Before YouTube, recapping music videos is totally a thing and not a waste of time. Really..
Season 3: I'm Outta Love
"Here we go again," Ryan Sleazebag says with practised joviality as he stands on the stage, with four members of today's Eight flanking his each side. He repeats the same spiel about how the future of these Eight are decided by the audience on this show. Do you want to hold Fatt Gross Bowel's future in your hands, people? Apparently you do, and by gosh, I hope you suffer when he lingers on this show until May like some disgusting pustule on your nose that just won't go away, all of you people that voted for Gross Bowel to get through. I hope you pay, because if Lisa Looshawoo doesn't get through by Wild Card selection, all of you must pay and pay and pay!
Credits. Go away. I'm bitter.
Ryan "Caught In A Gross Bowel Movement" Sleazebag prances onto the stage in a shirt that is so Ricky Martin. He says that the applauding audience are indeed very welcome on the show because due to everyone's "support" and "fanatical devotion", this show is the most popular show on TV. He's not the kind to blow his trumpet in front of thirty-something million people, he says, but - oh stuff it, Sleazebag. I'm really not in the mood, trumpets or otherwise. He says that he knows that people are not tuning in for the judges, but he has to introduce them nonetheless as it's due to union law. And this is even before California has approved same-sex unions yet and - what? Oh, Sleazebag is talking about that kind of union? Whatever. Still bitter.
Sleazebag calls King Tut "the man with the scowl" because Sleazebag thinks it's funny that "Cowell" rhymes with "scowl". King Tut half-frowns, half-laughs, all "hypocritical fat-women hating brown owl", which coincidentally also rhymes with "Cowell". Miss Paula is, well, Miss Paula. Randy Randy's body seems to be eating away at its own fat source, but for some reason his now disproportionately large head doesn't seem to be in sync with the rest of his body. These are very grotesque people that they have hired to become judges on this show.
Sleazebag walks into the Red Room and introduces the contestants. What's this show without some desperate gimmick, no matter how flimsy it is, right? So Sleazebag talks about the "Battle Of The Brothers" between Jesus and Noel Roman. He also talks about his bear hug with Gross Bowel during Pasedena. Me? Don't care. Still bitter.
The first person to start is Fatt Gross Bowel. He's twenty-five, that's the first thing he says. Yeah right - he's twenty-five twenty years ago. Hey, Smoking Gun, will I be seeing a copy of the birth certificate anytime soon? He wishes to squash the dumb jock stereotype (oh right, talking non-stop about a dubious college-day achievement as the turning point in your forty-five years of living is so going to squash that perception). Someone calls him a metrosexual. While he doesn't know what a metrosexual is (yipee, he doesn't read - that is really going to make people perceive him as a non-dumb jock, I tell you), he loves to shop (bling-bling obsessed wannabe alert) and he cries (wait until you see the other things he does when he's drunk) and because he thinks he's now a word that he doesn't really understand, he wants America to feel his passion and make him an Idol.
His song is What You Won't Do For Love and he performs it in a way similar to that of every other average singer one can find in karaoke bars everywhere. Some things I'm happy to credit him for is that at least he can hold his notes and he sings in key. But overall, the performance is safe and on the bland side. I don't hate his singing as much as his attitude, which is in full force when he receives the judges' criticisms. His face turns so murderous, he comes off like some deluded bully that will not hesitate to use his fists on anyone that disagrees with him. He dresses sloppily for today (metrosexual - hah!) so he unfortunately looks like something dragged out of the trailer trash garbage heap; when he starts emitting jerk vibes, he's not so much a jock stereotype as much as he's the Jerry Springeresque stereotype of a lower class white trash male. And that "hoo-hoo-hoo!" thing he does at the end of the performance? Very unfortunately "British soccer hooligan fans", I'm afraid.
