It's slightly gratifying and also completely disgusting. It's like I accidentally bathed in Eau de Ann Coulter and immaculately conceived, through the omnipotence of Rupert Murdoch, the blueprint for Fetus' rise to stardom. If they come for me, Gasmii, tell the world that I gave Fetus his name.

One of these days, I fear the futuristic stage will seek revenge on Seabreath (like the Ray Bradbury story "The Veldt"). I'm always a little worried that the high-tech sliding doors will immediately reverse directions and smush him into orange jelly as he strolls onto the stage.

An episode of Rescue 9-1-1 waiting to happen.

Everyone harps on Simon for not dressing up (although his shirts and sweaters appear to be supremely expensive and lint-free), but no one ever picks on Randy for wearing only man-cardigans with colorful edging.

Is it because Randy is contractually obligated to wear ugly bracelets from Paula's line?

Paula Abdul appears to be shopping from the leftovers of Prada's Spring/Summer collection and the Michael's sale on huge fake flowers, which she's fashioned into a brooch.

Who wants to have a tea party? Meeeeee!

It's Dolly Week on AI , and you know that Kristy Lee is going to milk this to her advantage.

We had a very prolific lemon tree in our backyard when I was growing up. The lemons the tree produced were nothing short of ginormous, and were often the same size as supermarket cantaloupes. We'd pick the lemons with the picker, a basket on the end of a long stick, but they'd fall of their own free will and nearly kill us as we scrambled to avoid them. My dad called the lemons "Dolly Partons" but I was much too young to understand why. I thought the woman just really, really liked her citrus fruits to be large. Suffice it to say, I was sent off to first grade one day with a bag of Dolly Partons for my teacher and totally got put in time out for calling them that. Dolly Parton will always remind me of making lemonade, unfair punishment, and being bonked on the head by giant yellow fruits.

Dolly, in a silver lamé mini dress that RuPaul totally covets, confides that she never had children of her own so she considers her songs her children. During the writing of "9 to 5," she had no instruments around, so she played it with her acrylic fingernails, which allegedly sound like a typewriter. Or spoons on a washboard, which I believe were a precursor to Morse Code. They do a group sing of "9 To 5" around the ole' pianny, and it's cornier than a state fair.

"I never want to go back to Nordstrom's!"

You have to respect a woman who openly says things like, "I look just like the girls next door...if you happen to live next door to an amusement park" and "It's a good thing I was born a girl; otherwise, I'd be a drag queen." Dolly admits that she also won't be criticizing any of the singers since it's very hard for her to do so. If it were still April 1, I'd write this recap in homage to Dolly's sunshiny optimism-fueled compliment factory, gushing about each singer, full of praise and delight at their performances, no matter how atrocious. I'd pretend to be tone-deaf so that everything would sound delightful and moving. I'd put myself in the shoes of Paula Abdul and write like I was sipping on Kool-Aid laced with ecstasy and was able to see all the colors of their voices. I would bow at the altar of Kristy Lee Cook.

Yeah, well, this won't get published till April 2, so there goes that.

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Posted in American Idol by T.Vo | Permalink | Comments (7)
Last Comment: fire@will on Apr 3, 2008 02:57 PM.