Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

American Idol Recap, Tuesday, March 7: Enquiring Minds Don't Always Need To Know

I don't know about you, but I spent the past five days in a state of euphoria, a perpetual bliss, if you will. I've slept better. I've been friendlier to strangers on the street. I even allowed a telemarketer to ramble for a full thirty seconds last night before telling him to bugger off.

In fact, I have been so over-the-top happy you could mistake me for Joe, the guy in those male enhancement commercials, whose life and, well, "maleness", is enhanced so greatly he is able to do everything from win the golf tournament at the club to land the big promotion at work to keep a smile plastered on Mrs. Joe's bouffanted head at home.

OK, ok - maybe I'm not that happy, but I could do a pretty fair laxative-ad-I-feel-good leap into the air.

Heading into tonight's female performances, I found I was no longer shaking uncontrollably, flinching at dust particles in the air, or crying in my pillow at night. And the reason is simple: The Grinch, aka Brenna Gethers, has gone back to Mount Krumpet.

But onto tonight's recap...

After a quick video of last week's ejects, Ryan moved things forward to the judges: Randy who was wearing Big Ben on his wrist (someone call the Queen), Paula who was wearing enough hair extensions for three heads, and Simon who wearing a tight, short sleeved sweater - yes, I know, color me surprised too...

Tonight's video theme? Juicy tidbits we would all be surprised to know about the contestants. My only thought? Since The Smoking Gun has failed to out anyone for prostitution, spousal abuse or steroids this past week, there were not going to be any stunning revelations. This appears to be a pretty tame, rapsheet-free group of kids.

Since this evening's episode was only one hour, we jumped right into Smurfette huffing helium and explaining that we would all be interested to know that her nickname is Princess P (ummm, NO, it's Smurfette) and that she is actually a tomboy (yeah, and I'm a linebacker for the Seattle Seahawks). Taking the stage to sing Gloria Estefan's Do The Conga, Smurfette was dressed in Brenna's green sausage dress, jeans (didn't we beat the jeans/dress trend to death two years ago?), roughly ten pounds of jewelry and an equal weight of green eyeshadow. I honestly found her version of the song mediocre at best - seriously, it had me yearning for Diana DiGarmo - with only one serious note to speak of in the whole song. The judges want her around, so they were nice to her, but they all stressed that she needs to act her age. Simon ended his critique with, "America loves you.", but truth be told, there is a serious groundswell against Smurfette. Sure, she's sweet, but too much of her kind of sugar causes mental cavities.

Up next was my girl, Lisa Tucker. Her personal trivia? She loves Jimi Hendrix and plays electric guitar. Now THAT was a fun thing to learn. I like her even more now. Walking to the center of the neon Cheerio, all my daughters screamed, "I LOVE her hair!". Yes, she finally straightened it and to quote my 12 year old, "Baybay, that works for you!" Singing Tiffany Taylor's Where I Stand, Lisa killed the double tank top look and wore an understated grey/blue sequined dress. I was not familiar with the song, but she sang it well and really engaged the camera. And what can I say - that smile is worth a million perfect notes. Randy gave her the Smurfette Alert about not singing too "old", Paula, who was uncharacteristically coherent this evening, called her a seasoned performer, and Simon channeled his inner 10 year old girl and gushed, "You are super talented." Oh and that she would sail through to next week. Yes, if my family's three cell phones and one house phone have anything to do with it.

Melissa McGhee, who seriously needed a nickname, has now been christened, Deep Throat - no, not in a perverted Linda Lovelace kind of way - get your minds out of the gutter, please - but based on her permagravel growl that makes one think of Kirstie Ally, Demi Moore, laryngitus. Deep Throat's revelation? She is a gearhead. Like anyone out in TVland was surprised by that one. Coming out to sing What About Love by Heart, DT was sporting Priscilla Presley's eye make-up, and dressed in shredded jeans (seriously, I've heard of faded, distressed, and acid washed, but weed wacked?) and a toddler sized black leather jacket. Yes, she knows she is on the bubble this week and had pulled out all the flesh baring stops. I agreed with Randy and Paula that she did a good job and chose the right song, but I also agree with Simon - she should pack the suitcase tonight.

AFTER. THE. BREAK, Ryan was sitting in the Red Room with Katharine McPhee and quizzed her about the rumors shooting through cyberspace the past week. I did notice many people were Googling "Katharine McPhee Quitting" and "Katharine McPhee Knocked Up", but did not give it much credence - again, The Smoking Gun will find it out before we do. Katharine assured everyone she is not quitting and is not pregnant by Kevin Covais. OK, that made me throw up in my mouth a bit. Really, his little vienna sausage needs left out of all conversations.

