American Idol Results: Back to the Flat Bed

Oh, American Idol. How I love you so. This show can turn even the most wretched of experiences positive. Yesterday, I worked a flight from Newark, New Jersey to Vail, Colorado. This is one of the most dreaded flights in the system, because it’s a plane full of coach passengers (and their nannies) who think they’re flying on their own private jet. I hated pretty much all of them. But there was one lady in particular whom I held special contempt for.

When I boarded, I lovingly furnished each passenger seat with a blanket. When she boarded, she stole about ten of them off other people’s seats for her and her brood. She sauntered to the bathroom about three seconds before take-off and was absolutely furious when we asked her to please sit down so she didn’t fall off the toilet and crack her head open. She rang her call light about a thousand times. She asked me for three hundred cups of water. She spent a good ten minutes berating me for the fact that my airline does not offer healthy snacks for her kids. She asked if I could change the movie, because her family has already seen Enchanted (So what? See it again. It’s fucking magical.) When I got to her row with my beverage trolley, she smacked me in the leg, shoved a toy at me and pointed at her kid across the aisle. I could go on.

But about three quarters into this journey through hell in an airborne tube, she came back to the bathroom and overheard me waxing poetic over my sweet, angelic piece of heaven, David Archuletta. She stopped dead in her tracks, one hand on the lavatory door, poked her head into the galley and squealed “Omigod, I love David Archuletta!” And for the remaining hour of the flight, she was my new best friend. American Idol builds a bridge, people.

How many people wanna slap this girl? See? We’re all connected!

So, airplane related Idol anecdote out of the way, I now bring you the results show! This is a big one, cause it determines the Top Ten who get to go on the Idol tour. Chills. Multiplying.

Our Idols stand behind Seacrest like a row of little musical soldiers. “We gave you the songs of the Beatles,” Seacrest tells us. Please, don’t remind me. “You voted. But did you do enough?” he asks accusingly, like it’s our fault or something that Kristy Lee Cook is still – oh, wait it is our fault. My bad.

Seacrest looks like a very stylish undertaker tonight. Paula’s looking extra loopy, bouncing around in her seat like crazy. She looks pretty though. New weave. Simon looks hot, as usual. He’s covered up his chest a bit. I loved the open shirt look, but I’m glad not to have to look at the big blob of orangey red where the tanning bed hurt him. Oh, and Randy’s there too.

And there’s news! Seacrest tells us who some of this year’s mentors are going to be. First up is country legend, Dolly Parton! Who doesn’t love Dolly? Next is superstar, diva and Friend of Randy, Mariah Carey! Lots of people don’t love MC, but I’m not one of them, lambs.

Also, we have Broadway phenomenon, Andrew Lloyd Weber. Eh. I love show tunes as much as the next gal, and gay guy, but not on American Idol, thank you very much. Finally, one of the most successful performers in the history of music, Neil Diamond! I think we saw him during Season One, didn’t we? No matter. Hello, my friend, hello.

This reminds me of a debate I recently had over who the ideal Idol mentors would be. There’s a lot of good options out there, but I personally would love to see Madonna (natch) or Duran Duran. What about you? I’m interested.

Just puttin it out there.

“They’re all great songwriters,” Seacrest informs us, “Are you?” This segues into the Big Announcement of this year’s finale songwriting competition. You submit your song, and America votes. Apparently, this is how This Is My Now was chosen. Who the hell voted for that? Anyway, if your forte is sappy ballads, this is your big chance.

“But who will be singing?” Seacrest wonders. And then, come the finalists, to torture us with one, final Beatles medley before we can finally go back to letting poor John Lennon rest in peace. Archuletta sings first, and I’m sure you know by now, he can do no wrong in my book. Then Castro and David Cook sing together. David Cook has taken to giving the camera that creepy, intense stare patented by uber-cheeseball Constantine Maroulis. I didn’t think it would be possible for an Idol contestant to irritate me more than Constantine did, so congrats David Cook.

