Had a Nice Day!

Good thing TV's are cheap. Cuz I don't know how else I would have found a new one to replace the one I bashed in after Seacrest informed me that no one was going home last week. And to top it all off, we'd get to say see ya to not one, but TWO contestants this time around. "WHY!?!?!", we wailed in endless pain and horror. "Because it's a charity night!" Ryan exclaims, lucky his pink ass is 3,000 miles away from my ability to knock out every one of his front teeth. Never in my life have I been outraged by this show, and the reason being that American Idol is never toyed with by the hands of its producers. Not at least when it comes to results, right? RIGHT?!?! So can someone please tell me why in GOD'S NAME they thought it would be a good idea to make people sit through 2 hours of (good) charity relief only to be ROBBED of the very results those 70+ million votes crafted???? I guess it should come as no surprise that the second the producers did decide to take a swing at bat, they came up with a whiff so great it cooled the entire country by 3 degrees. Not to mention the barrage of incensed text messages I received by virtue of the injustice. HOW COULD THEY?????! HOW?! After failing to deliver Bono in any valid form????? After telling us that Blake was still safe??? They didn't throw us one single bone, and thought their form of "charity" was going to be appreciated. Well, that's 2+ hours of my life that I'd graciously take back if I had the chance, not because I didn't cry during every starving baby segment - cuz I did, and not because I wouldn't have donated money - cuz I did, but because I sat there thinking that all that hullabaloo would be worth the real reason we're here: to see someone get the goddamn boot when their week calls. Ugh. Just ugh. And as if all that's not enough to make me buy 2 more TV's just in case, they have the audacity to shorthand the exits of both those contestants who leave us tonight. Keep your eyes peeled, people -- RyRy Tartar is going to hit several restaurants in the continental US very soon. If you order it, the meal's on me.

After last week's appalling display of "shock value", we got to see everyone try their hand again at something musical, and Blake was there too. At least Bon Jovi's still the ageless wonder, providing some hot songs to match. Virtually everyone shined with a few monstrous-looking exceptions, but we're now forced to believe that AI hasn't doctored last week's numbers. Which they have, of course. But that's showbiz, baby, so we'll roll with it.

1. Phil gets to be called Phil instead of Alien this week because he kicked veritable ass and took names in the process. That was by far the best performance he's had to date. Only his version of "I'll Be Watching You" came close to that kind of verve, but this time around, he was impeccable and real from start to finish. Now, it's too bad he told us that the reason he was that impeccable was because that's the only song he's been singing since birth, but it still smelled of sweet roses and baby powder. So much so that I even forgot how scary-looking he is for those 3 minutes. So much so that I almost hired a girl in the front row to subtly strangle Simon for those completely nonsensical, inaccurate, snobby, inappropriate and classless remarks he made in response to it. Maybe he was actually listening to his own audition on The Simpsons instead, but whatever the hell Simon was reviewing had nothing to do with Baldy's effort. 'Cuz the polished dome was so on point last night I could even hear Captain Kirk yelling "engage" in spots.

2. Then came everyone's golden child, and by everyone I mean everyone except for me apparently. Oh, and my coworker. And my coworker's mom. The 3 of us are the only people not convulsing from love on the Sparks train. And boy am I glad I didn't buy season tickets to that show, because last night's horror was the worst I've seen on American Idol since Sanjaya rocked the same hairdo. EVERYTHING, from top to bottom, start to stop, was horrendous, out of place, manic, out of whack, painful, and unnecessary. She looked like the Bride of Frankenstein's mixed cousin, she sang like she was getting stung by wasps throughout, and she looked so uncomfortable I almost changed the channel. And it was a DVR recording, so to change the channel would have required me to press "Exit", then "Done", then "Do you want to keep the recording or delete it?", then "No, Don't Delete", then channel 530 to see if any re-runs of The Tudors were playing because Sunday night's was so good I almost wet myself. But you losers who don't respect the power of Rhys Meyers wouldn't care about that, so I digress. The point is, my index finger almost had to jump through a lot of hoops to get away from the debacle named Jordin. Now, while I appreciate her admission that it went something all funky, apparently she thinks that laughing about it would be endearing. Unfortunately, I realized at that point that Jordin's ego is growing, because only people who are wholeheartedly convinced they're going to win a competition laugh like that after failing so miserably. I'd brush up on the "How to Make America Love the Streaky Within You" handbook, because I'm pretty damn sure thinking you're the shit when you're in fact quite capable of shitty is not the best way to go.

