American Idol 7: David Cook FTMFW!.. Grrr

American Idol, Season 7.  Final 3 Elimination Round. 

Awright Peeps, let’s recap tonight’s events!

Douchecrest:  Paula, your boobies are hanging out.  And you’re distracting Randy.  And me.  If I liked boobies.  Do I like boobies?  Hmm… Simon, do I like boobies?  Oh… and This.Is.American.Idol!

Ain’t No Stopping Us Now!  Okay, my Sexy is such a team player, but it won’t be soon enough if I never have to see one of these douche-y dance numbers again.   Disco?  Really?  Aww, and do we have to watch Squinty bustin out his Brooke White dance moves again?  And he’s wearing Sexy’s recycled “Innocent” marching band jacket.  Awww, nah… vomitous, omitous.  The Fab Three saunter over by the judges to shake their moneymakers. A pole magically appears and Paula is straddlin it like a horn dog on Uncle Bud’s leg.  Nuff already, this is jus embarrassin.

Ford pimpmercial --  “How far is Heaven?”  About 10 feet, which is the distance between me and my television, when Sexy David Cook is front-and-center…unless it happens to be one of those moments when I’m lickin the TV, of course… which is pretty much every time he’s front and center.  Okay, so Heaven is a flat screen and some slobber away…

Fantasia performs Bore Me… Gurl, I luv it that you are rough around the edges, and can work a stage… Tear.It.Up.Dahlin!!!  Ah, Hell Yeah, make ME want to wrap MY legs around a Pole!  Don’t Be Shy and Git You Some, Gurl!!!  (tho, must say there was a priceless Cowell WTF moment near the end... me thinks he wasn’t quite “gittin” it.)  Well, Gurl, I GOT IT!  I especially LURVED the part where you sang…

I'm Mister Green Christmas
I'm Mister Sun
I'm Mister Heat Blister
I'm Mister Hundred and One
They call me Heat Miser,
What ever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch
I'm too much!  

Gurl, you totally RAWKED the Heat Miser!  (yah, Google the miser and see if she didn't borrow his hair... btw, if Sexy loses, this will most definitely be the Year Without A Santa Claus... not gonna happen)

Squinty’s trip home:  How does it feel?  Bah, bah, goo, goo!  Murray High Cheerleaders?  Uh, uh, uh, I’ve never been this close to a cheerleader before…  uh, uh, Is that a microphone in my pocket?  uh, uh… Awwww, Squinty McFetus is blubberin and blowin snot like a baby… Which is only fitting.  He is a baby.  Do you have Poo-Poo pants, wee one?

Timex’s trip home:  SySy is also blubberin and blowing snot like a baby.  Awww, Timex is “Livin the Dream”.  “Believe in Yourself, Anything is Possible.”  Well, gurl, once you’re riding that bus back to Obscurity in about, oh, 35 minutes, you will have plenty of time to contemplate your future… which may or may not include a career as a (i) Broadway Diva, (ii) neighborhood bar lounge singer, or (iii) greeting card writer.  Oh, and if that bus looks familiar, me thinks it may be the one you were thrown under last night.

Sexy’s trip home:  Can you say Rock Star treatment?  Dayum, you’d think he was the frakkin President of the United States!  Okay, I’ll be the first to admit… some Major Pimpage here.  And… I’m okay with that.    He is our next American Idol, after all.  So as not to be left out, Cookie blubbers and blows snot, too.  And let’s just pause on the frame with Sexy in that baseball cap and uniform (well… ½ of the uniform anyway).  Mmm, mmm, mmm!!!  Get Er Done, Son!!!  Finer than fine!!!  Ahhhh… Douchecrest rolls the “let’s pretend it’s the end of your journey” footage... and we get to see the “borderline fugly, doughboy, Blake Lewis sweater vest wearin” pics (Um, yah..Not. Same. Dude.) … and video ends with… a yummers money note SexFace.  As. It. Should. Grrr  

So, the Final Smackdown will be… David vs. David!  Der.  See ya Timex, you had a good run!  And, um, Sexy, could you … I don’t know… maybe look fu@kin ELATED about being in the Final Two?  Gee, a smile, a crooked grin, a fart, something, Dahlin!!!!  Some emotion would BE NICE! I chalked yesterday’s ambivalence up to being “tired”, but I am seriously wondering if you just don’t want this anymore.  I got news for you Darlin – Resistance. Is. Futile.  Your Rock Star-dom is bigger than YOU now and life as you knew it will never be the same.    And all that lame talk of what “wearin the crown” will do to your career, your street cred, etc. is just Ridicudonk (my BFF palais’ favorite word).  You are Burning with the Heat of a Thousand Blazing Suns, afterall!  Larger Than Life!  So, kick back and enjoy the ride!  And tear that stage UP next week, your fans and your Smokin Hot Girlfriend Bitten expect nothing less.

Now, regarding that other matter of whether or not I am breaking up with you next week… well, you just don’t fight fair.  Given that I am still in a weakened Cookie-laden sugar coma state and more than a little wobbly from the Eargasm you laid on me, I think it’s best if we table this discussion for next week.  But… I will say that if a certain Rock-Star-In-The-Making were to sing some… oh, I don’t know… HAIR METAL… this issue would be “laid” to rest.  Ya Haw.  Now That’s what I’m talkin about!

Later y’all!

You’ve Been Bitten!

p.s. Thanks again to all my Tawanda Gurls for the loaners !