Don’t look directly into the Paula.
If you tuned in to Thursday night’s episode of The X Factor, you not only got to see the conclusion of boot camp week in Los Angeles, you also got a hefty reminder that we live in a world where Paula Abdul is still relevant for some ridiculous reason. Seriously, by all rights she should be stuck doing crappy giant crocodile movies with Tiffany and Debbie Gibson, not starring on a string of fairly successful reality television programs.
But as most of us learned at an early age, life ain’t fair. We’re never gonna win the fucking lottery no matter how many tickets we buy, those last ten pounds will NEVER go away, and vaguely talented but mentally unstable ‘celebrities’ will always find a way to make a buck off of the fascination of the masses. CoughcoughCharlieSheencough.
Anywhoo, Thursday’s episode starts off with a quick reminder of the previous evening, which featured the final 162 acts being forced to endure some sort of hideous group dance-a-thon.
It’s Soul Train, – soul, + 127 left feet.
I really don’t understand why they put the contestants through this goofy choreography lesson, since a good number of them aren’t the sort of act that would incorporate any sort of shuffle-ball-changing in the first place. I guess the producers just wanted to throw a little embarrassment in their faces, because no one got cut based on the dance crap anyway…it’s basically throw-away footage. I think they realized halfway through that it was a really, really stupid thing to do.
After performing songs they prepared in their off time between the initial auditions and now, the 162 finalists were winnowed down to 100. The remaining 100 contestants were then split into groups and given a producer-picked song to perform together – half of the groups performed on Wednesday’s show, and the second half will be featured on this episode.
Soooooo…after we finish our ‘hey, remember what happened 24 hours ago?’ montage, we’re given another series of clips, this time focusing on what’s in store for us over the next two hours.
Including this nameless girl, who we’ve never seen before and never will again. ZERO.15 seconds of fame.
We know we’re gonna see more group performances, but we also get a glimpse of the judges receiving the news of which category they’ll end up mentoring for the final rounds.
Apparently they get their marching orders from the Deal or No Deal banker guy.
All of this excitement is almost TOO MUCH. Let’s get to the actual show, shall we?
Our first group, singing Marvin Gaye’s ‘What’s Goin’ On,’ consists of vain male model Brennin Hunt, some previously unmentioned dude named Matthew Johnson, adorable Ma’at Bingham Shango (which I believe was also the name of the bassist in the cantina band from Star Wars), former addict Chris Rene and his sister Gina, some group I’ve never heard of called Equality, and Marcus Canty of ‘my momma gave me two years to get famous’ fame.
They’re all WAY excited to get this song and are convinced that it was chosen very specifically for THEM. Well, I would hope the producers would at least go to the lengths of assigning you a song that’s in your vocal range; let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we? They practice standing in a circle and cooing at each other, and I must say, if nothing else, this is gonna be one of the more attractive groups to perform tonight.
Uh. Minus the shiny purple jumpsuit.
After a brief five hours of rehearsal, the group is called backstage to prepare for their performance. Everyone’s nervous but calm, which I guess is a sign that they belong there because I personally would be peeing my undies in stark terror.
Not Brennin, though. He’s too handsome to have bodily fluids.
The group takes its place on stage. The music begins, and they proceed to throw a pretend cocktail party that looks just as uncomfortable as the ones your parents used to throw when you were a kid.
Complete with a 12-year-old hiding in the background.
Ma’at makes her way out from behind the adults and starts off the song, and boy can this little girl wail. Well, sort of wail. She definitely sounds like she might need a few more years in the oven before she’s properly cooked through, but she’s still got more talent than most of the turkeys on the radio these days.
No girl this age should be exposed to a man wearing pants that tight.
Gina and Matthew each get their turn, then it’s time for Marcus Canty.
As played by Wayne Brady.
Chris Rene is one of my favorites, but he doesn’t sound great on this number. But maybe that’s just my TV, because quite often when I think someone sounds like puke squeezed through a garbage disposal the judges end up falling all over themselves to proclaim how AMAZING they are.
