What happened: last week Ryan and Paula looked each other in the eyes and they both said, "I wish you knew what it was like to be me!" and there was a loud BOOM! So now Paula is cool and professional and makes at least two intelligent comments, while Ryan does most of his work from the laps of various dudes, including: Clay Aiken, Anthony Fedorov, the memory of Anwar, and some guy in the audience. It's bizarre. Also bizarre, though, is how they all sound like crap. What an unenjoyable evening. The theme is -- get this -- "the last five years." Not a thing!
There's a "Carrie's town has one stoplight" segment, and it's adorable, and her mom loses it talking about how great Carrie is, and then I lose it with how terrible Carrie is. She sings Martina McBride's "When God Fearin' Women Get the Blues," and, like, I am none of those things, but I can get the blues too, and you just gave them to me. It's awful, and then she coughs kind of pointedly, like she needs to worry, but it sounds kind of gross and real. Randy enjoyed the other musicians, Paula backhands her with how it's great she has so many fans, and Simon tells her none of this matters. Ryan asks if she's at least attempting to learn the lyrics of her songs these days, and they both giggle like dorks because she already knew this one. I like her with Ryan. The blondening of them.
"The man who wouldn't make the choice," okay, is wearing a stupid dashiki and sunglasses and looks like a Halloween "hippie" costume, which is essentially what Bo is, but whatever, I'm ready to love it, because he's awesome. Then the pre-song is all about how he's got this realistical real reality that surpasses normal reality in a really real way. And I agree, insofar as he wouldn't know the difference, and that's what I can't stand about Bo. Disingenuously to the fucking extreme, he'll be singing Gavin DeGraw's "I Don't Want to Be," and what he doesn't want to be? Is anything other than what he's been trying to be lately. Barf. But the real problem is how bad he sucks tonight. It's his worst ever, and one of the worst non-Constantine songs in the last six weeks. I'm not hating, and I'm not happy about it, but it's honestly that bad. His voice is shot, he's off-key, he duffs the last note crazy bad. The judges "love" the "coincidental" song "choice."
Tonight is not going well. Vonzell's package is adorable -- Daddy, karate, Daddy, cute, Daddy, mail truck -- but we note that her cuteness is genetic: her whole family is like that. She sings the Christina Aguilera song "I Turn to You," andâ¦I love her, you guys, but damn. This is turning into a bloodbath. Like, I don't even want to watch it again to tell you exactly why. One part just before the ending is pretty good, although there are some fucked-up faces, and she dedicates the song to Daddy. Getting over that, actually. Randy welcomes her to the Dawg Pound because he wants an all-white Final Five even less than I, and Paula notes that America is falling in love with her. Still. Simon has a "horrible" feeling that Randy and Paula are totally wrong, and he's right, and Ryan tells her she's awesome, and he's right too.
A-Fed's parents cannot, like, handle how great he is, to the point where even the sensitive finger-picked guitar score gets bored. He'll be singing "I Surrender," by Celine Dion, and he will be rocking it, even though it's the most boring song in the universe, and I don't remember ever having heard it, even though I just heard it not five minutes ago, but he's great. It's not a chick song, when he sings it, just a song, and awesome. And yeah, everything is relative, and everybody else is sucking, but still, he does that thing I've been talking about. Randy and Paula give him unabashed praise, Simon hyperfocuses on the awful song, and Ryan hyperfocuses on A-Fed's bod.
Ready to meet Constantine's family? Let's. Are they totally creepy? Why, yes. Does all of this make more sense now? Absolutely. Was he cute once? Wicked hot, actually. Will he be great tonight? Not at all. Not at all. He'll be singing Nickelback's "How You Remind Me," and even he will not enjoy it. His staging, his vocals, his karate kicks, all are lazy. This song sucks, and he's making it worse by singing it. Does he have the flu? He makes the 2Cats sound again, even. It's like we're in a time machine. All the goodwill he's built up is gone. Gone! The hate is back. With disinterest. Randy points out the sucky voice; Paula allows as how the performance and song and vocals were for shit, but feels that that is really cool; and Simon calls it a "bad imitation," and yeah, that's what me and Randy think too.
Scott's home life is going to be depressing, I think. I have no idea what his parents are saying, just like I have no idea what he is saying. They thought he would end up a priest, which was dumb of them. He feels he represents people who "get up in the morning." Thanks? Then he insults Cleveland on a massive scale: "You'd see a million of me walking around." I want you to close your eyes for a second and imagine that, please. And then understand that Cleveland is not like that at all.