Kinnik Sky was up next, waxing rhapsodic about chitlins (pig intestines) - her favorite food. I know everyone in America went "Ewwwww", but 'fess up, when was the last time you ate a hot dog? One bun length Oscar Meyer contains everything but the squeal, kids.

Kinnik also chose to highlight her belly button tonight, wearing a tied up plaid shirt, brown flowing skirt and what looked suspiciously like a weight lifter's belt. Singing, "If I Ain't Got You", she sounded good, but there was still nothing compelling about her delivery that made you want to sign for the package. I believe Thursday night she will be stamped "Return To Sender".

Another break (roughly $4.2 million worth of commericals - you DID notice there were more commercials tonight, didn't you?) and we came back to Cheekbones McPhee who bragged that she went to the Boston Conservatory - the same place attended by Constantine Maroulis. Pssst, Katharine, in one fell swoop, you weakened the reputation of both the Conservatory and yourself. And that reference to his hot "smoldering"?  Large piles of manure heat up and smolder too, that doesn't make it a good thing.

Simply dressed in a black shirt and jeans, against an Easter egg dye screensaver, Cheekbones belted out Think by Aretha Franklin - a gutsy move for a demure white girl. Luckily for her, like Kelly Clarkson before her, she has the chops to pull it off. A little light on the "soul", but a great performance nonetheless. She truly makes singing seem effortless, like something any idiot should just be able to open their mouth and do. I loved seeing her excited and enjoying herself, not drowning under another ballad. Randy uttered his Season 5 catchphrase, "We got a hot one!", Paula (still amazingly coherent) called her "amazing" and Simon congratulated for taking a risk and pulling it off. No need to pack the suitcase this week, Cheeks.

Next up was the Jolly Teen Giant, six footer Ayla Brown, confessing that until the age of ten she thought her father was Elvis. And some people give parents sh*t for teaching their kids to believe in the Easter Bunny and The Tooth Fairy. At least I never made my daughters believe I was a sideburned, jumpsuit wearing dead man. Dressed in brown cargo pants, a glitter shrug, and shoes that made her even taller - there was also a rather odd arrangement of hair on her head. I know it wasn't, but I swear the way she had it fixed made it look like a cheap toupee on top of her own long hair. Singing a song I have never heard of  ("Unwritten") was not helped by the fact that I could not understand any words but the chorus. And don't get me started on that dance move she ground out - I swear she looked like a constipated chicken trying to lay an egg.  That being said, I do hope she sticks around - she can seriously sing. I'm just afraid that she is still suffering from LaToya Londonitus - symptoms being a vibrant singing voice, but a dead personality.

One named wonder, Mandisa, was then up, confessing she sucked her thumb till she was 24 and that her teeth turned out fine. Thanks a bunch, Mandisa - two of my kids still fight this bad habit and both of them turned and looked at me as if to say, "See? Ain't no big thang." Fine. I hope you make it huge, girlfriend, cause this is America and now I'm going to sue you for all their orthodontic bills.

Taking the stage to sing Chaka Khan's, I'm Every Woman, Mandisa wore a drapey red top and what's this!?!?! Dear God, not again! JEANS?!?!? Noooooooooooooooooo!!! Honey, I know you have self esteem to spare, but it's not a good look on you. Thankfully she began to sing and blew the roof off the studio. Chaka who? This song belonged to only one woman - the bombastic, gorgeous Mandisa. Based on that vocal - I can completely forgive the jeans. The judges were equally effusive and Simon summed it up best, "Every one of these girls is going to hate your guts. You are simply in a different league." Mandisa, wear what you want - hell, come out in pair of Daisy Dukes next week - you are amazing.

One more $5 million break and - wait, I simply must pause a moment to comment on the Diet Coke commercial. You know, the one where the two people are at the end of a first date, he awkwardly kisses her on the cheek and walks away chugging a Diet Coke. A block down the street he is overcome with carbonated courage, turns and runs back to kiss her full on the mouth. Yeah. Right. Any human being that chugs a Coke, then runs a city block is going to do one thing when they open their mouth, and it is not French Kiss. They are going to man-belch in that person's face. Sorry Coca-Cola, but take this ad campaign back to the drawing room and burp it.

But I digress...

