Holy shit, I've never been so bored watching American Idol. I've literally been shaking with eagerness for this season to arrive, and now all I wanna do is masturbate and take a nap. Maybe have a corned beef sandwich right after. Yes, I wash my hands first. Though my pussy is probably cleaner than the beef.
I made some really nasty notes about last week's performances, but it seems pointless now to post my opinions. Suffice it to say that last week sucked. Last week involved plenty of hand washing and corned beef.
But this week, I was glued. Mostly 'cause the guys are a wreck. Here's the rundown of jizz running down your chin after this splattery mess:
Yes, his singing is horrendous. I can't believe he got any positive feedback from the, ahem, "judges," but I really think he's just being coddled at this point for ratings. They need at least one guy who isn't a complete fag to bring in the female vote. I mostly can't get past the fact that he looks like the guy who starred in the sitcom Wings. The guy who was porking Crystal Bernard.
And moreover, why are they even referred to as judges? America is the real judge, my friends. Even at the gates of Heaven, you'll see Condomsqueeza Rice, Martha Stewart, and Rocky Balboa.
I really want to like him for his song choice: Andy Gibb was a god. And for a second there, I wanted him to stuff one of his crusty dreads into my vagina, but meh. I don't think he'll last long, simply because he can't completely win me over. That means no audience will be completely won over by him. He has no charisma. I am annoyed though that he got slammed for his performance, especially since he's a combo-talent unlike Michael Sucks Johns who can barely sing and keep his legs straight at the same time. Fucking retard. At the very least, Paula should understand Jason. Paula, like Jason, is a combo-talent. She can sing a song and dance with a cartoon creature.
Luke Menure (nee Menard) on Acapella: "It's not like having a band behind you." Really, Corky?
This operatic abortion was really hard to listen to. At one point, my clit crawled up into the attic of my torso and told sad stories to my spleen. Holocaust fables. Then my clit and spleen watched Yentl together and cried themselves to sleep.
Translation: I don't like this fuck.
Commercial! Mmmm, President's Choice parchment paper packets for lunch or dinner. Le Choix du Presidents indeed.
Please don't decipher the levels of rock while wearing that douchebag bandana.
This guy looks more like a fat Polish chambermaid I once threw a penny at than Axl Rose. The judges are so stupid: even Paula's used that "inauthentic" bullshit on contestants. What's this bitch smoking? Cause I want some.
I could excuse Robbie's lack of talent if he were more self-effacing and less of an arrogant prick. Take your sneering elsewhere, Robert. This is American Idol. This is about dignity and integrity.
Wow, where to begin? Okay --
Fact: I'm the biggest fag hag ever. When my strict Middle Eastern parents forbade me from sucking cock for dollar coins in high school, I turned to the gay community for mall fun and random cruelties inflicted on recent immigrants.
But when Danny Noriega catwalks onto the stage, all my devotion to flamers dies away. He annoys the shit out of me. And I can put up with it for now because I know he won't last. I'll just enjoy watching him fly too close to the sun on wings of anonymous asslips until he comes crashing down when a lack of votes crush his delusional dreams.
But on a positive note, while Danny won't be winning any contests soon, he can get a job as the cool counselor at some GLBT center in Downtown Wisconsin, thereby igniting the acceptance fantasies of flamers across the cheesy plains.
Or else he can make a career as transgendered porn star, Anita Dick. At least until the industry spits him out like a congealed cum loogie. The kind that gets caught behind your molar. You know what I'm talkin!
The orgasm face he made while singing the words "the day my daddy died" made me kinda horny. But ugly is waging a war on this guy's face. His teefs look like undercooked grains of basmati rice.
Did he even finish the song? I blacked out.
This dick is out next week. Trust me. I'd bet my corned beef-smelling fingers on it.
God needs to revise and resubmit on this guy. Fucking Motown Robot. I want to support him, even if it's only as the Token Male Chocolate Face. But he's so dull.
Yuck. Reeks of pedo. I think I saw him on Perverted Justice a few months ago. He was under "Unsuccess Stories" when even a 12 year-old bulimic with daddy issues wouldn't get with him. Beer commercial-singing loser. I hope he's out next week, but he's got the Aspiring Groupie Slut vote on lockdown, son.
What a talented twink. This kid makes my balls tingle. He's gonna be in the last two singing, if not the winner. All kidding aside, he really sang that song beautifully. I wish John Lennon would rise from the dead so I could shoot him all over again and then turn to David and say, "Who the fuck was that guy?" while pointing to Lennon's corpse. Then we'll walk off into the sunset together licking ice cream cones and laughing.
Okay, I probably won't be saying too much about the chicks this season (unless I YouTube their performances). My dance class (fuck you) takes place on Wednizzday nights, so you know. Body over brains, that's what I always say.
You're probably thinking, so-what-who-are-you-to-criticize-anyway? And you're right. I'm fat, sexless, stupid, "tanned," and ignorant. Juuuuust a pile of beer cans and a half-smoked pack of Pall Malls away from being completely irrelevant. But you know what? I don't drink or smoke, so unfortunately for you, I'll be back next week.