Scott looks very nice tonight, and he sings Luther Vandross's "Dance With My Father," which leads to a whole host of confusion, because his dad hates him, but there's also a stepfather, or he wants to dance with his beautiful child (the kid is gorgeous, y'all), or I don't know what. I don't care for this song, and his voice is better than it has been, but that makes the bad bits stick out more. I couldn't care less about this. Randy calls it his "weakest performance in weeks," Paula calls it unemotional, and Simon tells him to pack his suitcase. I don't want to jinx myself by offering him anything other than total support, but I will say that I had a feeling about Nadia, if you'll recall, and the same feeling about Anwar, and I was right, and that's the feeling I'm having now. Fingers crossed.
âSongs of the New Milleniumâ is a much better title for a stupid phony theme than âThe Last Five Years,â even if it doesnât improve the concept. Last night, Constantine did not give his all, while Bo gave us a heaping helping of nothing special. The judges loved Bo and hated Constantine, who additionally may have become a Sith or whatever. Carrie kind of sucked, Vonzell did half of a really great job, and A-Fed was weirdly compelling. Scott was bad and gave us feelings, but Simon jinxed it. Thatâs my story.
Group sing: âEmotions,â Carrie and Bo mostly taking the lead, except for a lovely and terribly off-key set of runs and ranging around that made me sure Vonzell would be going home. Also, Scott rubs our faces in our future with some bullshit fucked-up falsetto. Why canât these kids sing with each other? Whatâs the problem? Then thereâs the dorkiest but also best pimpomercial ever, with A-Fed Eurovisioning it up around a house in different costumes. Itâs weird.
Tonightâs loser got 35 million votes in the seasonâs entirety. Thatâs a lot of dialing, yâall. Vonzell is our Number One Goat because even though she made Randy feel proud and Paula magical, Simonâs right. Similarly, Carrie is the obvious first Sheep, even though she made Randy feel âoffâ and made Paula feel: nothing. You know what I feel? Unsurprised by this whole paragraph. Bo was a âtrue rock starâ and âincredible,â and A-Fed was âimpressive and âdid his best job yet,â and Simon opted out basically on both, and you know where they go. This is so non-suspenseful. â¦For now! Scott and Constantine are left on the couch for the break. Man. Thatâs like my least favorite couch ever. I want to beat it up!
Scott and Constantine get fake Huffed, and itâs radically revealing of stuff we already know: Constantine joins the Sheep, but is dorky and self-conscious about it, Scott lumbers over to the Sheep with his cosmic-sized entitlement in hand, and Vonzell and Anthony bust out, because this sucks for them hilariously. And because they are cool. Everybody in America laughs because Scott is stupid and deluded and they want to see his brains extruded. Carrie doesnât know what the hell to do with her face, because she canât be happy right now, but everybodyâs laughing, so itâs confusing.
Ryan leads the group to make fun of Scott for being retarded and discarded, but itâs a fast one indeed that he is pulling, because Constantineâs mistaken, and is in reality a Goat. He gives the hair quite a workout as he makes his way over across, and his co-Goats continue to giggle about the rich pageantry of it all. Say what you like, but I canât imagine either of them doing a pathetic stunt-bitch about this show later. You know? Eliminate them -- or even Carrie, in the world of make-believe -- and theyâd be like, âWhat a fun time I have had in LA. I will bring home t-shirts for my family.â The end. None of this half-naked Jim Verraros makeover hissing and spitting.
Carrie now looks like somebody killed her dog and then dumped her and then burned her copy of Dirty Dancing, all on her birthday. She will look this way for the remainder: lost and confused and bummed and quiet and hurt. Randy doesnât know why the hell this is happening, Ryan spells the word âwowâ for us, and then Simon mentions something interesting: Scottâs getting 6-8 million votes a night, and thatâs good enough to keep him in. This week, he did better than three other people, and that freaks me out. The top three all have fan bases that would vote insanely for them if they went up there and sang Pootie Tangâs smash hit single, â_____,â and I thought Constantine had that same fan base, but not so much. But like, Scott does, though. You know?
Vonzellâs safe, so itâs Constantine and A-Fed on the Seal. They both look freaked, and Iâm sad, because I hate Constantine and little A-Fed, I donât know why the hell heâs here, but Iâm sad heâs clearly leaving. But then, you see, suddenly heâs not, and Constantine has been eliminated.