Up last, little Kellie Pickler. Pickles bragged about how much she loves dogs and how smart her dog, Comet, is. Well, most dogs mirror their owners and this one appears to be every bit as smart as Kellie. As the stage burst into flames, Pickles walked out dressed in jeans and a belly baring tank top, blond hair on full alert, to sing Melissa Etheridge's I'm The Only One. Yes, she looked amazing, as usual - you people know I don't argue this point. While she lacks Melissa's emotional growl, she sang it well, even dropping to her knees at one point (poor Kevin had to put his jacket in his lap). She is definitely growing more comfortable and confident on stage. Randy applauded her song choice, Paula stated that guys everywhere are in love with her (yes, if you define "love" as constantly Googling for "Kellie Pickler Naked Pictures"), and Simon called her a "haughty, little minx." Sheeesh, you could see that one fly over her head like an F-16. She had absolutely no idea what he meant. Even after he explained it to her, she still had no concept, declaring, "Ima mink!" No Pickles, you are simply the personification of the term "dumb blond". But America has a woody for you, so I hope you liked your Sal - mon. You'll be around to eat more of it in the weeks to come. Try it next time with a spinach salad...

And so ends tonight's episode. My picks for most likely to be ordering a drink from a flight attendant by the end of the week are: Deep Throat McGhee, Kinnik, and The Jolly Teen Giant. Tomorrow night, the guys! I can't wait to hear what Enquiring mind trivia they impart to the masses. Kevin wears Fruit of the Looms?

Life Is Just Not Fair

Read that column title.

Read it again.

I ask you to read it twice because in some cases, life is truly doubly unfair.

Case in point, the tragic passing of Dana Reeve, widow of the late Christopher Reeve.

In 1995, in the blink of an eye, Dana Reeve went from loving wife and mother to mothering Christopher with every ounce of love she possessed when he was paralyzed in a life altering horse accident.

Her unflinching courage, her unfailing dedication, and her seemingly inexhaustible good humor quickly earned her admiration from all corners of the globe. She never left his side, she cheered him on in his therapy, she nurtured his body as much as she cradled his spirit, and it is not a stretch to say that she was instrumental in not only how long he lived and what he accomplished, but in his quality of life, before he finally succombed in October of 2004.

For the man who was firmly ingrained in the memory of a generation as Superman, Dana Reeve was truly his Superwoman.

After his passing, she held her head high, remained as focused and positive as ever, continuing her work as chair of the Christopher Reeve Foundation, and raising the couple's 13 year old son.

She was an inspiration.

And that's what made her August 2005 announcement, that she had been diagnosed with lung cancer, so very difficult to accept. That someone who had given so much, endured such tragedy, and labored so selflessly could be stricken with one of the most ominous forms of cancer known, was as unfair as it was infuriating.

I remember when I first heard. I was filled with as much pity for her, as indignation on her behalf. The world is overflowing with worthless, criminal, pathologic, thieving, monsterish, inhuman wastes of flesh who somehow manage to cruise through life without a scrape, yet this woman who deserved nothing but happiness, was being made to walk another impossibly rocky piece of road. And my heart broke for her young son. No child should have to watch as both his parents waste away before him.

She immediately entered treatment for the tumor, and as recent as four months ago, looked remarkably healthy, saying she was responding to treatment and that mercifully her tumor was shrinking.

"I'm beating the odds and defying every statistic the doctors can throw at me," Reeve said then. "My prognosis looks better all the time."

She was asked, as so many of us wondered, how she kept her spirits up, how she didn't rail against the fates or curse God for her affliction. Reeve simply stated she "had a great model. I was married to a man who never gave up."

Dana lost her fight with lung cancer late Monday at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Medical Center in New York.

She has left this world for a better one, and while her physical presence is no longer with us, her indomitable spirit lives on as an example of the power of the human heart in the face of adversity, and a reminder that each day is not only for living, it is worth living - to its fullest.

(Oh...and that life is really just not fair.)

In Memory of Dana Reeve, a Super Woman Who Has Joined Her Superman

Hot For Teacher? Yes, Because She's Going To Hell

The world is full of all kinds of people. Fat, thin, tall, short, wise, dim, aggressive, submissive, attractive, and well, not so much to look at.

It makes this big blue marble a rather interesting place to live. Quite frankly, if we were all alike, things would get rather boring, rather fast. I firmly believe that it is our differences, not our commonalities that make life intriguing.

And when it comes to bedroom behaviors, I really couldn't care less if someone digs leather and someone else likes toe jam, if one person bops to Barry White or another person is turned on by Barry Manilow, or if one individual enjoys body paints & whipped cream while another indulges in furry handcuffs and assless chaps.

