Ugh. I'm so disillusioned with The Idol.
My cousin, however, has written an excellent post about the remaining seven. Click here to read.
Lucky for you, work is terribly boring and I can spend as much time as my little heart desires on this recap. Who's excited?!?
I feel, as sad as it is, that there will be a hole in my heart when the season finally comes to a close. But then I'll find something else to make fun of and bitch about. The new B. Spears and K. Fed reality series, perhaps??
Anywho...onto the recap.
Constantine was up first. And he's most certainly wearing eyeliner and exposing his chest hair. It makes me wretch and completely lose my onion and garlic potato chip appetite. Randy says he's "so Las Vegas" but I do not know a soul who would pay to see him there, unless he happens to be playing in the lounge of the hotel one is residing at. Stardust anyone? Maybe he can join Electric Avenue (now called The Verge...woah). Paula, as usual, thinks he's great and wonderful and blah blah blah. Simon says he is like "a waiter in a ghastly spanish night club." I've never been Simon but you so rarely steer me wrong.
Carrie is next and although she's sporting the big hair (which I love), she stares into the camera like she's trying to hynoptize the audience with her mid western charm and shiny blue eyes. I'm not falling for it! I'm blinking...see me blinking?? The low notes were inaudible so I was surprised when Randy and Paula praised her enough to make me stop eating. No luck..because then Simon came in with "Barbie meets the Stepford Wives." Her dress what ill fitting and muy lame. Uh...yeah.
Scott. He looks like he's gained weight. Either that, or he needs to stop wearing his pajamas on stage. "Everlasting Love" is a great song and all but I couldn't hear you over the fantastic back-up singers, who should have a show of their own. The high point of this performance was the end, when I caught sight of a sign in the audience that read "White Velvet." That's...amazing.
Anthony. Even before he starts up, I'm already frightened by the air humping that is yet to come. When he mentions that he has taken two years of Latin dancing, I laughed out loud and spewed chip everywhere. After I composed myself in the middle of the performance, I had to leave the room. There was just not enough air for him to hump and for me to breathe.
*FAVORITE ALERT*I love you, Vonzell. I think you are gorgeous, have a hot little bod and are just so cheery and happy and fun. You can sing, too girl! You make me all warm and fuzzy. If you don't win, I'm quitting my job and moving to Florida to be a postal worker with you. Won't it be grand? *FAVORITE ALERT*
Anwar, please put away your waxed chest. And stop skipping. And stop pretending you're going to win. When I think back on the days of the yellow leather jacket, I get sad, man. Real sad.
Hi Bo. You could not be less into being the next American Idol. Yet even though you could give two shits about the competition, you are still good even when you don't try. Because you did not try at all tonight, I could tell. Mentally, you were in your buddy's garage, belting out Skynard tunes and taking bong hits. Don't deny it.