Liveblogging the Idol shitshow
by Kathy Cacace

This year I’ll be doing one entry per week that includes coverage of all the episodes. After a false start with the top 24, I’m back from here on out, until the bitter, bitter end. Check back at this entry tomorrow for the results show.

WEDNESDAY - The Results Show

8:58: Two seconds into the show and we’re already plugging that fucking “Horton Hears a Who” movie. And the Whos are wearing Nikes and drinking Pepsi out of Glad disposable cups in next to their Panasonic television. Marc Jacobs. Do I get free shit yet?

9:00: Jim Carrey is in the audience in an elephant costume. Remember when he was all serious and Gondry-ish in “Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?” Me neither.

9:01: The top 12 are doing a tribute to the Lennon/McCartney songbook and there is choreography. Everyone is a total spastic retard, except for David Hernandez, whose gogo is showing.

9:04: Oh god, David Archuleta is dancing and smiling. Let me adopt you! Please? I’ll be the world’s coolest mom! I’ll take you to the mall to get your ear pierced and we can always eat ice cream before dinner.

9:11: Okay, they’ve been doing the recap of the show for something like six minutes now. I know. We know. We were all here yesterday. You have now taken these minutes of my life TWICE. Also, my heart fluttered a little when they showed the Jason Castro clip. God. This is getting serious. I’m gonna be burning Nag Champa in front of a homemade finger painting of his face in another few episodes.

9:13: Secret bitch Carly Smithson is safe. Good job. Why do I hate you? It’s probably your fault. Michael Johns is also safe, though no less soap opera-esque. Whatever, I’m happy for him. It’s only got one life to live. BA-ZING.

9:14: Jason is safe! Tofutti Cuties on me!

9:15: Syesha is in the bottom three, which makes sense because I forgot that she even sang yesterday. Although now she’s singing the same song she did on Tuesday. Great. Now’s a good time to pee.

9:21: OH GOD, the Ford commercials! I forgot how unbearable these are! This is an election themed stinkeroo with a CAKE SONG as the soundtrack. When I think about performers that showcase vocal ability, Cake is immediately the band that springs to mind.

9:22: Amanda, the growling microphone fellator, just got really pumped about having met the lead singer of R.E.O. Speedwagon. I can only imagine what other dreams have yet to come true for Amanda. Enough Camel points to buy a leather couch? A renaissance fair that anachronistically still serves Michelob?

9:26: Chikezie is safe, Amanda is safe and may still rape me, and David Cook is safe, though still balding awkwardly.

9:28: Kristy Lee Bobbi Sue Whatever is in the bottom three and re-singing that chicken fried “8 Days a Week.” I’m trying not to hate everything tonight. She looks like one of the Sweet Valley Twins. Is that a compliment?

9:32: Uh, we’re now taking possibly scripted telephone calls from preteens. Is it this impossible to fill an hour of programming? Can’t we just watch more commercials?

9:38: Katharine McPhee (who still reeks of Scientology, if you ask me) is singing “Something,” with David Foster accompanying on the piano. She’s changed all the pronouns from “she” to “he,” which means that KATHARINE MCPHEE HATES GAY PEOPLE.

9:47: David Archuleta is safe! And smiling! Angels are getting their wings!

9:48: The other blond one is safe. Ramiele is safe. Which leaves Hotpants Hernandez in the bottom three. Gay joke! Katharine McPhee hates him!

9:50: In your opinion, does he pluck or wax his eyebrows?

9:56: Syesha is safe and will bore us again next week.

9:57: Kristy the Sweet Valley Twin is safe, which means that Hotpants goes home. I’m a little pissed. How the fuck am I supposed to get away with calling the other contestants gay every time they’re on camera? KATHARINE MCPHEE IS SO HAPPY, BECAUSE KATHARINE MCPHEE HATES GAYS.

9:59: If that rumor doesn’t make it on TMZ by tomorrow morning, I’m quitting this whole blog thing forever.

TUESDAY - The Top 12 Perform

7:56: I just painted my nails bright orange, I’m full of spaghetti and meatballs, I’m eating pear sorbet, and they just aired the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer makes the cable guy wait for him to show up at his apartment, which is a revenge fantasy I didn’t know I was harboring. I’m not sure American Idol is going to do anything to my night but bring it down. Here’s hoping for a nip slip or a wipe out or a loose hair weave.