Said judges seem pretty happy with this group, save for Simon calling out one of the two girls as having fallen apart. We don’t know if he’s referring to little Ma’at or Chris’ sister Gina, but SPOILER ALERT – they both make it through this round, so I guess it couldn’t have been THAT bad.
The next two groups don’t get any personal love, which is fine by me since the first one includes that snooty Simone Battle chick -
Officially representing every girl I hated in high school.
- and they’re performing the ridiculous ’80s song ‘Kids in America,’ made popular by, incidentally, a British singer.
I’m never having children.
The other group with no face-time is singing ‘I’m Every Woman,’ and if they’re anything like the Brennin/Marcus group, I bet they thought was picked ESPECIALLY for them, since they all just happen to have boobies.
BY the (GIRL) POWER of GREYSKULL!!
After those two blink-and-you’ll-miss-them performances, we’re introduced to a group composed almost entirely of pudgy white dudes who like country music, which is fortunate since they are given a Rascal Flatts song. I don’t listen to country music, so whenever I hear someone say the words ‘Rascal Flatts,’ I envision some long-lost member of the Shirt Tales gang.
I’m pretty sure Rascal Flatts was the raccoon.
For what is, I’m pretty sure, the very first time, we meet contestant Tim Cifers, who Steve Jones tells us is a beer distributor, but then we get this screen:
I was promised beer. F you, sales manager.
The rest of Tim’s group includes Mathew Slovacek, Hannah Bethel, Thomas Wells, Jeremy Easley, and the group Kingston, which is composed of two way-creepy identical twins.
One of these duos is Kingston, I can’t remember which.
Since we’ve never really heard of any of these contestants, I don’t have very high hopes for their progress in this competition. Except maybe for Tim, who’s really pretty good for a country singer. Simon goes so far as to say he’s a star – well, what he actually says is ‘that guy in the hat is a star,’ but you would think if you possessed star quality people would at least bother to learn your freaking NAME.
Our last group consists of the Bieber-haired Brewer Boys, Henri Bredouw, James Douglas, terrible haircut victim Emma Henry, Hannah Jackson, Ryan Sims, Kyle Corr, and Christa Collins, the woman of 10,000 hair pieces.
That must be a WICKED bald spot she’s hiding.
The group gets their song, and before we’re even clued in to what it is, we find out that two of the cats are clawing over which verse they get to sing.
What you should WANT is a hair stylist with 20/20 vision.
Hannah claims she should get the verse because the ‘words are more mature,’ and that as a 31-year-old adult she understands them better than 16-year-old Emma. I’m inclined to agree with her, especially since Emma clearly can’t even understand which direction to comb her hair.
They flip a coin and Hannah wins, but it doesn’t help her much because she doesn’t do a very good job on stage. Thankfully for her, Emma does even worse, honking out such a nasal rendition of ‘Chasing Cars’ that I feel like I’m listening to a Janine Melnitz album.
They may even shop at the same clothing stores.
None of the other people in this group do very well, but Simon seems to like Christa Collins regardless, probably because of all that head gear.
I mean, this is starting to get a little silly, am I right?
Also, is that a TOOTH on her ear?!? Maybe I just don’t get fashion these days.
A commercial break, then it’s time for the next round of cuts to begin! The judges deliberate for quite some time, but what appears to be heated squabbling over favorite contestants is probably nothing more than fancy editing – I’m pretty sure there was so little drama over these particular cuts that the arguing here is purely make-believe. Steve Jones lets us know that the judges have made their decisions.
OOOH, the patented ‘Seacrest Position!’
They split the contestants into three results groups, and the first one is told they didn’t make it, which sends Tatiana ‘Reina’ Williams into hysterics. She’s clearly experiencing the five stages of grief: screaming, crying, blaming other people, tantrum throwing, and chest thumping.
So, yeah, I don’t feel very bad for…her?
Time for the next group, and honestly, is there any question in anyone’s mind what the answer will be for these folks?
I don’t think you need to worry when you’re in the company of five of the contestants who’ve gotten more screen time than Simon.