This song is called I Love ChickBomb, and it has been playing in my head ever since he sang it.

Then comes Chikeze, who hits some unfortunate notes, but I love him anyway. At this point, I’m not sure the next contestant, Michael Johns, can sing at all, but he’s so hot, I could care less. Finally, all the boys do a chorus together, and then it’s time for the girls.

Brooke kicks off her verse, and then Ramiele joins in. You can’t even hear Ramiele. Why is she still here? Carly sounds great, like always, and Syesha’s verse starts off a bit week, but improves. Kristy Lee sucks, like always, and why does she have to tap that microphone with her fingers every time she picks it up? It’s almost as irritating as that lunge stance she never moves from while she’s singing.

Kristy Lee liked that dress she fashioned from a Hefty bag last night so much, she used the scraps to make a shirt out of it for tonight. And I’m noticing that David Cook isn’t the only one who’s making googly eyes at the camera. They’re all doing it. We close with a verse from Amanda. Same screeching as always, but I love her for doing whatever the hell she wants. Overall, a very lackluster group performance. The Idols are over the Beatles too.

Seacrest tells us that “they treated us to a second dose and really took us on a ride.” A ride to a very bad place where no one with working ears wanted to go. Look, Simon Fuller, we’re all proud of you for having secured the Beatles library, but enough is enough already.

And with the extra week, I’ve had time to realize how creepy it is that Michael Jackson is making so much money off this cute little boy singing Beatles tunes. Gross.

And then, they recap the night before. I didn’t realize this at first, but did you know that David Cook’s version of Day Tripper was ripped off from Whitesnake? No one denies that Whitesnake could actually play, but come on, a Poison cover would have been less embarrassing. Michael Johns ate it, but again, I see nothing past the hotness.

Carly reminds us what a delicate little wounded bird with an already failed record deal she is, and Castro smiles at us with that hokey pokey look that he knows is gonna help him skate through cause the singin’ ain’t much. Syesha was lovely and understated, and I must have that dress, but she’s a little too full of herself for my taste.

Kristy Lee Cook really tortured us last night, and I’m not just talking about the Hefty bag dress with cowboy boots – anyone who’s emulating Britney’s style at this point has problems way bigger than pitch. We flash back to Simon’s comment about how she’s “musical wallpaper” – really, loud, ugly, mismatched wallpaper.

Then we see Brooke and her lame yellow dress – we get it honey, sunshine radiates out your ass, no need to shove it up mine. Then comes Chikeze and his harmonica, which I admit I actually liked! He’s another one I’m prejudiced for, how can you look at that smile and not just love him? Ramiele reminds us that she can’t sing, and that she’s obviously being paid to be a walking advertisement for Wet Seal.

A girl’s gotta make a living.

I admit that Archuletta was a bit of a snooze, but whatever, he’s still my perfect little Mormon angel and I can’t say a bad word about him. His Long and Winding Road certainly wasn’t worthy of the praise the judges heaped upon him, but if the judges want to wet themselves over him, fine by me.

And now, it’s time for the results. Seacrest directs us to view the furniture – there’s a Safe Couch, and Dangerous Stools. Dim the lights, start the music, and here we go!

Brooke is up first, and she looks gorgeous. She admits that she was ridiculously awkward last night, and I see something real about her. I didn’t like the “doo doo doo doo doo”, but I love her smoky voice. And she’s in! Ryan directs her to the Safe Couch, and she sits in the wrong place. Do not deviate from the Idol seating chart, Brooke!

While we’re dealing with the Brooke White Wrong Seat crisis, Carly starts walking toward Ryan to learn her fate. Pretty confidant there, huh little bird. And BAM! Carly’s in the bottom three! What, no tease? And you can tell Carly’s pretty shocked. I don’t necessarily believe she’s going home, but after her ‘poor me’ speech last night, I’m glad she got knocked down a peg.

Who kicked the pigeon?