Everyone is freaked out. Like, Boâs band is freaked out. Paula ages, seriously, eight years in the moment this occurs. She blabbers, and not the usual, but an honestly shocked and freaked out and hurt kind. Heâs pretty gracious about it, as I expected. Although his Video Journey is a point-by-point mnemonic device for why this turn of events should be celebrated, Iâm notâ¦happy. I am not anything. I am shocked. Itâs like whoa.
Paulaâs in total meltdown, the Idols keep noticing the cameras catching their total freak out and trying to get it together, and then Ryan steps all over the beginning of the singout, because of how the song works. Carrie sings along with him like a little kid and itâs sad, and Scott is just openly laughing about his good fucking fortune. This song still sucks, but then we have a problem, because in the audience, Paula has climbed up on the table and is yelling encouragement and support at his mom, and the two do that thing with the foreheads touching and tears everywhere, and like, thatâs his mom, you know?
Itâs all very dramatic and you know what itâs like, itâs like when Kelly won, the first year, and it was mind-blowing and a large-scale occurrence and the glitter and the tickertape and the lights going crazy and everybody going crazy and you cried because some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this? Only this is the complete inverse. Itâs not the fact that heâll be gone, Iâm fine with that. Itâs the event of his leaving. History does not record my reaction to this event, dear reader. But it is not at all what I expected.
Ryan's wearing a light gray jacket, but it's not noticeable. Ryan's not really noticeable tonight, somehow. That takes a lot, frankly, and I'm glad the stylists are working on it, because God forbid his star quality overshadow the likes of Carrie Underwood and Scott Fucking Savol. He makes a weird proto-"Call Me" and then there's Heather Locklear all of a sudden.
If you don't know the story of Heather Locklear, you must be very young. In a nutshell: On the seventh day, Aaron Spelling took the night off, and then on the eighth day he suddenly wasn't God anymore, so he created Heather Locklear, and on the ninth day, lo but there was a crazy amount of Nielsens happening, and lather rinse repeat for seven decades of TV magic. Heather Locklear is the first through fifteenth comings of TV salvation and she deserves it every time, because forsooth, she is rockin' awesome and smokin' hot. Still!
I've seen every episode of LAX like twice and let me tell you that she's hotter than the hot British guy, hotter than Blair Underwood, hotter than the brunette Alicia Silverstone girl they've got; she's hotter than anything on this planet or off, and she's at this point technically thousands of years old as humans measure time, and she manages to become hotter every year. There is not a situation in this world that cannot be improved by the judicious application of Heather Locklear. I want a "WWHLD" bracelet. Well, actually what I really want is a "WWAWD" bracelet, because if Heather Locklear is the best humanity can do, then Amanda Woodward is the best that Heather Locklear can do, and that's…pretty much better than best.
Can you tell I don't want to talk about this week's Idol episodes? I had to face some troubling shit about myself this week. And it was Idol-related. Think about that, please. Stare into that abyss with me for a sec.
So let's go. Beauty in the breakdown, et cetera. Ryan cracks a joke about how Anwar has been eliminated, buttoned up his shirt, and now teaches little children to do "ten-minute high notes in impossibly tight pants." Which, wrong juxtaposition, Mr. Creepy, but yeah, that's what I remember too. I just hope they don't all end up singing all nasally up their nasal, like a generation of it, because that's kind of Tomorrow People to have to deal with. Also, Randy is wearing some very flattering pink and Paula is wearing some very comedic leopard and the judges all dap each other and it's quite realistic and street.
Fake time travel back to fake Wednesday, where Ryan points out there are only two "girls" left, and then everybody claps and everybody seems like a creepy robot, and then Ryan forces A-Fed to assume his masculine Idol power in a very, um, "respect the cruller, tame the doughnut" kind of way, and then asks some of the less interesting Idols what they were up to on New Year's, '00. To which the answer is clearly going to be, "Being born," with the exception of Bo, who has to say, "Finally letting go of the whole Mondale thing," because he's crazy old, okay, and Scott and Constantine both make arraignment faces, but then A-Fed goes all, "What happens in Pennsylvania stays in Pennsylvania," like that's this amazingly filthy turn of phrase, because he was fourteen and things got crazy on the millennium for him. And that's sad and funny in so many ways that I don't want to spoil it for anybody, but I will make a list, which includes some concepts: Anthony Fedorov, at the age of fourteen, getting wild, in Pennsylvania. And you can draw your own totally scandalous conclusions, but you and I both know they involved table tennis in somebody's basement, utterly insane amounts of Yoo-Hoo, and five and a half minutes in heaven with the exchange student from, like, Guam.