So I'm alone in my 12-degree apartment, which is dark save the bluish light emanating from my 32" TV (which I got for free, no big deal). My roommate has left for spring break, my ex-boyfriend is texting me from New Orleans about how totally badass the JT concert is (and about how he'll never love me again, no matter how many Omaha Steaks I have shipped to his house), I'm all out of scotch, and now, to top it all off, I have to sit through an hour of American Idol Manufactured Bullshit. But lo! Both life and American Idol were chock full of surprises this evening, and, as it turned out, I was hardly the only person in the room (if we're counting the people on TV as being in the room, which I obviously am, because I am a sad, lonely spinster woman) crying. Also I wasn't really crying. I was smiling. Because somehow, 32 million people have conspired to make a mockery of American Idol. But I'll get to that later, right after I finish starting all my sentences with conjunctions.

Our 20 favorite songsters started the hour off wrong with a resplendent rendition of "Joy to the World." Last week they started off with a Tears for Fears song, and everybody ended up crying this week, so I can only assume that next week there will either be a flood of clear water or a church revival, or both. It was, as anticipated, unremarkable except that A.J. sang the lyric "You know I love the ladies," which is uproariously ironic because he is easily the gayest guy in that 20-person high school show choir. And then Antonella sucked at singing, and I was counting the minutes until I never had to deal with her pretty, "family landscaping business" ass again.



Perhaps they had them last week and I just didn't notice, but tonight they've decided to employ some dramatic, bluish, copied-from-Who Wants to Be a Millionaire mood lighting when they announce eliminations, which makes Blake look remarkably like Robin Williams. Which kind of unnerves me.


Nick Pedro is going home, which is fine. He sings "Fever" one more time, and I'm sure his elimination was due to the fact that he's neither young, nor bald, nor unibrowed, nor fat, nor sweaty enough to be memorable. If you'll recall, he left Hollywood last year because he couldn't bring himself to remember the words to "Build Me Up Buttercup," and tonight he apparently has the same problem with The Last Fucking Song He Will Ever Sing On National Television. Get a hold of yourself, you sexy-voiced amnesiac.



Of the girls, it is Alaina Alexander who leaves us first. Predictably, she is crying too hard to sing her stupid Dixie Chicks song, so she calls the rest of the girls onstage for a massive group hug/cry-a-thon. Inexplicably, Sundance was also crying really hard from his perch on the balcony. Or maybe his sweat has just discovered a way to seep out of his tear ducts.




Seacrest takes a moment to promote the Idol Challenge, and just to prove that it's not all a big giant lie of a fake contest, he points out last week's winner, one Sean Jones of Wisconsin, who is in the audience. Sean Jones is fat, old, gray-haired, wears glasses, and has bad teeth, and should either be euthanized or given an Extreme Makeover. Or merely not visually broadcast to the entire nation.



In what I assumed would be a break from the Sobfest, Kelly Pickler performed some stupid country song she co-wrote. Judging from her appearance and the banter she and Seacrest exchanged before she sang, I'm assuming that she was appearing on Idol tonight as Reese Witherspoon playing June Carter in Walk the Line, who is dressed up as Xtina-during-her-Marilyn-Monroe-phase for Halloween, who is in turn dressed as Kimber from Nip/Tuck. By the end of her song, Ms. Pickler was almost in tears, which surprised me more than it probably should have, although I still don't understand why she was crying. Ah yes, I forgot: The Curse of Tears for Fears.








When eliminations came down to two boys, A.J. the Gay and Sanjaya the Long-Haired Hippie Person were left trembling on the brink of disappointment. I was sure, as I'm sure were the judges and everyone else in the room, that Sanjaya was out of there. However, it was A.J. and his diminutive height who were sent a-packin', and no one was pleased. Even Sanjaya looked like he felt kind of bad about it, but that little Indian garners a whole shit ton of teen votes, and the judges made remarks about how people should vote for the singing and not because someone is close to your same age. Then A.J. sang his farewell of "Feelin' Good," and he sang it awesomely, as if to prove to America that he is way, way, WAY more appropriate for this competition than Sanjaya and his Michael-Jackson-circa-1984 costume choices. To be fair, I've never liked A.J., but that's just because I'm prejudiced against gays and short people. Oh, also, of course, all the girls and Sundance were crying as he said his good-byes.



We get to the girls' elimination, and Gina already has her stupid-"rocker"-haircut-covered head in her hands, weeping, for she knows that one of her new BFFs must depart for anonymity. Seacrest calls Antonella, Leslie, and Jordin up to the stage, and it's obvious that Jordin's not going home, because she's the shiznit, but still Gina must weep prematurely. Seacrest recounts for all 32 million of us the judges' negative comments about Antonella's awful performance last night, and immediately afterwards pronounces her safe. Antonella gloats.

I scream, "NO FUCKIN' WAY!" into the cavernous loneliness of my empty apartment. The audience reacts similarly. Gina's tear production quadruples. Obviously, because Jordin is the cutest and most wonderful person of all time, Leslie has to go. I found her to be simultaneously boring and visually offensive, so I'm happy about this, but in all fairness, Antonella is the worst singer of all time, so I feel bad for her. Coincidentally, she also sang "Feelin' Good" this week, so she gets to sing that and be all, "Check this shit, America! I can actually sing! Like, songs, and stuff! All Antonella can do is look pretty!" and America's all, "Yeah, Ginger. We know."



This episode had more twists than The Sixth Sense and The Shawshank Redemption combined… which equals one and a half, and this episode had two, so my math is correct. The judges seemed all pissed because America is playing a giant prank on the show by keeping Sanjaya and Antonella around, and I am happy because now I have so much more hating to do. Buenos noches, bitches.