar, Jessica, Nadia, A-Fed, and Mikalah, the Iffy include poor Lindsay and Anthony to start, and the Super-Awesome include the usual (for the most part) suspects: Nikko, Bo, Constantine (ick), and Vonzell. Carrie and Bo share a duet like that shit's going to rub off, and the camera tracks Mikalah through a whole Altman of drama, because that's her whole thing.
So now there's the disgusting drawn-out snuff film crap, right? Not so bad, plus Ryan is unshaven and generally looks about as hot as anything viable, but then, I'm in New Orleans this week, so I'm pretty skewed right now toward any boys that aren't actively screeching in Esperanto or Absinthetic or whatever the fuck drunk-talk carnie Made-Uppish dialect, cher. I'm pretty sure he looks exactly as good as a Seacrest can tonight, though. Even though he's telling us we're going to be singling out the bottom three before we get anything done.
First safe? Constantine, Nadia, and Anthony. Hands up those who are shocked, for slapping. Lindsey, who is obviously going home, is the first of the three tonight. Then Bo is safe and Carrie is safe and Scott is safe but doesn't matter, Mikalah is bullshit and second of the three, and Anwar is totally safe by any criterion. Then: Jessica fucked up last night, Nikko isn't Mario, and Vonzell equals a total lack of suspense.
Then everybody sings a stupid song about not parking on the dance floor. I swear to you that if this advice ever turns out to be of notice, I will have vastly more issues on my plate than parking, and it won't be welcome. It's just like always, dancing around the product-placed automobile like in that movie Freaks and it's all very exciting for absolutely nobody at all, but -- you'll correct me if I'm wrong, as far as Season Three -- way better than what I remember, in that it doesn't look like my cousin shot it on his Hi-8. Everybody looks super effing good, specifically Mikalah, Jessica, and effing A-Fed. If I promise I will never park on the dance floor, will you not show this to me again? Liar.
So then there's Lindsey, Mikalah, and Jessica, and they're standing there like fools, and Ryan and Simon flirt so much, all about how strong and manly and virile and mind-controlling Simon is, and Jessica's safe, that there's another commercial break, right before and about which Mikalah just starts openly bitching at Ryan, which gives Ryan the opportunity to do that thing he does I like so much, which is accidentally show how cool and smart and uninterested in all this he actually is, all, "Hey, why don't you bitch at me during the commercial break, halfwit?" And she shuts up because she gets it. She always gets it, sometimes it just takes a while.
Then Lindsey is over, even though she's wearing this ridiculous magic-looking Tucson rock around her neck, and there's a goodbye video that starts with when she was a little baby jazz chanteuse wearing country drag and continues for one million years until now, where she's a jazz chanteuse, wearing country drag. Figure it out, sweetheart. If Alison Moyet can get there, you can too. She is British, Lindsey! So's the Simply Red dude, for that matter. See what I'm saying? Figure it out! Show up the Brits!
Then she sings horribly and I'm glad the sing-outs are there and I'm glad she obviously knew she was going home, but dude, it sounds like shit. That makes me sad, even though physically she is rocking out in a very real way, jumping up into the Bo Spot behind the judges, and generally seeming bodily transported into a rock fantasy of unimaginable proportion while sounding aurally like Ruthie Camden and her weird French man thing, and then it's suddenly over because Ryan is still fine-tuning his very fine-tuned timing. So abrupt!