In case I was being too subtle for you, this group gets through.
The third and last group is told by Simon, ‘it’s not good news…it’s GREAT news!’ Um, was anyone really surprised by that? Isn’t that, like, the exact same trick they play on American Idol contestants each and every GD year? Well, it makes these folks very happy, anyway.
So we’re down to 64 contestants. That’s still a helluva lot of people, so I’m not gonna name them all, but suffice to say, if you had a favorite, I can pretty much guarantee they made it through.
See? There they are, 16 in from the left.
They are told they’ll be given a list of 35 songs, and they are to choose the one song from this list that best fits them as an artist. They’ll be performing it tomorrow for the judges…and an audience of over 3,000 people, which would probably be more exciting if they didn’t initially audition in front of arenas filled with thousands of people. Been there, done that, thank you very much.
All right, off you go, see you in 15 hours – wait, what?!? They tricked us by saying the contestants had until ‘tomorrow’ to perfect their songs – that 15 hours includes sleep time, yo! And if these contestants sleep like I do, that only leaves them maybe 4-5 hours tops to rehearse. Whew.
Steve Jones lets us know that the 32 acts that make it through this final round of boot camp will move on to the next phase…JUDGES’ HOMES. Seriously? We couldn’t come up with a better name for it than ‘judges’ homes?!?’ How about the mentoring round? Calling it ‘judges’ homes’ makes it sound like we’ve suddenly entered an interior design contest.
He also reminds us that the 32 acts will be broken up into four categories:
Boys, girls, groups, and hermaphrodites.
First up in the final round of boot camp is adorable 14-year-old Rachel Crow, who I just realized I’ve accidentally called ‘Erica Crow’ several times now, most likely because that’s a character name from one of my favorite books from when I was a little kid, and listening to Rachel sends me back to those happy times spent curled up with a book instead of doing normal kid stuff like ‘playing sports’ and ‘hanging out’ and ‘talking.’
Rachel comes on stage all giggly and full of cheery smiles, and come ON – you would have to be some kind of monster not to love this cutie.
Okay, okay, maybe I’ll have kids after all.
She may be a chipper little 14-year-old girl, but when it comes to singing ‘If I Were a Boy,’ Rachel’s nothing but serious.
This kid is a FUCKING STAR.
I’ve always liked Rachel, but this performance was crazy, spectacular, out-of-the-ballpark amazing. If she keeps on like that, I guarantee she makes the final four. She even makes Nicole cry.
Not full-on ugly cry, but tears nonetheless.
After that, the next several contestants are a bit of a blur. We get a couple of quick shots of people who weren’t interesting enough to give actual performance time to, then we spend a few minutes on Audrey Turner. Who sounds a lot like Tina Turner, which I guess we shouldn’t find surprising as she was also married to (and performed with) Ike Turner. I guess you can say he had a type.
Next up: a Leggs pantyhose ad.
We also get a few minutes of Tiger Budbill’s rendition of ‘Billie Jean,’ which is just okay in my opinion – but I was a H.U.G.E. fan of David Cook on season 7 of American Idol, and he fucking knocked this song on its ass and then made sweet, sweet love to it. Tiger’s version is just sort of…dry humping.
Next time you dry hump someone, this is the face you will see.
Next up is my personal favorite, Josh Krajcik, who claims he’s had ‘a lot of obstacles’ to overcome in his life.
Such as proving that he, Bigfoot, does indeed exist.
I’m dying to see what this guy looks like after they put him through the make-over car-wash. But it doesn’t really matter, because I absolutely LURV his voice. Even though he tends to overdo it a tiny bit on the Joe Cocker moves.
Don’t care. Love him.
Seeing Josh kill it left a good taste in my mouth, but it’s quickly soured by our next contestant…the dreaded Simone Battle. Ugh. She claims she’s just got ‘just an ATTITUDE’ when she’s on stage, that she’s ‘fierce.’ It’s just about ‘how fierce I am.’