Ryan wants the judges’ opinion on this shocking turn of events. “What are you thinking?” he asks Paula. She’s wondering where’s that assistant with her blue pills, that’s all. But she covers it up with the assessment that America got it wrong. Simon and Randy agree. My Mom later confirms that America was bothered by her wounded bird comment, and if my Mom says it, then it’s definitely true.

Then comes sweet, angelic Archuletta, and the chickies go wild! He looks nervous. I know what people say. And I don’t care if it’s real or bullshit, I totally buy it. No surprises here, Archuletta’s in the Top 10! Yay!

Next up is Michael Johns. He says he’s worried, but he stands by his song choice, and that makes me like him even more. No regrets, that’s the only way to go. And he’s in! He sinks to his knees with joy.

I owe you oral, America!

We go to commercial, and when we return, Seacrest starts talking about the weekly Ford commercial. This week, we get a special kind of torture, as we’re not only going to view the actual Ford video, but the making of the video. Watching how they do it doesn’t make it any less stupid.

Next up for the moment of truth is David Cook. He struts out, and Seacrest asks him how he reacts to Simon’s comment that he looked smug. “I don’t,” he replies, smugly. I loathe him. Who in America is voting for this jackass? And what will it take to make them stop?

Next up is Kristy Lee Cook, and no one even claps for her. I would feel a little bit sorry for her, but I’m just getting over a really bad ear infection and I’m convinced it was caused by her disastrous jug version of Eight Days A Week. “In hindsight, I think I did pretty good,” she tells Seacrest, but you can tell she knows she’s fooling herself. “I thought it was my strongest performance,” she continues, keeping up the deluded charade. “Well, this night’s gonna be tough on you, you’re in the Bottom Three,” Seacrest informs her. He’s tired of hearing her too.

Next up is Jason Castro. The girls go wild. And that’s why he’s in the Top 10. Again, no surprise. Then comes Ramiele, who joins Seacrest sounding as resigned as Kristy Lee. He grabs her hands, and then informs America that she’s sweating. “Um, thanks,” she tells him. I don’t even like the girl, and I’m a little embarrassed for her. But no denying Ramiele’s a cutie pie with an adorable little personality, so she joins her friends on the Safe Couch. If there’s one thing we’re learning from tonight’s episode of American Idol it’s that being cute gets you far.

And then it’s time for America’s questions. They are predictably insipid. First, Cheryl wants to know why Simon spends money on cars and not clothes. I’m guessing Cheryl’s never ridden in a Rolls Royce, otherwise she wouldn’t be asking such a dumb question. Simon informs her that it’s a rude question, and that unlike other people on this show, he actually doesn’t have an ego. Then he insults Seacrest, which I didn’t really feel was necessary, but it’s all part of the act.

First time I’ve ever rooted for a UFO.

Next up is Jessica from New Jersey, who first tells us she’s a big fan of the show. Imagine that. Choosing a caller who’s a fan of the show. And Jess wants to know if Simon would consider filming a sequel to the kiss scene with Paula? Simon is not at all fazed, and flat out says yes. Paula looks embarrassed, but delighted. No kidding, sister. Simon says that Paula is actually a very good kisser. Seacrest looks more embarrassed than Paula.

The next question comes from Mary in Los Angeles, and it’s a doozy. Ramiele, what was the last song you downloaded on your iPod? Who cares? I know we need filler, but I’d rather see another Ford commercial than listen to this drivel. But if anyone gives a crap, it was R. Kelly’s I’m A Flirt. And a pedophile, but who’s counting.

Finally, Linda from who knows where wants to know if Michael John’s Idol experience has been everything he thought it would be? Gripping. Linda, have you considered a career in journalism? You really know how to ask the hard-hitting questions. And of course, yes, it’s been everything he thought it would be and more. Especially more stressful, because, “Apparently, I peaked in Hollywood”, he informs us dryly. Adorable and self-deprecating, could I love him more? Oh yeah, well I guess I could love him a little more if he could, you know, sing a little better.

