Previously – Our idiotic country voted off Amanda Overmyer’s skunk ass. Fools.
I’d like to start off this recap by giving a shout-out to two huge Socialite Life fans, Alex and Jenn. They are some hot sisters who took me to lunch yesterday and we talked, and laughed and ate delicious sushi. It was totally worth getting hit in the head with a pigeon on the way there. Seriously, a pigeon flew into my forehead. It was creepy. I almost scrubbed my face off when I got home. They’re flying rats! But lunch was incredible, and they totally rock and Socialite Life fans are the best fans! Oh, and Jenn blinded our waitress with ice. It was an eventful meal. This recap is dedicated to them!
Seacrest blabs on about how there’s only 10 victims left, and are the cue cards floating in space? His eyes are fixated on something high above the camera? They obviously have the teleprompter situated in the wrong place if this dumb bitch is going to be staring into the sky. And why does he need a teleprompter? How hard can it be to relate that there’s 10 people left and this is American Idol?
Please God; please get rid of Kristy Lee Cook this episode. She has to have run out of producers to blow. Seacrest’s faux-hawk is perfect. That’s the only thing. Randy Jackson’s t-shirt is too low cut. Leave the moobs to Simon. Ok, get this. Paula’s high ass is dressed up like pre-op Audrey Hepburn. She’s wearing evening gloves with jewelry over them. Someone got looped on tequila shooters and stumbled into the wardrobe department. Crazy bitch. She has no idea where she is and that’s why were love Paula. The outfit is sparkly again. I guess they kept her awake last week and she’s going with it again.
More Idol, after the jump.
Tonight’s theme is songs from the year the contestants were born. Ramiele Malubay is tiny. She’s short on talent, too. Still better than Kristy Lee Cook’s country-fried steak Marcia Brady ass. She was born in Saudi Arabia. Isn’t that a rich country? Couldn’t she afford better clothes and singing lessons? She’s talking about her hair as a child. These interviews are retarded. We meet her hot parents and they talk about how she was a biter as a child. She’s biting now, as well, if you know what I’m saying. Her mother pronounces “biting” as “bye-teeng” and I love her. I guess she was a champion karaoke singer. That doesn’t make you an Idol, bitch! She was born in 1987. I am an old bitch!
She’s singing Heart. No one will ever replace fat Ann Wilson. This bitch could put on a sumo costume and a wig and still not be anywhere near Ann Wilson. Hell, she’s not even Nancy. She picked a hot song, though. She’s got pipes but she’s making like a yowling alley cat. I feel like she’s the girl who got picked on in the Afterschool Special and this is the end and she proved them all wrong.
Randy mentions she’s sick and he’s sick. Paula is rocking back and forth because she’s in her interior control room, hanging streamers. I guess she’s really sick. Not Paula, Ramiele. Paula’s sick with addiction. Paula’s nice and stoned. I don’t care if she’s sick, pop a Ricola and get on the stick. Randy and Simon bitchslap each other over her performance and Randy keeps putting the inflection on the end of his sentences to make his point and it’s annoying. “You’ll find that her pitch was all over the PPLLACCEEEE.” Shut up, “dude”! Simon mocks him. Love you, love your sweater puppies, Simon.
The dreadlocked Jason Castor is up next. He was born in a bong. Ok, he was born in Dallas. He’s so stoned. He definitely shares his kind bud with Paula. It’s his birthday and he’s rambling on. He’s aware of his eye cuteness. Someone needs a taste of conjunctivitis. I think I could talk him into a circle jerk. He’s very laid back.
He does the singer-songwriter on the stool with the guitar thing. They should list the song and the artist because I can’t identify the damn thing. This is some beat lounge artist crap. I’m thoroughly unimpressed. In fact, this is where I go to make some Simply Asia noodles. Even the audience is unenthused. People are turning to their iPhones to take pictures of each other.