Randy Randy says that he's not feeling Gross Bowel's performance, being that his stomach is stapled and all that. Gross Bowel's expression will be right at home in the photo stills in Crime Watch. He whines that he has changed some of the notes on that song so that he can hit the high notes (what high notes, I wonder). Miss Paula agrees with Randy Randy - she doesn't feel it either. Her favorite diet can cause constipation as a side affect after all. Both of them miss the Gross Bowel of the auditions. King Tut rates Gross Bowel's performance a three out of ten. He reminds Gross Bowel that this show is the biggest talent show around, leaving the unsaid inference that Gross Bowel just isn't good enough.
Back in the Red Room, Gross Bowel tells Sleazebag that the whole thing is "not good" and insists that he's really comfortable on stage. It's a pattern with him, I notice: the judges always don't get it when they criticize him. I guess Gross Bowel believes that he's always right and he's better than everybody else. He's still seated and looking murderous by the time the commercial break is over and Sleazebag announces that Bri Can't Dance is next.
Bri Can't Dance is twenty-three and she has some strange thing for suspenders, saying that they are her "security blanket". She praises her father for telling her to be who she is, which is ironic as we shall soon see that she makes what could be her biggest mistake by selling out and turning into some Grand Dame of Snoozesville when she's more likely to blast out an Alanis Morisette song like she did in her audition. King Tut reminds her of her mother, she says, and a clip shows him telling her to "lighten up". She promises that she will. She will also give this performance her 110% so whatever happens, she will go home happy.
Oh, Bri, I have so much hopes for her to be the Attitude Gal this season, but her Don't Know Why is just boring. Why would anyone cover a song popularized by the Queen of Sleeping Pills, Norah Jones? The first key is off, but Bri recovers soon after, and while the delivery is passable, the song is totally wrong for her and for this show. Don't Know Why sees her sticking to a limited middle range in key that shows off nothing about her vocal prowess. Randy Randy says what I am thinking apart from he loving Norah Jones - the song shows nothing about her vocal abilities. Miss Paula agrees, saying that she no longer feels Bri's uniqueness. King Tut says that the performance is "just okay". He adds that he told Miss Paula as soon as Bri ended her performance, "How the hell are you supposed to constructively say something to that? Whoopee?"
Indeed, Bri Can't Dance illustrates a rather extreme example of someone that really tries to be someone safe and entirely not her in some misguided attempt to be accepted. Nowhere has such a situation worked against someone as bad as it did with Bri. I hope future contestants will take note of the lesson Bri learned and be themselves come what may. Bri Can't Dance tells Sleazebag in the Red Room that things can only get better if America give her a chance.
I should point out that Sleazebag is Very, Very Serious today when he talks to the contestants. He's still in his talkshow host mode, I guess. And he's also looking very adorable with his new smart haircut. Maybe I will watch his new show after all... not. I'm not that desperate for entertainment, sorry Sleazie.
Noel Roman is next. He says that he has been dreaming of fame since he was fourteen. He is proud to have turned out okay after growing up in the Bronx. In his clip, he is shown to be enthusiastic while wearing truly ugly shorts in his vocal sessions with Debra Byrd. He ends by saying that this day is the first time he has ever attended a concert.
In a way, I really sympathize with Noel and his brother Jesus. They can probably sing, as their initial auditions show, and they have the ambitions but they are clearly out of their league when it comes to the level of sophistication and polish compared to those of the other famehos on this show. I don't know if it's nerves, but Noel's This I Promise You is atrocious. It is totally off-key somewhere into the third line of the song and it's off-key all the way to the end. Randy Randy points out that Noel hit only three out of twenty notes correctly. That was terrible, he says of Noel's performance, and wonders aloud whether the judges have made a mistake by bringing these lot here today. Miss Paula apologizes to Noel before saying that she misses Noel's "dynamic personality" (or should that be "dynamite"?) and she really doesn't know what to say about the performance. When even Paula is slamming Noel, ouch. King Tut calls the performance "absolutely excruciating" and says that the only way Noel can win this contest is if the winner is chosen on the basis of singing out of tune.