As long as it's between two consenting adults, in the privacy of their own kink palace, go for it.

However, there are some inhabitants of this planet, whose idiosyncrasies, compulsions, and fetishes make me think that a little more commonality might not be a bad thing, and that the only sex game they should be allowed to play is a fatal version of the choking game.

I'll provide the belt. 

Meet today's nominee for Pathetic Piece of Excrement: Khemwattie Bedessie, a 37 year old daycare worker in Queens, New York.

Khemwattie is currently being held without bail on one count of first-degree rape, six counts of first-degree sexual abuse and one count of endangering the welfare of a child.

The child in question is a four year old little boy who attended the daycare, Veda's Learning World.

Yes, apparently Bedessie likes 'em young.

And while this story, sadly, is not shocking - face it, these scenarios are uncovered everyday across this country - this one goes to a whole different level based on her statements to police.

Khemwattie maintains that it was not only consensual, but that he seduced her.

He. Seduced. Her.

Four years old.

She went on to defend herself, accusing the boy of instigating the events, saying he "called her to the bathroom" and "knew what he was doing."

Um, hel-lo? If a four year old calls you to the bathroom, chances are good it's because they need help wiping their ass, not because they are looking for a blow job.

And as for knowing "what he was doing"? Do 4 year old boys even know they have a penis?

"She knew what she was doing but she couldn't help herself," prosecutor Dianna Megias told Criminal Court Judge Mary O'Donoghue, summarizing Bedessie's confession to cops.

Couldn't help herself? It sounds to me like she helped herself alot, as this was not a one time encounter with the child.

But back to the whole "he seduced me" thing. How, Khemwatta? Did he use his smooth moves and a way with nursey rhymes to melt your butter?

"Hickory, dickory dock, would you like to play with my ..."

"Hey baby, wanna see what's in my Huggies Pull-ups?"

Give me a break. A four year old boy can seduce no one. Hell, most 40 year old men still have trouble seducing someone.

That she defends herself by accusing the child is one thing, but that she has an equally repulsive piece of shit attorney defending her actions? Well, this is one of those times when I fervently pray there is a special level of Hell - Hell XXX, if you will, just waiting to welcome and incinerate the souls of these wastes of flesh.

Here on earth, she faces 25 years in prison. That's not enough. Not by half.

But then, when it comes to any type of abuse against a child, I believe death is pretty much too good for the criminal. Children are to be protected, not pimped out. They should be nurtured, not used for some perverted sex game. And they should remain innocent, not be subjected to the grown up sexual and selfish whims of the people who are supposed to care for them. That anyone can even look at a child and see them in a sexual capacity? That person deserves only one thing: a bullet right into the deepest part of their warped, demented cerebrum.

The child is reportedly traumatized, but then take a good look at that picture. That would traumatize full grown men. His parents are understandably devastated - devastated being code for: want to see her fat, depraved ass fry.

And in a world where we are all so very different, I would say they have found something in common with a great many people.

American Idol Results Show Recap, Thursday, March 2: Watching Brenna Get Hers

I was walking through my local Walmart this morning, minding my own business, listening to some tunes on my iPod, when I was suddenly taken ill. The feeling to vomit came over me so swiftly, you would have thought I had swallowed a pitcher of Chocolate Martinis in one gulp (not that I would know what that feels like...).

Do I suffer from extreme acid reflux?

Had I eaten something bad - like old potato salad or a pound of sugar-free jelly beans??

Do I have bird flu?

No, no and no. Rather, what cranked my bile factory into overdrive was spying the ever swarmy countenance of Constantine Maroulis staring back at me from the cover of American Idol magazine.

('Scuse me...I feel it coming up again...)

Seriously, the look on his face was so greasy and violating, I practically slipped in it, and me out and about without my Life Alert.

"Help! I've fallen and I can't throw up!"

I tell you, between the butt chin and the eyes that practically have tongues of their own, he is still enough to make my retinas need a bath in Clorox.

Thankfully, tonight, it wasn't that former contestant making a reappearance on the Idol stage, rather Carrie Underwood was on hand to sing her country hit, Jesus Take The Wheel (and run over Brenna Gethers).

But I'm getting ahead of myself - sorry - just the idea of Ms. B getting thrown under the bus gets me excited.

Onto the recap...