Randy is sick and a little catty this episode. Good. Oh, it was Sting. That might have added to the boredom. Can Paula stop applauding people with her evening gloves? She’s always applauding people. Applaud a drug counselor. Simon calls it like it is, and notes that it was very outside a subway station with an open guitar case holding crumpled dollar bills. The tweens shriek bloody murder for Jason so he could give one about what Simon says. He’s gonna get some strange after this show! A lot of it! Girls want to smell those nappy dreads up close! And rub them all over their bodies!
Oh, here’s Syesha Mercado. The cute but boring one. She’s talking about the cold winter’s night when she was born. How are people with spackle-like personalities still on this program, and Amanda Overmyer’s bar-brawling ass isn’t? I love her Moms, Zelda, when she tells us how Syesha threw tantrums. Syesha can do that f*cking obnoxious thing where you can make actual baby cries. People like that should be put in camps. I also hate when people baby talk. Seriously, re-education camps that show you how not to be an asshole. We watch her play on the red carpet and act a fool.
She’s singing “If I Were Your Woman” from 1987. Nice voice, typical performance. This Simply Asia is delicious. It’s sesame chicken! What show? Oh, right. American Idol. Randy loves her and tells her so. Her name is “Syesha” not “Iesha’, Paula. This isn’t Another Bad Creation. Did she just call her a “dark horse”? Don’t get racial, Paula! Simon pricks her balloon. Someone had to, I was bored. Syesha moves to grab a razor out of her ‘fro to cut Simon with. Paula says that Syesha was “creating magic”. Syesha was creating “rem sleep”!
Chikezie’s next! My man! My fantasy! My lover! Chikezie, baby, can you hear me? He is chocolate love. CHOCOLATE LOVE. Lil’ Chikezie! He’s from LA. His mother Chika is dramatic and powerful. I love her salmon sweater. Chika performs “Stand By Me” for us! They used to listen to Nigerian love songs in the household. I wish that were my childhood. OH MY GOD, CHIKEZIE IS SINGING…wait, that’s not Lionel Richie’s “Hello”. Shit. He played me. That was the song he sings to me in my sweaty fantasy. This is some Larry Graham-type stylin’! He plays to the tweens. I will shave their heads and turn them out into the cold street if they get near my ‘Ezie! Ok, his performance is total Cathay Pacific-I’ve-had-a-lot-of-Scorpion-Bowls-tonight but it resonates in my heart and loins.
Randy uses “dawg”, take a drink. He didn’t like Chikezie’s old school, Larry Graham approach. Paula rouses herself from her K-hole, and talks about tempo and Brenda Russell and Luther Vandross. Take us back, Paula! Simon found Chikezie to be “cheesy”. Is that Shar Jackson in the audience? Shouldn’t she be looking after her 20,000 kids with K-Fed? Chikezie gets defensive about what Simon says. Easy, ‘Ezie! Brooke White looked challenged as a baby.
The Dyson guy is creepy. Vacuum cleaners are not that serious. Brooke White was born in 83, so I feel a little better. Brook’s mom Kaylene is a hot piece. She’s windswept. Brooke had some hot glasses as a youngin’. Apparently, her playing is intuitive. Is that Cousin Oliver? Brooke flat-ironed her hair and screws up the beginning. It’s ok, just work through it, honey. Brooke went back to her piano-playing roots with this one. We’re still wincing over the twirl from last week. That was rough. I don’t if you should be turning this song about obsession into a declaration of love.
Randy liked how she stopped herself to correct things at the beginning. But that was about it. This is going to send her into a talk-to-herself, apologetic tizzy. Paula can hear Brook’s voice and know it’s her. Well, she’s standing right in front of you, Pillhead! Simon gave her the ok. Paula is terrifying me with her evening gloves and costume jewelry. Someone’s going to get scratched or get plastic in his or her eye.
They shill Coke. Here’s the boring Australian guy, Michael Johns. Why are his parents named “Burke”, then? “Johns” is a stage name? Damn, take some lessons from Marilyn Manson! He was also a competitive child. He was originally going to be a tennis player. Pick up that racquet again, Roddick.