Back in the Red Room, Sleazebag sounds sympathetic as he reinserts the knife into Noel's sides by reminding him that the judges slammed him for singing out of key. He asks Noel whether Noel can fit into the calibre of first group of eight contestants. Noel can't see why he shouldn't fit in. Okay, I'm no longer sympathetic to this guy. Good riddance! Sleazebag then leans over to Kara Masters, seated on his left, and places his hand over hers. He asks her whether her nerves are "building up". She says it is. Sleazebag makes a mental note to pitch his latest line of mascara to her at a more convenient time.
Kara Masters is next. Since she has never been seen or heard of until now, I watch her introductory clip with a little more interest than I usually would. She's twenty-five, is studying to be a nurse, people say she looks like Sarah Jessica Parker (I don't really see it), and is disappointed that they don't allow her to wear a revealing dress to perform, so she chooses to wear something less revealing but just as tacky. King Tut is shown comparing her to Tomato. I'm really not sure though how complimentary it is to be compared to a contestant who is remembered more for the size of her bra cup than her singing. I think I know why they don't bother to show anything of her until they absolutely have to, such as now.
She chooses to perform Anastascia's I'm Outta Love. She starts out okay, but her performance becomes more and more bland as it's apparent that she lacks Anastascia's sassy growl to make this otherwise dull uptempo song work. It doesn't help that Kara is one of the many Pretty Young Cheerleaders on this show that I simply cannot tell apart: Di Guano, Camile Velasco, Ashley Thomas, and other nondescript patchworks of Pepsodent teeth, perky attitude, well-groomed hair, and absolute blandness in singing. They look and sound the same, as if they are manufactured from the same Brunette or Blonde template in some Pretty Factory, and they all seem to siphon what little personality they have from a limited source on the alien mothership from Planet Limited Too.
Randy Randy declares that the performance isn't his thing. Kara asks him to give her a constructive advice. He flatly tells her to choose a better song and sing it better. He laughs as Kara asks him what he is doing after the show. I think I am supposed to find her sassy but she's actually coming off as... well, dead, for the want of a better word to describe her state of utter blandness. She may be a nice person in real life, but she, like so many of the PYCs on this show, has no star-like charisma to command people's attention and to qualify as a marketable pop star. Miss Paula seems more intent on praising Anastascia's "huge voice" than Kara's actual performance. King Tut says that it is a good thing that the show doesn't charge its audience or the audience will be demanding a refund - the performance, he says, is "absolutely terrible". Time isn't free, King Tut.
In the Red Room, Sleazebag, still wearing his Dear Abby mask, sympathetically murmurs that it must be really hard that the judges hate Kara's performance. Meow! Kara says that she has a sinus infection that affects her hearing, so people should still vote for her anyway. And besides, this infection will be gone soon. Sorry, Kara, I have a chronic case of "dongivadamnus" so I can't vote for you. But I will feel better soon, so cheer up! Sleazebag wonders how she can hear him if she has that sinus infection.
Before the show goes into its two hundredth commercial break, Sleazebag reminds the idiots in the audience to dial the correct number because some poor eightysomething old lady receives millions of phone calls last week. Kara says that he is bluffing. He says that he isn't, and that old lady is watching the show right now. Hmmm, but King Tut has to watch the show, doesn't he, as he's the judge on it and... oww! Why did you pinch me, Tutty?
Lisa Looshawoo is now stepping up to perform. She's twenty-one and is a karaoke assistant (must resist snigger) from Washington. King Tut criticized her weight but she's not giving his criticism too much credence - as she should, since she's far from overweight like somebody else on this show that King Tut never hit on *coughRubencoughJonah* - as she is comfortable with her own skin and what not. Debra Byrd is shown telling Lisa to stop throwing her head back when she is hitting the high notes.