Welcome to tonight's edition of Pilates Idol, where we streeeeeeeeetttttccccchhhh the inner core of the show (the 30 seconds that are actually relevant) in order to achieve greater balance and tone in the muscles of the American Idol bank accounts.

With the lights dimmed, Ryan welcomed us to the show as the camera panned past the faces of the assembled contestants. They all looked suitably somber and "Death Row" except for Brenna whose hair was so teased out that she resembled a mushroom cap with teeth and rhinestones.

With 42 million votes last night, Idol fans burned up the phone lines while simultaneously torching the dreams of four of the wannabes. But, of course, before we can get to the creamy filling of this bloated TV twinkie, we had to endure "THE GROUP SONG". I tell you, I can almost see why Thing 1 Brittenum doesn't do groups - these things are painful to watch.

Singing Love The One You're With, the girls took the lead tonight, with the guys singing needless back up - and what's this!?!? - Choreography?!?! Poor Bucky, you could see him counting out the steps. One, two, four, seven...

Smurfette was dressed as a banana and working her Dorothy Hamill flip again, while Ms. Cox was channeling Rock Star Barbie with flowing crimped locks and her tarantulashes glued firmly in place. A word for Lisa T: I adore you, but it's time to retire the tank tops. I know they pack well, but the double tank top look needs a fork stuck in it - it's done. Brief looks at the guys showed Taylor having fun (when doesn't he have fun?) and Chris looking like he was about ready to hurl - either from the severe uncoolness of singing that crap, or maybe Constantine was in the crowd...

Then, there she was - Mandisa - and I found myself screaming at the screen, "Nooooooooooo!" Look, I LOVE her confidence and powerhouse vocals, and have repeatedly lauded her ability to dress her abundant frame with such class and discretion, that her size is simply a nonissue - then there she was in a strapless top and JEANS. I'm sorry, but it was SO NOT a good look and completely overshadowed anything she may have been singing. Mandisa, I love that you are black and sassy, but please, when it comes to your wardrobe, stick to black and classy.

AFTER. THE. BREAK. those of you without TiVo had to endure an entire video recap of the past two night's performances. I, however, happily sped through - slowing down only to watch Chris heat things up again - the guy is awesome.

Ryan then welcomed Season 4 American Idol Carrie Underwood to the stage. Carrie, who was the epitome of robotic and mechanical for much of last season, has truly come a long way. Still not much in the talking department, but when she sang her hit song, it was truly well done, with emotion to spare. The only thing I did not like was that abstract blue dress with the peek-a-boob center.

Another break finally brought us back to what we came to see: The Couches of Carnage. The girls were assembled thusly:

Back Row: Lisa, Ayla, Katherine, Mandisa and Kinnik

Front Row: Mushroom Head, Pickles, Smurfette, Barbie and Melissa <---see? It's not good that she does not yet have a nickname. That means she's forgettable.

Dimming the lights to pull the bottom three to the stage, Ryan quickly put Lisa, Ayla and Katherine out of their misery - they were SAFE.

Kinnik, however, dressed tonight as a constellation, was not, and headed down to oRyan. She was quickly followed by Brenna. I do believe it was now that I began to hum the Hallelujah chorus...

Kellie was next on the chopping block, and even though Ryan tried to drag it out, even Pickles could do the math and figure she was SAFE, as was Smurfette. You know, I really like results night - Smurfette doesn't get to talk.

That left Barbie and Melissa-Who-Needs-A-Nickname. Luckily, she'll be around for at least another week while I figure one out - it was Barbie who was in the bottom three.

Ryan was fairly quick about the next step: Kinnik and Barbie sit down. Brenna, get the hell off the stage.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a quick, humane death - rather, it was long, painful, agonizing and brutal - for us. Brenna thanked her fan (I find it hard to believe there was more than one) and then launched into her most deluded statement yet, "I'm ready to make some money. So Clive (Davis), call Nigel (Lythgoe), let's make some money."

Brenna, the only way you're going to make money with their help is if they pimp on the side.

She then added that we should look for her album soon, and, "Let's make some good music America." Psst, Bren, I think that's the point of kicking you off - so we can get on to making good music each week.

She strutted around while reprising Last Dance (thank God it is for her) and I lost track of how many time she smacked her own ass.

I was so glad there was then a commercial break - so I could go wipe up my tears of joy.

We came back to see Heather and Kinnik flanking Ryan, the lights dramatically flashing up and down. Ryan then asked Paula what went wrong with their performances and she began to babble something, attributing it to Simon, that, "one of them had eaten salad and the other had eaten pizza." What the fu..?

