I'm just not buying Ryan's excitement anymore. Right around this time every year, we both seem to get very tired. I know in like two weeks he's going to be all, "This...is American Idol," and I'll be like, "But is it, really?"
The Idols run out on stage to sing "9 To 5." Ramiele cannot muster up any amount of care -- just like the last several Tuesdays, everybody does dumb dances, Michael can't remember the words, Cook can't stop mugging for anything, Jason's empty creepy grin is all over his face, Syesha's voice is still awesome and boring, Archuleta sounds crappy and looks weird, Carly is totally gross rolling around on the judges' table, Michael makes fucking horrible faces, Paula is wearing some hideous rusty-orange bondage country shirt where the skin sticks out, and Chikezie is in the audience is how sad it is. This really is American Idol.
Last night, Jason Castro was a travellin' tranny, David Cook was annoyingly awesome, KLC dressed up in a pretty dress, Ramiele wanted the fuck out of here, Brooke bounced and jerked and spazzed out on the usually excellent song "Jolene," Syesha was boring enough and jerky enough to actually sing "I Will Always Love You," Carly wasn't that bad unless you looked at the screen, Archuleta loves poor people or whatever, Michael augmented his obnoxiousness with a literal cravat, and the judges didn't know what the eff they were talking about. Dolly thinks the kids are nice. I think Dolly's nice so I'm going to try harder to be nice.
Michael is summoned to Ryan's side, having stopped making those bullshit faces for a second. Randy said he was blazin' hot, and Simon rightly thought it was the best he's ever sounded. Michael agrees that he was awesome, because that's how he rolls. Michael is safe, except from my judgment.
On his way to the stage, David Archuleta starts crying like immediately, probably because somebody littered somewhere on Earth. He then is able to verbalize that he is crying about the following things in the following order: poor people, Dolly Parton's awesomeness, and being safe.
Carly's face comes lumbering out onstage and they talk about how severely she lacks star quality, how awful her tattoos are, how unappealing she is every day, and how her husband totally sold out the Jedi when he became Darth Sidious's apprentice and whatever, and Ryan's like, "You know how you're in the bottom three every week?" And Carly's safe and all, "I know I can be a silk purse if I just dream harder!"