She chooses to perform Chaka Khan's Sweet Thang and wow, she doesn't suck! The arrangement of the song is on the dull side, but Lisa's delivery is on tune. Her high notes are well-done without her sounding like drowning cats. She reminds me of Kelly Cluckson too much in her voice and delivery, but I like this one. Definitely the best of tonight. And what does America do? Yes, you voted for Fatt Gross Bowel instead. I hope all of you sleep easy knowing that you will be plagued by a grossly mediocre ugly guy with attitude problems in the upcoming months. Obviously some people never learn from the Josh Don't Tell fiasco last season.
Randy Randy is overjoyed that "finally" they have their first good performance of the day. He thanks God. God's answering machine picks up the call because He is too busy listening to Trenyce's demo tape and giving His approval. Sorry, I'm still bitter about Trenyce and my bitterness just gets bigger thanks to this unfairness inflicted on Lisa. Miss Paula is happy for her. King Tut says that Lisa did something different tonight - she sang in tune! Miss Paula cuts in to correct him, saying that Lisa always sings in tune. He amends his statement, saying that Lisa is different compared to the other out-of-tune contestants. Still, he adds that he isn't bowled over by the performance that much. But he agrees with Miss Paula and Randy Randy that Lisa is the best of the night so far.
In the Red Room, Sleazebag says that Lisa must be feeling ecstatic. Lisa says yes, she feels the song so she manages to feel confident, blah blah blah, and the show fades to another commercial break.
Sleazebag says that he never expects to say this, but Jesus is next. Oh, that Sleazie is so funny sometimes, I tell you! He tells Jesus that Noel didn't do too well, so he asks Jesus how he feels about his own chances. Jesus just says that he is ready to go. Gosh, I feel like I'm committing sacrilege putting "ready to go" and "Jesus" in the same sentence.
In his introductory clip, Jesus says that he is a handyman and he feels that this show is his last chance to hit the big time. King Tut is shown pointing out to Jesus that he seems insecure in his onstage posture. Debra Byrd advises Jesus not to be so frozen on stage. Jesus is ordered to do push-ups to, er, unfrozen himself I guess. He asks America to vote for him so that he can hang up the mop. As I've said earlier, I really feel sorry for him and Noel. They have not been trained vocally and they have not even attended concerts - they are just middle-class boys from the Bronx with dreams. Their clips highlight some genuine desire to escape some middle-class existence more evidently than the perkier "I'm cute, I love to sing, hee-hee-hee!" clips of other contestants and in a way I find myself hoping that someone will pick them up and polish them up so that they can get another chance at Hollywood through other means. I emphatize with their desire to get a better life, I really do.
But Jesus, he's bad! Back At One is his song and he's off-key into the third word of the song, which beats his brother's dubious track record by a mile. The delivery is shaky and his voice is wobbling all over the place like a geriartic jello. He just has to emit a really painful botched high note towards the end of the song, I tell you. I don't think this Jesus is going to be a superstar anytime soon. And if his expression is anything to go by, even he knows how much he has botched up tonight.
Randy Randy asks Jesus why he rolls up his eyes. Does Jesus know that a raking is coming soon? Randy Randy makes the first move by saying that Jesus' performance was painful and after that high note came, Randy Randy is all but begging, "Please, put a stop to it!". Miss Paula comments that Jesus "came out defeated". I think she has inadvertently given the best sacrilegious punchline among all the Jesus jokes floating around the AI forums. Jesus says that he has tried his hardest. King Tut says that the "good news" here is that Jesus made Noel sound good. Miss Paula says that she feels like hitting King Tut right now. King Tut invites her to, saying that she hitting him would make him feel better after listening to Jesus.
In the Red Room, Jesus tells Sleazebag that he agrees with the judges on how awful he is. Don't laugh, people, but I sigh a little at seeing him looking so resigned like that. Slezebag asks Jesus to tell America why America should embrace Jesus and Jesus says that it's because fame is all about hard work and he will work harder than most. He sounds like he's applying for an underpaid position in some company. Maybe Clive Davis would take pity on Jesus and make him RCA's newest janitor. Clive, you listening? You should do some good deeds once in a while for inflicting the likes of Kewpie onto the world.