8:00: New opening credits and set. Still look like they’re right out of a rollerblading movie in 1990.

8:02: Simon’s shirt is unbuttoned right down to his orange sternum, and there is some kind of awkward, semi-gay Seacrest/Cowell banter. God, I fucking hate this show.

8:04: The theme tonight is the Lennon/McCartney songbook. Randy explains, “These songs are good, man. They put it down, dude.” Somewhere, a VW van’s engine dies and will never run again.

8:07: Syesha is singing “Got to Get You Into My Life.” Is she wearing hotpants? Or is it just bad lighting on tight pants and a tunic?

8:08: Tunic. There is no god.

8:16: Chikezie, Mr. I’m Too Good for a Last Name, is wearing argyle and singing “She’s a Woman.” With a fiddle. And a tambourine. And a banjo.

8:17: Oh wait, now it’s badass country! Chikezie went down to Georgia! He was looking for some funk to steal!

8:22: Ryan Seacrest just touched Chikezie’s sweat. Please, PLEASE can we just assume they are having sex? Fluids were just exchanged! On national television!

8:23: Ramiele is singing “In My Life,” and I’m not sure why but the first camera shot was right above her head, like we were a giant and she was singing to charm us out of fee-fie-fo-smashing her.

8:27: Oh Jesus god, I am so bored. You know how sometimes huge jagged blocks of frozen urine fall from passing planes? If one of those could take out any person on the stage right now, I would gladly give an arm.

8:33: Jason Castro (the hippie) is still kind of appealing to me in a way that makes me worry that I will some day neglect all of my body hair.

8:35: Oh no, he’s singing “If I Fell.” I’m seduced! I give in! Let’s have babies and carry them around in batik scarves tied around our middles and I will nurse them without shame at the farmers market while you pick out the perfect bunch of kale.

8:44: Carly Smithson. There is something about you I do not trust. She’s singing “Come Together,” which is one of my favorite Beatles songs because this bitch just had to sing “toe jam football” in front of millions of people.

8:47: I can’t put my finger on it. Is she a boyfriend-stealer? Is she a shit-talker? Is she a diary-reader? Is she a stuff-in-your-teeth-check-liar? The lines are now open to vote why I think Carly is kind of a secret bitch.

8:54: DAVID COOK, YOU ARE BALD. THE BANGS ARE NOT FOOLING ANYONE.

8:55: Congrats, Cook. You turned “Eleanor Rigby” into an Evanescence jam. Or actually, more like Creed. Great. What the world needs is more than one Scott Stapp. If he starts tucking his t-shirts into leather pants, I will murder everyone I see.

9:04: Some generic blonde girl with a generic name like Brooke or something is talking about how she was a nanny. REALLY. I’m RIVETED.

9:05: You’re singing “Let it Be.” Why? You explain, “Because sometimes you just gotta let it be.” REALLY. You are a SCHOLAR.

9:15: David Hernandez is pretending like he used to serve pizza and go to college. And not dance. In his underwear. For boys.

9:17: He’s singing, “I Saw Her Standing There.” Like he likes girls. Instead of boys. In his butt.

9:25: Amanda Overmyer. You remind me of someone who would hit on me in a bowling alley. Or a character that Molly Shannon invented and discarded.

9:27: Is her microphone technique troublingly like fellatio, or is it just me?

9:35: Michael Johns, the soap operatic Australian is singing “Across the Universe.” His outfit is kind of stand-up comic circa 1991.

9:37: Brad says that Michael is like the lead singer from a band in a Lindsay Lohan movie from 1995. It’s true. Michael Johns is so inoffensive it’s offensive. He’s so vanilla it feels perverse.

9:41: Indistinguishable blonde number two is singing “8 Days a Week.” She is a country singer. She announces she’s going to take a big risk and, get ready, oh my god, seriously, do a country version of the song. Girl, you so crazy! What’s next? Semi-permanent hair dye?

9:51: Oh no! David Archuleta, who may actually be some kind of cherub or messiah or something, is kind of fucking up the words to “We Can Work It Out.” This performance can be salvaged if someone would just bring a paralyzed person on stage for him to heal.

9:55: Recap it, dial in, results tomorrow. I’ll be here. Same goddamn time, same goddamn place. I’m gonna go weave a hemp necklace. Seriously. I love that damn hippie.