Seriously, what was that all about? Poor Barbie is standing there ready to vomit on Ryan, Kinnik was ready to bitchslap Ms. Abdul, and they are making inside jokes? Grow up, guys.

Simon gave his guess that Heather would be going home and...

Simon was right.

She thanked everyone, talked about being grateful and going home to her goats and then sang.

You know, I always find this moment to be especially cruel, yet I always admire the contestants' ability to do it. I mean, there you are, your dreams have just been crushed, you have a watermelon sized lump of tears in your throat, but here's a microphone - SING.

Barbie's eyes glistened brightly as she finished, yet as sad as it was, I have a feeling she has more than just goats in her furture - she is gorgeous - at the very least, I would look for her in a Pantene ad soon.

Another break and the guys were assembled on the Divans of Demise:

Back Row: Bucky, Ace, Elliott, Jose, Taylor

Front Row: Egghead, Fred Savage, Gedeon, Chris, and Harry Connick Radford

Ryan worked his way through the guys, asking each one if they thought they were in the bottom three. Actually he was really being a divining rod of arrogance - seeing who would have the stones to say "Not me."

Bucky was first, and found out that he will be forced to eat seaweed and creme brulee for another week - he is SAFE.

Ace actually looked scared - and if this is just an act, I recommend he keep it up - it is endearing to see one of the "beautiful people" unsure. Of course - collective DUH from the congregation, please - he was SAFE, as was Elliott who appeared to be wearing a beat up leather sports coat with killer collar, circa Starsky & Hutch..

Jose was unable to "sway" as many viewers and was in the bottom three. However Taylor has the strength of the Soul Patrol and will be around for many weeks to come.

Harry Connick joined Jose on the stage, Chris was SAFE (no kidding), and then Ryan's divining rod struck pure arrogance and I remembered why I did not like Gedeon. His answer to "Do you think you're in the bottom three?" A cocky "No sir." He wasn't, but with ego like that, he soon will be.

Fred Savage was deemed SAFE, but Mr. Sex Symbol, Egghead Covais was called to the stage. The little nerdlet was actually surprised - you don't think he is actually buying into this "sexy" thing, do you?

Harry Connick was the first to receive the ax, crooned his last croon on the AI stage, and then was joined by all the contestants, hugging him and saying goodbye.

(Hey Brenna, I notice they didn't move an inch for you, babe. Why is that?)

One more commercial and Kevin and Jose were back at center stage. Finishing up our Pilates class, Ryan sttttttttttttttttttrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeetttccccchhhhhheeeeeeddddd it out as long as he could, asking Paula for her input once again, and I SWEAR - there is no doubt in my mind - she was on something. Seriously, she swayed more than Jose, babbled crap about "melons, cornflakes and a moth" and then leaned all over Simon while giggling nonstop.

Again, these kids might not be the next Bon Jovi or Steven Tyler, but they deserve a little more respect than that.

The upshot? Jose was sent home, but not before singing one more time. He, too, was joined by the rest of the Idols (fallen and otherwise) at the end, and it was as pathetic as it was predictable to see Brenna pushing her way to the front of the pack for one last skanky pose for the cameras, which she did while constantly making the money sign: rubbing her fingers together. I swear she looked like a cheap hooker on the Las Vegas strip who can be had for half a cup of quarters.

Next week will bring us 16 singers, four more eliminations, Paula's two boobs a popping and a partridge in a pear tree. Then things can really heat up as the guys and girls prepare to go head to head in the final 12.

But that's a whole week away. For now, I would just like to bask in the glory that is NO MORE BRENNA.

America, I'm proud of you. Now, let's all "bling, bling and shine on."

American Idol Recap, Wednesday, March 1st: The Bald & The Beautiful

You know how things come to you in the middle of the night? Revelations like, "Oops, I forgot to pay the Visa bill.", "Wow, I should never eat four burritos so close to bedtime." and "Sleeping pills and laxatives really are not a good combination.", just seem to float through your cerebrum easier in the dead of night.

Well, I had just such a creative awakening over the weekend when my mind finally nailed who sweet little embryonic Kevin Covais reminds me of

Tell me I'm wrong.

But onto tonight's recap...

After completely butchering the word "cornucopia" (note to producers: Ryan is like Ron Burgundy - he will read anything you put on the teleprompters - regardless of whether he knows what it means or how to pronounce it), Ryan welcomed us to Boys' Night and a video recap of all of last night's female performances. I watched and am more convinced than ever than Brenna Gethers is the reason I have not been sleeping well lately. Those eyebrows, that hard etched face - she is like a drag queen version of the Grinch.