Sleazebag reminds people that the first Hawaiian contestant is next. Great, Sleazie, go ahead and remind the whole of Hawaii to vote for Camile Velasco some more and cause Lisa to lose. Bitter! Hate!
Camile talks about being eighteen and a waitress. King Tut asks her to control her vocals - because King Tut is always overly concerned about the breathing techniques of eighteen year old girls, I tell you. Camile is driven to tears over Debra Byrd's criticisms. Oh great, she's the Crybaby Barbie among the PYCs.
Camile chooses to sing One Last Cry. It's a safe and unexciting performance, but she sings in tune and displays some range. I really wish that these people will choose something different from the usual ballads. Camile's voice is a little more distinctive than the other PYCs, so it's disappointing to me to see it wasted on another safe ballad. They will have plenty of boring tired MOR ballads to sing when they win the contest after all. The judges miss Camile's Lauryn Hill act, but King Tut feels that Camile has the most potential among the contestants here. Because she is eighteen and she is not fat, and America agrees. Dear heavens, I wish all of you enjoy the Finals when Gross Bowel stinks up the show in the place that should have been Lisa's.
In the Red Room, Sleazebag scoots closer to Camile, his knee touching Camile's hip and his arm on the back of the couch as he leans over to Camile. Because if King Tut can do that, so can Sleazebag! Those two will see who can make the other person jealous the most. Sleazebag and Camile have some silly chatter about Randy Randy.
Still burning in jealousy and wanting to lash out at King Tut, Sleazebag then asks the contestants to comment on what bothers them most about King Tut. Trust Gross Bowel to say that he wants to make King Tut's head bleed. He tries to justify this when Sleazebag comments on the violent undertones of Gross Bowel's statement by saying that it is hard for him because King Tut has never complimented him. So that justifies his wanting to beat someone until he bleeds? Mind you, Gross Bowel is saying this in a dead serious murderous expression that must have remained on his face since his performance, so it's not as if he's joking. Gross Bowel is a jerk. And you people put him in the Finals - bravo! Camile thinks King Tut is mysterious and se - "Don't say 'sexy'!" Sleazebag cuts in - er, intimidating.
Foiled in his attempt to annoy King Tut, Sleazebag talks about how some people must have wanted to slug King Tut in the face. Why the violence, Sleazebag? Please don't tell me that you condone domestic violence because I have such high hopes for you and Tutty. Sleazebag then asks everyone to enjoy a clip from an upcoming episode of The Simpsons, where Homer slugs a yellow King Tut that keeps criticizing Homer's pugilistic techniques. That would be funny if King Tut hasn't recycled that schtick in commercials and in Scary Movie 3 and other nonsense a million times already in the last three years. They cancelled Futurama and kept the creatively bankrupt The Simpsons for this? So bitter! Very bitter! King Tut laughs at the clip and Sleazebag says that he wishes that the whole clip isn't in animation. Gee, a self-proclaimed family show condoning physical abuse live on TV. No wonder Gross Bowel is a shoo-in. Maybe "family" here refers to the various subsets of clans and gangs in prisons all over the country. Yo bitch, you haven't paid your dues to King Tut, so farking forget the soap, bend over baby or we'll smash you in the head until you bleed, yee-haw!
Marisa Sobecki-Engle is next and she has changed her name to Marisa Joy. Her introductory clip explains that she's nineteen and working in a coffeeshop. She was told during the audition that she was a little too cute and now she's still cute but more confident. I think that's a good thing. I think. She feels that this whole adventure of hers is a dream that she doesn't want to wake up from.