He’s doing Queen. If I saw this Popsicle stick on TV, I would know it’s Idol. I would instinctively know that he’s not an actual performer with his own video or concert or something. He does add some much-needed drama to the proceedings. The flashing lights are doing me good. The tweens are moist and loving it. I probably shouldn’t talk about “moist tweens”. Paula’s proud of him. She’s stuttering. He probably helped her open a particular difficult pill bottle backstage and she’s grateful. Everyone loved his Queen ass. I guess I was wrong for not being impressed. Hey, I’m new to this gig!
Carly Smithson’s up! She was an adorable child. And took some really Picnic at Hanging Rock girls’ school photos when she was a kid. Her mother is Lucy Lawless. Yelp for us, Xena, and smite those barbarians! She’s named after Carly Simon. Her hair was crazy curly. She was adorable when she was missing teeth and trying to make cornrows out of her wig. Oh, and she’s singing my jam! “TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART!” Sing it, baby! Don’t disappoint! She flat-ironed her hair, too. Was there some sort of giveaway backstage or is this a product placement-type thing? She’s missing some notes but her tattoos will always help me look past that.
Randy didn’t love it. He’s feeling under the weather and it’s making him hainty. Paula disagrees. Paula isn’t crazy about Bonnie Tyler? She’s hit bottom. One of Carly’s friends has facial tattoos. How do you apply for non-record store or fetish club jobs with those? It’s basically saying, “I’m never going to work in the public sector.” Carly talks about going to the bathroom and someone into watersports coyote yips. Ok.
That little kid with the abusive father and the strident voice is up next. Milla Jovovich is making Target glamorous. I thought I was doing that, but fine. David Archuleta is next. I’m seriously calling the cops on Moment of Truth. David might miss Prom. Any of these hookers in the audience would go with him. What is this Zac Efron mess? I guess David’s girlfriend is here. She has big eyes. His mother Lupe is wonderful. The father is crazy. If David doesn’t sing, he gets his ass beat. Lupe get to DSS! They will help you!
David starts slow and soft. Kinda wavering. What is this song? It might be a bad song choice. Daddy’s getting his switch out. Is he wearing a belt over his shirt? How Over Our Heads-era Facts of Life of him. What is this song about overcoming adversity? I can cut a slice of this and put it on a cracker. Ok, Dad’s ok. Paula gets all xenophobic and says he should have picked an American composer. Oh, join a militia, Paula! Simon tells his ass it should have been a Magic Mountain performance. HAHA!
You can say “dillweed” in a commercial? By the way, I recap the commercials sometimes, too. Oh god, here’s Kristy Lee. Her jaw must be sore. She came out of her mother smiling. Yuck. Her Moms looks much older than her Dad. Her Mom might actually be the grandmother. And she’s wearing a horse t-shirt. She’s planning on charging her family for singing. She’s singing “God Bless The USA”. Is this for real? I hate this woman. With everything in my soul. She’s everything WRONG with this country. You know she’s been waiting to cut loose with this jingoistic mess since Day One. She’s reason enough to become an expatriate. I love my country and I think Kristy Lee Cook sucks. Kristy’s bro might be hot. Or is that the boyfriend? That’s her only redeeming quality. Kristy is trying to suck compliments out of Paula with her eyes. Simon feels it was “the most clever song choice in years.” He’s got her number. She dances with joy. Oh, you sick bitch. We’re not getting rid of her ass anytime soon.
Here’s that David Cook. He’s so self-satisfied. He’s still the bartender who thinks he’s the coolest dude in the room. There is some pedo guy standing amongst the tweens in the pit. No, I don’t mean Seacrest. David acknowledges that he has a big melon. Ok, we have that in common. His Mom seems sweet. Seacrest is so trying to find some male tweens to rub up on in the pit. David Cook is doing “Billie Jean” but in a slow burn ballad style. Great, we’re at a David Cook concert. I hope the opening act was good.
Randy tells David Cook that he’s the most original they’ve ever had. Paula can’t sit down because she soiled herself because she’s lost control of her bodily functions from all the drugs. Simon is gagging, but trying to do his job. Everyone loved him murdering Michael Jackson. Fine.
Next – I’m having a Kristy Lee Cook Sucks rally.