Side note: Can we officially remove the word ‘fierce’ from the English language? I don’t think that any other word has been so fucking overused in the entire history of human existence. The next person who calls something ‘fierce’ in front of me is getting punched in the baby-maker.
Simone tells the judges that there are no other artists like her in the world of music today. Simon tells her she needs more confidence. Heh heh. We get a creepy, completely unnecessary slow pan up Simone’s legs.
I’m skeeved out, how ’bout you?
Simone finally shuts the hell up and starts to sing ‘Your Song’ by Elton John, except what comes out is a weird jazzy version that sounds like dog crap, especially when Simone forgets all of the words after the first sentence and proceeds to make up lyrics about forgetting the words.
‘It’s a little bit funny…how godawful this is.’
Oooooooh, it is BAD. B-A-DDDDDDD. I don’t like this bitch, but this is so awful that it makes me actually feel kinda bad for her. Maybe. Wait, no, I’m over it. She tells the judges that ‘despite what just happened, I can bring it.’ Simon grimaces and shoos her off the stage.
Well, THAT was painful, but look on the bright side – at least we’ll never, ever be subjected to watching Simone Battle on stage ever, ever again. Hallelujah.
It’s called humility. And it is sweet.
Group 4Shore carries on Simone’s legacy of Pure Crap, followed by some chick group we’ve never seen before called Little Ladiez, who do a little strip tease sort of thing with their matching vests that is simultaneously disturbing and laughable. Next.
Makenna and Brock are up, and they do a pretty terrible rendition of ‘Billie Jean.’ Why they didn’t choose a country song – or at least a duet, for heaven’s sake – is beyond me. It’s a mess. Poor blondies.
Next up is the poor man’s Jaye Davidson, Siameze Floyd. He butchers the song ‘Run’ like he’s a seventh-generation pig farmer. Paula goes so far as to say ‘everything about that…was…not right.’ I couldn’t have mumbled it better myself.
Can we now surgically detach ourselves from Siameze, please?
To croon us back to our happy places, Brennin Hunt struts out on stage, chock full of all that manly handsome-ness that Siameze lacked. Or maybe it’s just the fact that his pants don’t have strange hip cut-aways.
Stop loving yourself so much. It’s gross.
He sounds pretty good singing ‘If I Ain’t Got You,’ but Simon’s unhappy because no one seems to want to just sing the song the way it was written – everyone’s trying to put their own spin on it, and it’s driving him mad. Even though they’re always encouraging the contestants to make the songs their own. But, you know, GOOD their own, not BAD their own. Right? Right.
Now it’s time for The Stereo Hogzz, who let us know that it would be really convenient for them to win the five million dollars because they have five members, and I guess that would make the money split up evenly, but I’ll leave the math up to them because they are clearly geniuses.
L.A. thinks they look dapper, and they return the compliment by saying they’re emulating him. Um, when did this turn from a singing competition into a kiss-ass contest?
Okay, okay, I guess they look pretty good.
One of the guys dedicates this song to his newborn, who he should probably be home taking care of instead of selfishly going on some reality show, but I guess that’s what women are for, right?
They sound pretty good and the judges seem happy, until Simon says they’re inconsistent – then suddenly L.A., Paula, and Nicole all start parroting, ‘oh they’re so inconsistent, yeah, inconsistent.’ I’m glad we’re all sticking to our guns here, people.
Little rapper Brian Bradley does well, but we don’t hear any judge notes on him, presumably because most of them don’t know how to handle rap. Phillip Lomax, that goddamn hipster asshole from Shee-attle, sings ‘Summertime’ and it makes me want to tear a hole through my living room wall with my teeth just to escape his cruddy friggin’ voice.
Chris Rene sings ‘Every Breath You Take,’ and of course, he kills it. Hey, isn’t it funny how we can say someone either ‘killed’ or ‘murdered’ a song, and it means two entirely different things? FASCINATING. Anyway, Chris says he wants to be ‘a father to my son,’ apparently by auditioning for a job that would keep him away from home 11 months of the year.