Oops, out of time for calls. Bummer. But American Idol is very happy to welcome a contestant from Season Five who stole our hearts…it’s The Pickler! Haven’t seen her in a while, so I forgot the thing I most remember about her, and that’s that this girl has the cutest ass I’ve ever seen on another girl. Even I want to grab it. So, she has an album out, she’s gone to entertain the troops in Iraq, her life’s the same, she just has a better job. I’m not really into the country music scene, but according to my friend Tripper who lives in Nashville, The Pickler’s made a nice little career for herself. You can’t help but like her, so I say good for her.

Please welcome the Pickle and her new boobs. Work it, girls!

She sashays on stage to sing a song called Red High Heels. She’s working Posh’s bob haircut. It’s cute. Her voice sounds a bit cartoonish. Did it always sound like that? All I can recall is the ass.

Now just cause I’m not big into country music doesn’t mean I don’t like it, but this song’s nothing with nothing. The most entertaining part of The Pickler’s performance is when she sings to Simon. He smiles politely, but the moment she moves away he arranges his face back to bored. Got to hold it for that extra second there, doll, sometimes the cameraman’s a little slow.

And while we’re on the topic of past Idols, it’s time to check in with Fantasia and Elliot Yamin, who went on a mission to deliver mosquito nets to Africa. Yay for do-gooding, but this part’s a bit dull. Until Elliot goes to a hospital and they name a baby after him. Oh, that is kind of sweet. Elliot is moved, and there’s a lot of tears. I assume it’s all to remind us about Idol Gives Back, but then Seacrest pops back in to tell us that the thing was sponsored by Exxon Mobil. So, actually, it was just another opportunity for corporate prostitution. Nice.

He like your teeth, Elliot.

And now back to the results! There’s still one Danger Stool open. Is it for Syesha? Despite her ugly white vest, no, it is not. So we’re down to Amanda and Chikeze. I don’t like these choices! They couldn’t be more opposite, Smiley Chikeze and F-You Amanda, but I like both of ‘em.

Chikeze looks panicked, and Amanda looks bored. So who’s safe? It’s Chikeze! His mama goes wild in the audience! Seacrest reminds us that everyone on the Safe Couch gets to go on tour, and Amanda heads over to the last Danger Stool.

We go to a break, and when we return Seacrest reminds us that bottom three are in agony. After an hour of this, they’re not the only ones, babe. And after the nationwide vote, the first person who gets pardoned is poor, wounded birdlike Carly. All three girls hug, and she heads over to the Safe Couch to learn a little bit about (false?) humility from Archuletta and Brooke.

We’re down to Kristy Lee and Amanda. Got to be Kristy Lee, right? Wrong. It’s Amanda! NOOOOOOOOO!!! First of all, I liked Amanda. She wasn’t our American Idol, but she was different and fun and she rocked. Second of all, I can not stand Kristy Lee Cook. Nothing personal, she seems like a nice girl and all, but she can’t sing, she can’t dress, and she’s done a very bad thing in sacrificing her horse in order to make America suffer through her singing. It’s just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

So, farewell, rockin’ Amanda. Seacrest calls her “fearless” while she stands there looking uncomfortable. She never really fit in, but that’s what I loved about her. We watch her Idol journey, while Ruben sings the tuneless Celebrate Me Home. Would it kill someone to write this guy a song with an actual melody? I love Ruben, but he needs a song with a hook.

It’s been a fun ride, Amanda tells us. It seems the biggest moment for her was meeting the lead singer of REO Speedwagon, which was both confusing and sad. How did that guy even get close to Idol? Perhaps he too is a Friend of Randy.

Amanda tells us she’s bummed to not be going out on tour – I am too. That tour needs her. Who else is going to get wasted trash hotel rooms? Kristy Lee’s a dime a dozen bore snore, and I have no clue how she even made it this far.

So, this is our Top Ten! I suppose I can’t love all of them, but I really would have liked to see Amanda stick around. I blame everyone in America, except myself, of course, cause I voted for Archuletta.

Kisses, and Happy Idoling! CB

Come here, Fetus! I just want a hug!