It Hardly Matters

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

I'm Baaaaack...for American Idol

8:15. So this year, for the first time, there was something happening in my life more compelling than American Idol: my grad thesis. (As I type that, I shed a tear for that pathetic truth--but truth, no matter how pathetic, is the way I'm trying to roll these days.) I missed almost all of AI after February in order to work on my thesis, which now that it's handed in, I kind of feel like was a bigger waste of time than watching American Idol religiously. But I digress.

I'm home tonight, watching the Two Davids duke it out. And oh, that opening number cheesefest! And the live feeds from the Davids' respective hometowns featuring former contestants Mikalah Gordon and Matt Used-to-Be-a-Marine are making me think about how insane it is that reality TV has given these people some semblance of careers.

Let me break the live-blogging to say that I love David Archuleta and have since the first time I heard him. I feel like he's this little conduit to purity, which is rare in reality television and in actual reality.

This Mike Meyers racist promo is making me choke on my navratan korma. No shit, I am eating it right now.

OK, I thought that Seal was Chikezie. Now I'm officially on Chikezie watch. Side note: Syesha is as compelling as a Jasmine Trias. From your reaction I can tell that I am right.

8:30. Only 90 minutes left!

YES. Castro doing Buckley. Watching him in the opening number--singing "Get Ready" while enthusiastically snapping his fingers--was downright painful.

More blatant promos. How delightful. I love that people are clapping for two strangers getting free cars.

Look how multiracial the girls are this year! It's like a United Colors of Barbie pitch meeting at Mattel. Speaking of the girls, my favorite is the skunk-haired nurse, even though she just butchered Donna Summer beyond recognition. Oh SNAP! Queen Donna herself!! OK, now I'm happy. BRB after the Queen brings it.

I lied. Let's talk about blingy microphones. And by "let's talk about" I mean "I love."

8:34. Paula's boobies! Donna's last note!

8:40. Carly Smithson & Michael Johns singing this cornball arrangement of "The Letter" is basically the producers going: hey if you don't like either David, these two could be valid singing stars, and they happen to look cute together, too. Another From Justin to Kelly, anyone?

Finally. Chikezie. Wait, I forgot about that stripper guy! YES CHIKIE BABY. Souling up some Bryan Adams. Why are D&D dressed alike? Damn, they're making Cook sing the song that started Archuleta fever. Rude. No, Lord, please, why the actual Bryan Adams? He looks like one of my high school boyfriends mixed with Doug Savant and a little meth, and sounds like the lovechild of Castro & skunk-haired nurse. Of course Bob Ice is digging it. (Update: dinner finished. On beer #2. It's a special occasion.)

8:54. I love that Jordin Sparks/Chris Brown song that's all over the radio, "No Air." Good for Jordin and her Lane Byrant spokesmodel self. I'm so happy that "they" haven't starved her and stuffed her into inappropriately tight clothing like they did to Kelly Clarkson.

ZZ Top is awesome and I'm not just saying that because I played a ZZ Top tribute show at the Annex back in October and won the "Best Legs" contest. Really. God, this song dragging on forever. I'll take this opportunity to speculate on who will come out to sing with Archuleta. Stevie Wonder? Sean Lennon? Smokey Robinson? Maybe Kelly Clarkson.

9:00. Brooke White and Graham Nash. Nap time.

9:06. Who the hell are these people? The Jonas Brothers? I think this where I draw the line, I mean I like to know what the kids are listening to but these dudes and Miley Cyrus can kiss my old, withered ass. Chill, tambourine child, chill! See Pat? That's me.

9:12. My ears are bleeding from this kid in the cape. I feel badly for the USC band for having to back him...and....he's been cut off for a commercial. Perfect.

9:18. God this whole being old/writing a thesis thing is still inhibiting my enjoyment of this program as I listen to something called One Republic, something I have never heard of. Thank the angels they've dragged Archuleta out. A word keeps repeating itself in my brain: Coldplay...Coldplay.

9:23. Here comes darling Jordin, cute and wearing a golden dress, like a mix of Beyonce and Jennifer Hudson going to the middle school Winter Carnival dance. Another problem in addition to the dress: her song sucks. BRING OUT CHRIS BROWN NOW. Boooo...commercial. A Coldplay commercial!

9:32. Why am I laughing at this stupid Pips thing? I blame Jack Black.

Here comes the Goddess Carrie. True glamour and class. She is THE Hotness. It's a shame I can't listen to her annoying gnu-country songs. But she is the real deal--she even has the Whitney microphone hand slap move down. Question: Does she kind of look like the hottest marketing manager/manta ray ever in that outfit, or is it just me? Another question: Does she ever blink? I wonder how Bob Ice is feeling right now.

9:41. Did I just see David Archuleta in his underpants?

Here come the Top 12 doing a George Michael medley. That might be the gayest sentence ever written. More Skunk Nurse and more Chikezie!!! So thrilled, so happy. Holy Hell, GM has arrived from the heavens like Frankie Avalon in the "Beauty School Dropout" number in the Grease movie, except dressed in black, not white, and wearing some $10 H&M women's sunglasses. His voice is sounding a leetle shaky, friends.

Who is singing with Archuleta??? Did I miss something? Did he and Aretha trade fours on "Think" while I was stirring my curry?

9:56. Come ON, already! Losing stamina/interest/brain cells.

9:59. OH SHIT. No way. Cook, really?? This is total crap. See what happens when I don't vote?

OK, now I'm off to cry myself to sleep.

Until next year!