Young Nick Dean sings ‘Somewhere Only We Know,’ and he’s a bit boring but I bet the judges would love to put him through, since he’s a cute blonde teenager that little girls will ADORE. When he sings the lyric, ‘I’m getting old and I need something to rely on,’ I burst into hysterical laughter. Oh, nothing makes me feel old like hearing children singing grown-up music.
Next is Stacey Francis, who’s really nervous because she botched the previous round by holding a note for, like, 45 minutes while the judges got SUPER annoyed. Stacey comes on stage and admits to the judges that her father passed away on the first day of boot camp, but she kept it to herself…until now, of course, when it could maybe save her butt from being sent home.
She says she’ll always have to live with the fact that she wasn’t at her father’s funeral, even though her mom told her she was doing the right thing, that staying in the competition is what her father would’ve wanted her to do. Personally, I think it’s pretty shitty that she didn’t leave – she could’ve auditioned again next year, right? I mean, I know, I know, follow your dreams and all that shit, but dude – your DAD died. I don’t know, man…that guilt is gonna MESS you UP.
She sings ‘Summertime,’ and L.A. loves it, saying, ‘that’s pain, that’s deep, deep, deep pain’…someone hurry up and bottle that shit up so we can SELL it, yo!!!
Stacey’s pleased with her performance, saying there’s no feeling like that in the world.
You also only have one father in this world, buuuuuut whatevs.
After the break, Steve Jones asks us, ‘who goes to the judges houses?’ Uh, I don’t know – gardeners? Chefs? High-priced call girls? OH, I get it, it’s a rhetorical question concerning the contestants. Never mind.
Time for ever-controversial Tiah Tolliver, to whom L.A. says, ‘just in case this is your last performance, I wanna hear from you.’ To which she blithely replies, ‘this won’t be my last performance.’ Of course, Simon eats that shit up, while Nicole and Paula put their bitch faces back on.
See? Shit-eating grin.
Next up is Cari Fletcher, who is so boring I can never remember her from performance to performance. I hope I’m almost done having to not remember her soon.
Boredom, thy name is Cari.
Another strong contender, Drew Ryniewicz, kicks butt singing some song I absolutely do not recognize, but hey, it sounds great so who cares, right? She’s followed by rugby coach Caitlin Koch, who looks so fucking good in her skintight mini-dress that it makes Simon look like this:
I think the technical term is ‘boner face.’
Does it even matter what she sounded like?
Steve Jones REALLY chats up Caitlin when she comes off stage, so between that and Simon’s ogling, I think we can all rest easy knowing that even if she doesn’t win X Factor, Caitlin’s a shoe-in for the position of Trophy Wife to any number of rich dudes. God I hate her.
Our final boot camp contestant is 59-year-old Leroy Bell, who I’m pretty sure is actually 35 but lying about his age in order to have a great ‘story.’
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ben Harper in 20 years.
Leroy sings a soulful rendition of ‘To Make You Feel My Love,’ and I am truly looking forward to him and Josh Krajcik having a Cocker-off at some point during the finals.
That’s it for boot camp, and now it’s time for the judges to decide which contestants are sane enough to be invited inside of their luxury mansions without having to fear for the safety of their expensive shit. Based on that criteria, I’d probably send Dexter packing. I’m betting he could stash a good amount of silverware in that jean jacket.
All of the 64 remaining acts are nervous, including this Chesi girl who has appeared out of nowhere.
With the addition of one little ‘t,’ you have a great future in porn.
The contestants mill about aimlessly and give half-hearted interview snippets about having done their best and how only one person can win. Everyone seems fairly humble and on edge…until we get to Simone Battle. Of course.
No one likes you.
Simone, for reasons beyond human comprehension, is convinced she’ll be moving on to the judges’ homes. Because after completely annihilating your final performance, forgetting every single lyric, and thoroughly pissing off the judges (and the country), the one thing you should be carrying around is an overinflated ego the size of that asteroid from Armageddon.
More sound bites from nervous contestants, lots of judge bickering, and we’re ready to announce our final 32 acts. The gang is divided up into their appropriate categories, and first up are the girls under 30.