She sings Some Kind Of Wonderful. Her posture is quite weird, sort of like she's sitting on a toilet. So the whole unfortunate effect is Marisa coming off like some very average singer in a Nashville bar trying to belt out a tune to pass her time on the toilet bowl. The singing is okay but not too impressive but at least it's an uptempo song. Randy Randy is happy that the show is over but adds that he's glad that Marisa chose an uptempo song to end the day. He wonders about her stance and says that he isn't too impressed with her vocals. Miss Paula thinks that Marisa is beautiful and tactfully ends after that statement. Marisa says that she is nervous to perform last. King Tut says that she shouldn't be as her performance followed some really terrible performances from other contestants. He thinks that she has a nice voice but he is distracted by her posture, which he describes to be the posture of a bar singer. He thinks however that she's in the Top Three today as some of the others are "shocking" and their songs were "abysmal with a capital A". He thanks Marisa for her performance and she thanks him for his, er, compliment.
Marisa lets out a "Woo!" in the Red Room and Sleazebag jealously asks, "Woo what?" She tells him that she feels lighter and more confident, blah blah blah. Sleazebag wonders whether Marisa would be in Top Two and the show awaits America's decision. Then he and the Eight pose around or on the couch as Sleazebag announces that the competition is over and the future of all of these people are in the audience's hands. He thanks Michael O and the live band for doing a crapass job, the judges, and of course, the audience. "Sleazebag's out! And bye bye!"
Still very bitter.
Results show. There are people manning the controls in some studio and on the screen is the result show. The show zoom onto the screen and yup, it's really the result show. Manly Voiceover Guy talks about how these Eight performed hard and now America voted for them, yadda yadda yadda, and I realize as the camera zooms on the contestants that Bri Can't Dance is really, really short.
Credits. Hate. Hate. HATE.
Ryan "Touch Me In The Morning" Sleazebag comes out in a light-cream hued shirt and blue jeans with matching brown jacket. Metrosexuals take note: Sleazie here is looking damn fine today. This is what a metrosexual is, not some disgusting violent-prone fat slob. That guy that complimented Gross Bowel is probably some chubby chaser talking nonsense because according to some AI fans that actually find that guy hot, Gross Bowel looks just like those dumb hot guys that subscribe to the "I Ain't Gay If I Am Very, Very Drunk" principle. Take note, King Tut: these people want to sleep with Gross Bowel but nobody says anything about buying the CD, unlike Kewpie fans that want to sleep with him, marry him, share their dresses with him, and buy a hundred copies of everything Kewpie puts out.
Sleazebag wonders about the abysmal overall standard of this group's performances. He asks whether the suck is due to the contestants' nerves or a lack of rehearsal. How about the fact that they all just suck really hard in the first place? He says that the voting results of Top Two are very close, as the first person receives 27.8% of the votes and the second person 27.0%. There is only a 0.8% difference and he says that yes, this time he is right. I love a metrosexual that has the balls to admit that he can't count to save his life.
He introduces the judges, saying that King Tut is still pouting today. King Tut insists that he is not pouting. Sleazebag calls him the Master of the Pout. Aren't they sweet? They are so into each other that the heartwarming banters and flirtation that result from their make-up sex last night can't help spilling over onto the show. Love is such a welcome profusion onto this show after last night's misguided condoning of domestic violence, don't you think?
I shudder to describe what Miss Paula is wearing today. With that hideous brown color in that Maybelline salesgirl blouse with its garishly red collar to the bizarre brown leprechaun hat with garish red hatband, she looks like some lipstick promoter in K-Mart accidentally dipped in a vat of chocolate.
After recapping last night's show, Sleazebag performs some mini Q&A with the Eight. Gross Bowel is really excited today and he hopes he will get through. Oh, and he loves King Tut now, maybe because he realizes that King Tut can kick his sorry ass from here to wherever at any time, any day. Bri Can't Dance really regrets her song choice and wishes that she has stuck with some song that is more to her style. So much for going home happy, huh? I hope future contestants will learn from Bri's mistake, but I doubt it. Famehos aren't exactly a bright bunch as a general rule. Camile still thinks that King Tut is sexy, prompting Sleazebag to wonder in suppressed jealousy when she will "come out of that spell".
