Liveblogging the Idol shitshow
by Kathy Cacace

This year I’ll be doing one entry per week that includes coverage of all the episodes until the bitter, bitter end. Check back at this entry tomorrow for the results show.

WEDNESDAY: THE RESULTS

9:00: “Cloverfield” came today via Netflix. All that is standing between me and the blockbuster that everyone in the universe saw on the big screen but me is an hour of this bullshit. I could not be any less stoked.

9:01: The top six are singing “All I Ask of You.” The Web is playing the piano, but the angle of the camera and the look on his face just make it look like he’s doing something lewd.

9:10: After an endless recap, ALW hops out on his webbed feet and expounds about how difficult it is to sing on television. He actually looks like a dummy up on his little stool, his head jerking all over, looking around for laughs after he makes stupid joke after stupid joke. They didn’t interview Dolly. They didn’t interview Mariah. I’d rather listen to Carrie Underwood thank Jesus for fifteen minutes than this.

9:17: The commercial this week is Tainted Love, but a tribute to that A-Ha video for “Take on Me” with the comic and the blah blah blah I’m SO BORED JESUS SOMEONE RESCUE ME.

9:19: Um, cameo from the president and first lady? They look audioanimatronic. They thank us and bless us for our Idol Gives Back contribution. You’re welcome. I didn’t realize how much you appreciated me debasing an honorable effort.

9:21: David and David are safe. I was about to make fun of Ryan for calling the couch “the safety zone,” but then I realized that’s kind of what my couch is to me.

9:27: Docufiller about Tamyra Gray and Clay Aiken, who are both in Broadway shows. I always have words to say something shitty about someone, but I am completely at a loss as to what I can say about Clay Aiken and the depths of weirdness to which he has plummeted.

9:29: Oh thank GOD, Leona Lewis singing “Bleeding Love.” I was really concerned we were going to have to sit through a Spamalot number. Seriously, I love this song and have for months and I won’t get sick of it, so sorry, neighbors, I’m going to continue singing it in my room on repeat all through open window season and you can suck it.

9:36: Syesha and Brooke come out, and, because up is down and black is white, Syesha is in the bottom and Brooke is safe. This, as I am learning from my book on fundamentalist Mormonism, is because Mormons vote in blocs and she’s kinda LDS-y.

9:44: They bring out Carly and Jason. Jason has a large braided dreadlock pigtail and I’m not feeling it AT ALL. But he is safe, which is unfair. I can admit this despite still wanting to make disgusting hippie love with him. So Carly is in the bottom two. Not right.

9:46: And now they’re making Carly and Syesha sing again for zero reason. If the loser has to sing one of these loser songs again at the end of the show I’m shoving a screwdriver through my eardrum. But seriously, this is unfair. Brooke sucked and Jason sucked last night and we should be suffering through their bullshit songs again.

9:55: Carly is going home. You Irish bitch, we hardly knew ye. I totally started off hating her and now I kind of want to go out and pound beers with her — the admission that she wears Spanks turned me around. Brooke…I’m gunning for you.

TUESDAY: THE TOP 6 PERFORM

8:00: Oh yay! It’s Andrew Lloyd Weber week! Two hundred and fifty years ago, God breathed life into a toad-shaped ball of mud, and lo, Sir Weber crept forth to squirt his musical roe unto the masses.

8:03: The history of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s life. I am riveted and he is a vibrant heterosexual force of nature.

8:05: Seriously, I fucking hate this fucking show. I hate musical theater. I hate swelling strings that are not in an Arcade Fire song or a monster ballad.

8:08: Syesha is singing “One Rock and Roll Too Many” or something like that. I have no idea what this song is from. She is shimmying and she is snapping and kind of sexing up the gay band leader. I have just now realized, at 8:08 on April 22, 2008, that I am SO GLAD they didn’t cast me in “The Music Man” when I was 12. I was so pissed that my retainer made me lisp through my audition, but dude, it’s like the noose broke.

8:10: Hi Allison Janney.

8:15: Even Jason Castro singing “Memory” isn’t helping this stupid show.

8:16: No, I take it back: “I didn’t even know a cat was singing it,” he chuckles like a fucking dimwit.

8:17: Okay, lemme get serious for a second, here: Why, why, why, why, why did they not just hand him his acoustic guitar and say “Make that sound like ‘Hallelujah,’ moron, and you’ll stay.”

8:20: Paula makes the astounding revelation that people are used to hearing this song sung by “a female power balladier, and that’s not you.” Even Jason laughs, because, well, thanks Paula. Things learned this evening: Jason is not a woman. Andrew Lloyd Weber is a virile hunk of smoldering masculinity who does not laugh like an asthmatic Victorian schoolboy.

8:26: Supremely creepy interaction between Brooke and Andrew, where he explains the deep, retarded meaning behind “You Must Love Me.” What meaning is there besides “This song was written for Madonna and she doesn’t have any range at all, so you, Brooke, should have very little problem singing this?”

8:27: Oh man, and Brooke FUCKS UP HARDCORE. She forgets the lyrics and then asks the band to start over.

8:30: Paula says that Brooke is both good enough, and strong enough. Is this what we’ve come to? Stuart Smalley? Seriously? I want BLOOD.

8:39: Little baby Archulangel is singing “Think of Me,” and this is the first song that doesn’t sound like it’s being performed in a high school auditorium. I’m not saying that it doesn’t sound like the background music to a Valtrex commercial, but I’m taking what I can get at this point.

8:42: Hi Paul Stanley. Jesus.

8:47: Carly Smithson is singing “Jesus Christ Superstar.” Can we not go one week without mentioning the big J.C.?

8:52: I have nothing to say about this stupid, boring show. Here’s a list of things I’ve done today: finish a container of grapefruit sorbet; spill balsamic vinegar on my flannel; scratch a bug bite on my leg so much it looks like a cat attacked me; secretly listened to Pink’s “Who Knew” on Myspace after my iPod died and I really desperately needed to hear that song; ate five miniature Airheads; the commercial break is here.

8:55: David Cook is singing “Music of the Night.” Andrew Lloyd Weber sssays it’s the mossst ssssssentsstewal tsooong he’s ever written. I just bit half my tongue off.

8:57: Ew, god, and now David is singing earnestly, so earnestly into the camera. As earnest as someone you were assigned to read “Romeo and Juliet” out loud with during ninth grade English, and they keep looking into your eyes and really feeling it, but you’re all trying to get back to your locker without gouging your own eyes out with a mechanical pencil.

9:00: Recap. Andrew Lloyd Weber is a fucking hot piece of ass. I want to die.