And the first girl through is…future trophy wife Caitlin Koch! No surprise there, but at least she has the decency to act shocked. Second gal is Tora Woloshin, the peroxide-blonde tattooed hottie who scored in her first audition with ‘I Want You Back,’ but was mysteriously invisible throughout boot camp. And our third girl through is…
WHAT. NO. NONONONONONONONO.
Jesus H., I canNOT believe that Simone ‘Hot Pants’ Battle made it to the judges’ homes. Remember what I said way earlier about life not being fair? POINT MADE. I guess the lesson here, kids, is always think far too highly of yourself.
And don’t wear stripes, cuz none of those girls are going through.
Simon says, ‘you weren’t expecting that, were you?’ And Simone has the gall to tearfully shake her head in agreement, throwing a little mock humility at the judges to win their affection. Ugh. I’m a little traumatized by the thought of having to write about Simone for at least another week, but I’m hoping she makes such an ass of herself in front of whichever judge is mentoring her that they send her packing on the earliest, fastest plane possible.
Preferably THIS one.
Luckily, perky little Bieber-lover Drew Ryniewicz goes through next, and I can make my peace with this show, at least momentarily. Then they double down by giving me a cute aneurysm when Drew is swarmed by Rachel Crow and Ma’at Bingham Shango for a girly group hug of adorable-ness.
If your heart didn’t just explode, then you don’t have one.
Then they throw even MORE fuel onto my heart fires by passing through Rachel Crow, who is so fucking DARLING when she cries tears of joy that even Simon has to hug her.
ADMIT THAT YOU ARE MELTING.
Our sixth girl through is Jazzlyn Little, who is so completely stunned that she makes this face for about five full minutes.
Jazzlyn’s humbleness is so honest and refreshing that you just can’t help but get behind her. I hope she’s able to get past her nerves and rock the house…I’m rooting for her.
The final two ladies to make it through are…Melanie Amaro (she of the great big voice) and Tiah Tolliver (she of the judge food fight). They are both overjoyed, unlike the many girls who didn’t make it…there’s a LOT of tears and runny mascara at this point, and it’s all a little much for me…sigh.
Okay, let’s shake it off, cuz it’s time for the boys under 30. First one through, in the most predictable twist since we found out that fucking trees were killing people in The Happening, is Brennin Hunt. Who, I have found out, is actually married, and forces his poor wife to take pictures like this with him:
Here, honey, hold my shirt and stand behind me.
The remaining seven guys are called out in rapid succession, presumably because they’re just not as adorable and dramatic as the young girls were. The seven are: lil’ rapper Brian Bradley, country boy Skyelor Anderson, Vanilla Ice-saak Nick Voss, other country boy (i.e. the not-black one) Tim Cikers, Shee-attle hipster a-hole Phillip Lomax, Wayne Brady’s illegitimate son Marcus Canty, and former drug addict (was it meth? I bet it was meth) Chris Rene.
Now it’s time for the groups, and this category kind of makes me laugh out loud, because there are so few groups that I’m not even sure they’ve got eight to choose from. They crown the first five finalist groups very quickly: the Stereo Hogzz, 2 Squar’d (or is it 4 Squar’d, like the stupid check-in app?), 4Shore (all of these numbers are gonna get real old, real fast), the Brewer Boys, and Illusion Confusion.
Then Simon says there’s only one slot left. One slot?!? I thought there were supposed to be eight acts for each category – isn’t it a little unfair to whatever judge gets the groups, to only give them six?!? Weird. But anyway, the Anser gets the last spot, leaving, like, maybe THREE lonely, desperate groups to feel like the total losers that no one wants on their kickball team.
I guess the judges just aren’t into blondes this year. Sorry, Kingston and Makenna and Brock.