3. And then the Comeback Queen did the unthinkable. With all the reviews of her more recent efforts (including mine), which found about 1,000 different ways to say "She's Outta Heeah!" in 6 different languages, who would have thought my darling Kiki would have brought the fire like she did last night? It was as moving as any performance she's done, she sold it, milked it for all it was worth, and got to makeout with Simon as a reward. Pretty good for a night's work if you ask me. Seriously though. Maybe it was seeing JonBon's shining, lion-like face that lifted her to old and sorely missed heights, but whatever it was, it was WORKIN'. And all the haters can kindly step off my woman, thank you. Your services will not be needed this time around. She stepped up the personality game by MILES, she was charming, she even smiled several times, and then spanked that puppy outta the ballpark. Simon can try to steal her away with one smooch but we all know who's got the goods. In the gender-appropriate spirit of MokenStef -- who's one hit wonder doubles as the greatest 90's R&B anthem of all time -- I'd like to say only this to Cowell: "She's mine. She's mine. You may'a had her once but I got her all the time." I was so proud I almost forgot how tall the hairs on my arms stood up when she sang, and her pause before the grand finale was so pregnant with confidence and power that she gave everyone listening a lesson in how important silence is to great music as much as sound. She deserves ONLY to stay on in this competition, but if she goes it will be with swing in her slim side, because Kiki knows she's a badass bitch and now you know it too. Mwah.

4. Blake got up there and did exactly what he needs to do to pull off the greatest musical heist since the creation of Fergie. He took the risk and it paid off, but as Simon said, there will be a lot of people who will at least ask "Hey? Isn't this show about singing?". The answer to that is yes, and the answer to whether I still think Blake needs to die yesterday is also yes, but a performance like that at least makes me understand why he has some fans. Those fans are not me, in that I don't watch American Beatboxer, but I'm sure if I did, I'd be mildly entertained. I commend him for his bravery, and for his new hair color, but shoot me for wanting an actually great s-i-n-g-e-r to win a great s-i-n-g-i-n-g competition. And whatever he was trying to sell me out of the left inside pocket of his jacket wasn't workin'. I'm not sure why it took him 3 times to figure that out, but I could have at least been respectful enough to look him in the eye before walking past him. I mean, the homeless are human too y'know. Anyhoo, Skaterboy bothers me to no end and really belongs in "America's Got Talent" if anything, but at least he brought back memories of my first Barnum & Bailey show.

5. ChrissyPoo was brave in that other way that usually adds up to bad, like the way David Blaine was brave for deciding to practically kill himself in front of millions by not holding his breath long enough under water. That's the type of bravery where everyone goes "Oh wow. That was brave of him, y'know, to embarrass himself like that with such commitment." Because not only does he know he doesn't belong in the pack anymore, he even decided to go out by singing a song that Daughtry manhandled just last season. Chris Daughtry is the male counterpart to Fantasia in this scenario, wherein no man should be singing it if Big Daddy already touched it. The fact that Chris Not-Daughtry picked it was almost his way of asking for euthanasia, because there's no other way someone in his position with his limitations would choose to do it thinking it'd pay off. He sang it rather well and showed he's got chops, but he also looked like he was trying so hard to stay afloat that I'm pretty certain whatever it feels like to be in the first half of the 25th mile in a marathon would feel a lot better by comparison. He's hot, but he's most certainly wanted dead as far as remaining contestants go after that effort. All good though, despite it being only our second date, the RyRy Tartar's on me, remember?

6. The Doo closed the show, which seemed weird because I feel like she's closed to show a whole damn lot lately. But why not -- she's the bomb and she knows it and her lying about not knowing how to sing rock wasn't going to cover that up. I loved the song itself, and she sure as hell had whatever Tina Turner had for breakfast because if I closed my eyes I couldn't hear the difference most of the time. Of course, then I'd open them and not break into a nervous sweat like Tina's legs make me do on command, so I'm definitely sure it was The Doo on stage. I love her, and appreciate that unlike everyone else she refuses to lower the musical bar at any point, but is her lack of surprise gonna get in her way? For the good of music I sure as hell hope not, but let's not forget who bid us adieu on the show last night. Ha, as if Satan and Laura even know where Africa is on the map. But, if I've learned anything about American history it's that if the Bushes can exist the way they do in our lifetime, The Doo most certainly can get the boot by the brainless just the same. Not sayin' now, but I had to put it out there.

K, so assuming the producers don't act like ungrateful ho's again, we're gonna see 4 buttcheeks get a pat tonight. I'm just hoping my Kleenex box isn't involved, because there's only one way this should go tonight. If only. Here we go!

Shoulda: Chris Richardson & Phil Stacey
Shcoulda: Chris Richardson & Phil Stacey
Wild Card: Phil Stacey & Lakisha Jones