A quick hello to the judges revealed something, well...revealing. Notice how Paula's outfit, when the girls sang last evening, was fairly subdued? Beige, conservative (for her), even had a little lace on the sleeves? And tonight, when the guys would be looking down at her, she was dressed in something from a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog? Tight, plunging, gold lame', her breasts once again fighting with one another for camera time - basically the neon "ACE LOOK HERE" sign she wore last week when he sang.

Seriously, there are issues of Playboy without that much breast tissue hanging out.

Sadly for Simon, she had moved back into her regular seat and began hitting him again even before the first performance. You know, Paula - maybe that's why you can't get or keep a man - they don't all like being beaten to death.

Thank God Taylor Hicks was up first. I know, I know, I always say that going first is not a good thing on this show, but drawing the short straw is not going to hurt Mr. Soul Patrol, who sang Easy by The Commodores. In his video clip, he talked about how "being recognized is really weird" and that his silver hair is like a flashing light, which he covers with a toboggan when he wants to escape notice. A toboggan? Psst, Taylor....a toboggan is a sled, not a hat. No matter, you could wear a sled on your head and we'd still adore you. Dressed in a pinstripe suit, with a lovely green spotlight concentrated on his shiny locks, he jazzed up the song with a nice sprinkling of Taylor trademark Woo's and Whoa's. And while it may have been a bit on the safe side, Bo Bice was in the house and is obviously a member of the Soul Patrol too - he loved it. I won't even recap what the judges said because it simply doesn't matter - Taylor is here to stay.

Next up was my Amish buggy driver, Elliott Yamin, who shared his Kellie Pickler sob story via video, about his Mom getting really sick the day before he came to Hollywood. Obviously, she made a full recovery and could be seen beaming in the front row while he sang Moody's Mood For Love. I admit I did not recognize the song, but was thoroughly enchanted throughout. He makes it look easy, with singing so effortless and smooth - heck, even the sweater vest was the perfect choice. Randy called him "brilliant" and lauded his "amazing gift", while Paula gave him two boobs up. Simon stuck to thumbs and a "great performance" compliment.

In his video, Ace explained the "beanie" he always carries in his back pocket - yes, something that you people constantly Google about. It's simply his comfort, his good luck charm, if you will. Sure, it's a tad strange, but let's be honest - Ace could carry a wad of excrement in his back pocket and women would still swoon. Dressed in a simple black shirt with white stripes, and jeans, he sang If I'm Not Made For You and had all those women screaming, "You are! You are made for me, Ace! Just stop looking at Paula's boobs! Yes, those were made too, but in a mad scientist's lab!" I wasn't blown away by the vocals, and found the bright purple spotlights in his hair a bit distracting, but the boy can sing and he genuinely emotes when he does. Where he oozes sex appeal, Constantine Maroulis just oozed. Randy liked that he showed more vocal range and Paula just showed more cleavage, starting her critique with a sleezy, "Hel-lo Ace..." which earned her a "Careful" from Simon. Seriously, someone pour some cold water on her and keep her on a leash. And Ace, lock your door at night.

The surprise of the night for me came in the form of Gedeon McKinney. He may have lamented forgetting his lyrics during Hollywood week, but he was right on the money tonight singing A Change Is Comin Down. It started a tad slow, but when he hit his knees midway through, it was hard to believe such a seasoned performance was coming from a teenager. The action and vocals ramped up and stayed powerful right to his glory note at the end. I seriously had seen him being killed off this week, but after tonight, I think he earned a stay of execution. Randy loves that he is a "great, natural performer", Paula said "You are unique, you are different..." (same thing - someone please get her a Thesaurus - she is running out of words), and Simon called him a "funny little thing", but that it was a "very, very good performance".

AFTER. THE. BREAK we came back to Ryan namedropping rappers and then including "resident gangsta" Kevin Covais. I about snorted milk through my nose at that one. In his video he talked about being the "nice, safe guy" in his high school, but that he is now a sex symbol...to 12 year olds. Yeah, so is R. Kelly, Kevin - watch out. The video ended with him saying, "Hey ladies, how's it going'?" and then winking. I about lost my lunch - he looks way too much like a 10 year old boy, and that was just gross. Baby boy was dressed head to toe in brown Garanimals to sing Marvin Gaye's I Heard It Through The Grapevine. I will give him this - he looked much less petrified than last week (I guess hundreds of emails from prepubes will do that for a guy's confidence), and seemed to be enjoying himself, but the constant bouncing was irritating. Then again, it was probably better than if he had tried to dance. Randy loved it, Paula said he is "infectious" - yeah, so is pink eye, Paula, and Simon offered up a reality check that it was not the best he's heard.

