And the Rest of Them! And Some Doubles! I Think I Screwed This Up!

Hello, all, Gina here. I went a little crazy last night and wound up doing more of these than I should. How lucky for you!

Catherine McPhee attempts to raise my ire when she makes a speech concerning the ousting of Crystal Stark, but manages to not be as transparent as Derrell and barely manages to not get on my nerves. Then she does this bit of business with her knuckles and quite frankly, I found it a little adorable. I don’t know, maybe I’m going soft in my old age. I’m glad to see her through. I also enjoyed Simon’s lecherous smirk before the big smooch because it fits in with vision of him and I love to have my opinions validated. I’m immature like that.

Next up is Ace, and gee, I wonder if he’ll make it. You know, I think I might have finally figured out the reason for my intense dislike and I think it’s that he looks like my old friend’s brother and I keep on thinking that there’s something just not right with him. It’s like, Hey, you should be stoned. And why aren’t you wearing tie dye? When did you start being such a douche? He’s not the kind of guy who’s gonna laugh when you make hippie jokes about him or buy you cigarettes when you’re sixteen. Or it’s his hair, his horrible David Hasselhoff on Rogaine follicle nightmare. Or his distressed, only in the front, mind you, jeans with back pocket bandanna accessory. Perhaps it is a combination of all three. That’s most likely. Oh, oh, and his necklace. That, too.

And first up to lose their dignity is Eugena. I didn’t catch her last name, but I will forever remember her as a bitter crybaby thanks to the magic of television. It’s not that I don’t understand how completely emotional this whole ordeal is, but let’s act like professionals and remember that millions of people will be watching this shit. A little self respect goes a long way, ladies and gentleman.

Next up is Robert, whom I would like to make it based solely on his resemblance to the Mexican Drug Lord in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Then I see him jumping up and down and clutching at his mouth and I amend that to a gayversion of the Mexican drug lord in GTA. Nothing wrong with that. He’ll probably wind up getting on my nerves, but for now, I like him.

Then we are back with Eugena, who is giving away pieces of her soul to the camera free of charge. Don’t these people realize that emotional meltdowns only make the producers cry tears of elation?

Gideon is up next and is a bit too big for his britches. I agree fully with Simon’s “If he’d have given that speech before I wouldn’t have put him through”. I hate to see arrogance rewarded. Gideon has given the middle finger to karma, and we shall see if karma doesn’t get her revenge. (See Brittenum Twins)

Next up is Lisa Tucker, and I like how they pretend like there is any suspense to be had over whether or not she will make it through. We meet her beautiful mother, who seems to care, but not too much, and is displaying proper humility. Of course, Lisa makes it and is adorable. This could get on my nerves later, but for now, she’s alright by me. Her mom, however, rules.

Next up is the very pretty Stevie Scott who is doing herself no favors with a too dark lipstick and unfortunate orange top. There is almost nothing that makes me more sad than to see pretty young ladies who unknowingly fug the hell out of themselves. My life is very, very, empty. I can’t wait for the stylists to get a hold of some of these people.

Speaking of that very thing, next up is Chris Daughtry who has forsaken the chinstrap in exchange for some sort of tribal swirling sideburns. Both are annoying, but Jesus H…give me the chinstrap. I mean, they are barely wisps of a sideburn. Dear God, someone tell him to just fucking shave it off and be done with it. I want to like him, but he’s…he needs to shave. I’m having quite a hard time taking him seriously.

Here’s Ayla Brown, Super-achiever. These people run one of two ways, either they are insufferable, smug, narcissistic, assholes or, conversely, they are too busy being successful to crow about it and are the nicest, most thoughtful people you can meet. I’m reserving judgment on Ayla. I’m leaning nice, but it’s early and her dad’s a Senator.

And here’s Amanda Avila…no, wait, I mean Becky O’Donahue. No surprise that she makes it through. I kind of like her voice. We’ll see. There wasn’t too much to make fun of, so that bodes well for her. Or means she’s boring.

Now we wait on hooks and tenders to see whether the next finalist will be April Walsh, who maybe, not to hate, cos I’m no looker, but yeah…April is the definition of a nice personality, and I feel her there, but anyway, will it be April or the thin, blonde, pretty, Heather Cox? Oh, wow, it’s Heather! That certainly goes against everything I’ve ever thought about American Idol. If it’s any consolation, April, you were probably too good and they were scared that you might last a bit longer than they’d like.

Bucky Covington has two things going for him. For one, his name, given or otherwise, is Bucky. Secondly, he looks like a metal head stoner who maybe dabbles in crystal meth every once in awhile. I enjoy that in a televised singing competition. Unfortunately, there is twang on top of twang when he sings…and…no thanks, Bucky. I’m sorry.

Patrick Hall proves how much he doesn’t care about Ace by interviewing that, “He deserves to be here, even though he’s not a pretty boy like Ace”. Way to mask the old insecurities, there, buddy. He does indeed go through, and will continue to not care about Ace.

Bye, bye Michael Covington!

Ummm, Paris, darling, I wouldn’t be nervous if I were you. But it’s adorable that you are. I like her.

Wah-ha! The editor’s must have sacrificed a virgin to receive the Saga of the Brittenum twins. I still don’t know if they pulled this Dodge Magnum shit before they auditioned, but if they didn’t they are truly too stupid to live. I mean it. I know it’s harsh, but seriously, just put them away for the rest of their lives because you don’t deserve any more chances if you are going to blow it like that.

And hello, Kellie Pickler. Let’s see…Jesus comment, check. Southern accent, check. Crying, check. I don’t think that things are going to work out between you and me.

Even though Taylor Hicks dorks out in the weirdest way imaginable after the good news, I still like him. Mostly because of the way he conducts himself like a one man band, while performing. He is one of those guys who could wear a harmonica attachment on his guitar and not look like a tool. That’s pretty darn commendable.

Okay, now let’s take a minute to acknowledge how much Wil Makar looks like Fred Savage. Like, if Fred Savage were less hobbit, more elf. So I guess like a Fred Savage/Adam Brody test tube baby. I want him to move on, and yes, it is due to my fond memories of Kevin Arnold. No, I wasn’t raised by a television. What would give you that impression?

So that’s that and this grueling process of finding a top twelve is finally almost over. Can you believe they drag this shit out for 2 months? My God.