Now for our final category – the over 30′s. Again, there aren’t too many of them, so it’s gonna really suck to be one of the very few who don’t make it through. First up is Elaine Gibbs, the Nell Carter sound-alike, followed quickly by Tiger Budbill, who everyone seems to really, really like. He must be like the nicest guy on the planet. I-can’t-believe-he’s-59 Leroy Bell goes through next, along with David Cook wannabe James Kenney and burrito wookie Josh Krajcik. Secretly bald Christa Collins gets the sixth spot, and it’s hard to tell if she’s happy about it or not.
And why is Steve Jones wearing a GD pinky ring, anyway? Lame.
The seventh spot goes to…drum roll, please…homeless James Brown, er, Dexter Haygood!!! He completely breaks down on stage, and L.A. tells him it’s time to start believing in himself. Paula rushes to give him a hug.
Two halves of the same mentally unhinged coin.
Only one spot left, and it goes to…Stacey Francis, who as you remember experienced a VERY recent death in the family, so are we really very surprised that they put her through? It would have been a pretty cruel joke to send her home after THAT sob story. I feel bad for the six ‘over 30′ contestants left…except for Siameze Floyd. How the hell he even got THIS far is beyond me.
L.A. takes a moment to tell ousted Gina Rene that her brother, Chris, did indeed make it through, which is really, really nice of him, am I right? She’s elated, and is convinced that her brother is gonna win the whole thing. She might even be right.
Well, that’s it – contestants start packing up their bags and heading out of the waiting rooms…until…
The judges call fourteen people back!!! They’re all youngsters, and they’re brought on stage and split up into two groups – one consisting of four pretty girls, and the other a gigantic group of ten kiddies.
The kids are told that they weren’t good enough as individual contestants, but that they showed enough promise that the judges wanted to see how they performed as a group, thereby giving us our final two entries in the group category! Oooooohhhh, I see what they did there. Clever. But why is that one group comprised of TEN kids? Are they trying to make a new Mickey Mouse Club or something? Seems like an awful lot of people to shove into one group, but whatevs. They’re in.
Now it’s time for the judges to find out which category they’re mentoring…L.A. thinks the over 30′s are the strongest category, and both Paula and Simon agree that the groups will be the most difficult to coach. So it’s safe to assume the producers will stick one of them with the groups, then. I’ve got my money on Paula, since it’s probably part of Simon’s contract to get to work with the young hot girls.
Nicole gets the first call, and it’s…the over 30′s! She squeals, ‘REEEEEally?!?’ Honestly, Nicole? Is it that hard to believe, that they stuck you with people your own age? I mean, come on, sister, we all know that you’ve lied about your age in the past. Just accept the fact that you’re no longer 26 and we can all get on with our lives.
L.A. is up next, and he has a moment of silent prayer while he awaits his fate.
Followed by Black Lex Luthor evil laughter.
L.A. gets the boys, and after maniacally laughing for several minutes he says, ‘I think I just won.’ Even though he thought the over 30′s were the strongest, I guess. Lemons out of lemonade!! He’s dying to know who Simon got, since he’s the biggest competish.
Time for Paula, who is sitting on her couch frantically petting her poor dog until it’s time to answer the phone. And the news is…the DREADED GROUPS!!! Uh oh. Paula has a minor meltdown.
Someone, quick! Crush up that tiny dog and put it into a pill!
This, of course, leaves Simon with the girls. And that smarmy slimeball just couldn’t be happier. He tells the banker producer, ‘you just made eight girls very, very happy.’
By giving them the one judge they can sleep with to get ahead.
The judges scurry to call one another to find out who got what category. Simon says it’s appropriate that Paula got the groups, since both are comprised of multiple personalities. Yowch. L.A. tells Simon that he’s met his match, then goes on to tell US that Simon has ‘one hell of a bag of tricks.’ Which is a really mean way to describe the final eight girls. (Except Simone Battle. Call her whatever you want.)
And that’s it for this week, gang! Next week we move on to the judges’ homes, where the final 32 will be pared down to just 16 – at this rate, this show’s gonna be over before freaking November, y’all.
Who are your favorites in the top 32? Do you think the producer-made groups are going to be cohesive singing units? And how long til Simon bangs Simone?