But first, the judges weigh in on what they think will be America's choice. Randy Randy is disappointed on the overall performance but chooses Camile and Lisa. Miss Paula calls last night "a weird week" (don't ask) and chooses Camile and Lisa. King Tut says that he chooses only Camile and he doesn't care about the rest. Sleazebag, probably making plans to spike Camile's dinner with laxatives after this, tells King Tut that he must care. King Tut repeats that he doesn't give a damn as he isn't "passionate" last night. (The jokes write themselves sometimes.) Sleazebag reminds him that he and the other two judges put those Eight on this show. King Tut puts an anology so that Sleazebag can understand his feeling: he says that they only need to find two person out of a million applicants, sort of like how thousands applied to host this show but they chose Sleazebag! Sleazebag looked somewhat at loss for words and quickly plugs some stupid contest on the official website where you can make your home music videos for some Ford advertisement contest thingie. Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson will be perfect shoo-in contestants for this one.
Finally, the results. Noel, it is not his season. Hollywood is not ready to embrace Jesus yet. Sleazebag just has to ask them whom they think has the higher votes. Jesus may be a loser but he's still the boss of Noel so of course he says he's the one. Sleazebag confirms this: Jesus has 70,000 more votes than Noel. He hopes that this will be something for the brothers to talk about. Meanwhile, the other Roman brother in the Red Room looks stony-faced. Lisa is in. His father in the Red Room looks bored out of his wits - he has his hand over his face in a "Don't look at me but I'm asleep" way. Kara's out of love but Camile is in because King Tut says so and the idiots on the phonelines obey. Bri Can't Dance won't be dancing the night away in Hollywood - that will teach her to betray her Lilith Fair roots. Now it's Gross Bowel or Marisa Joy, but first, the thousandth commercial break and then the pimping of next week's Eight, and finally, the third person to qualify is... Fatt Gross Bowel! Yucks. Gross Bowel hugs Sleazebag and Sleazebag makes a face but says that it is not as painful as last time. Double yucks.
And then, with 27.8% of the votes at her command, the person with the highest vote is Camile Velasco! She begins crying. Her family members in the Red Room cry too. I wonder why. It is not as if Camile has won the contest or something, sheesh. Needless to say, when she sings her song one more time, she's out of tune, but since she's crying, I can't really knock her about the bleating sounds she is producing at that moment. The scene where they cut to Camile's lil' sister singing along to her is quite adorable though.
And then, it is Gross Bowel versus Lisa. Because Lisa is fat and talented and it is the rule that Pretty Boys must never get to the Finals, only ugly guys or androgynous asexual dweebs, Lisa is sent back to the bench while Gross Bowel roars. He and Sleazebag jump up and down facing each other before banging chests together. Triple yucks. Did I ever consider Sleazie cute today? His tastes that run to lousy men like burly and ugly jerks that lie about their age (and arguably, fat drama queens with limited "absolutely" and "with a capital A, D, T, or some other alphabet" vocabulary that slams normal-sized women for being fat while not saying a word to really obese men) are deplorable. Fatt Gross Bowel sings, and take a good look and good listen, you people, and I hope you enjoy the fact that, thanks to you, a fake plastic Hawaiian PYC and a smug mediocre jerk are going to be two of the Final Twelve. Enjoy the music and think of me as I shudder at the memories of the horrid blotus whale that is Josh Don't Tell and the damage he wrecked on last season.
Next week: um, Jon Peter Lewis the Pen Salesman versus Eric Yoder. I wonder who will triumph in the battle for the hearts of the soccer moms and their virginity-obsessed teenaged daughters that have outgrown Kewpie and are looking for some new Osmondesque virgin (real or imaginary) boy to nurture their obsession over. Me, I am wondering just where the heck the hot boys are. Come on, there are so many bland and nondescript PYCs for the people that like looking at gals, so how about us people that like looking at guys? Eric Yoder? The Pen Salesman? John Preator? Fatt Gross Bowel?
Bitter. Really bitter. Hate hate hate hate HATE!