Then Ryan introduced a split screen of Kevin and his double, Chicken Little. I would like it on the record right now that I had my revelation on February 25th and that, point of fact, I think he looks much more like Egghead from the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons, especially with the hair, matching shirt, and microphone I so lovingly added in.

Next was America's favorite pimp, Jose Sway Penala. No hat or velvet this week, opting instead for a white leather jacket. I'm sorry, he's just a bit greasy for me, which is odd considering he has no hair. Singing Stevie Wonder's Overjoyed, I wasn't. In fact, I was more enthralled by the colonoscopy screensaver that played behind him (I swear I saw a piece of broccoli float by) than I was with his singing. I agree with Simon - there was zero originality, and I imagine, pretty close to zero votes tonight.

After another commercial break, Fred Savage waxed rhapsodic about walking the red carpet and a party he attended, the highlight of which, for him, was meeting Justin Guarini (from season one) and having his picture taken with him. Uh, Fred, I guarantee you Justin was more excited to be having his picture taken with you. He chose to sing Kenny Rogers' Lady tonight, and I just have to say, that unless you have a full growth of pubic hair, you should not take on a song like that. Kenny's version is full of sex and raw passion, whereas Fred's version was full of .. well, what exactly is the opposite of sex and raw passion? Paula Abdul? The judges were not impressed either, Simon saying he would do well with the 11 year old girls in the viewing audience. Uh Simon, his demographic swings lower than that - my nine year old thinks this kid hung the moon and had demanded I not go to bed till I vote for him 50 times again.

The inbred cousin of Bo Bice and Carrie Underwood, Bucky Covington, was up next. In his video, he went all Kellie Pickler, complaining about the food in California. I swear, the way these kids talk, you would think they were in the Orient being served monkey brains out of a still warm head. I think he and Kellie should hook up when they get voted off and live happily ever after back in Armpit, USA, eating at KFC and Luby's. Decked out in a ponytail, eagle t-shirt and jeans, he sang Garth Brooks' ode to spousal abuse and murder, Thunder Rolls. Ahhh, family entertainment at its best. Happily they cut out the cheating and killing parts, which made it seem like a hard rocking meteorology report, but at least the kids at home could watch it. He started out really well, but when he hit the forecast for rolling thunder, his voice experience a power outage. The judges liked that he's "different" and is "finding himself", but I think within two weeks he will be finding himself back at Aunt Bea's chicken shack eating food he's not afraid of. Psst, hey Bucky! Smoked Red Pepper Flan with Wasabi Encrusted Halibut on a bed of garlic infused polenta. Ha! Made you flinch!

Harry Connick Radford was next with a sad story about having to hold his pants up with a cell phone charger. Man, you have to know this boy is boring when that's the best video clip they can offer us. Singing Frank Sinatra's The Way You Look Tonight, I thought he sounded every bit the crooner-Rat Packer he likes to play. His voice is smooth, easy, and to his credit, he performed with far less facial tics that last week, but the judges called it for what it was, "Boring". My daughters think he is adorable, but someone has to go home tomorrow night and he is a prime candidate for the train ride back to obscurity.

Finally. FINALLY. Like Mandisa last night, they saved the best for last. Chris Daughtry. There is something just so damned likable about this man. Maybe it's the fact that he's a Dad and doesn't lose sight of that. Maybe it's the way he carries off an intentionally bald pate. Or maybe, like Bo - it's the way he owns the stage when he's on it. Singing Fuel's Hemmorage (not exactly Radio Disney fare), he took 30 million people on a ride they haven't taken since Bo rocked the stage in his flip flops and sunglasses. And you gotta know Bo was sitting there loving every minute of Chris' performance. Frankly, all I could think, all I wrote down was, "He IS a star." I think the car dealership where he works back home had better place a Help Wanted ad to fill his position, cause this boy is never coming back to 9-5 again.

If I had to predict, I would say Jose and David will be walking the Green Mile tomorrow night. Egghead's just too much of a sex symbol (watch out Ace), Taylor is simply "the man" and Gedeon can throw down the Motown like no one else in this competition (seriously, Egghead channeling Marvin Gaye was just WRONG).

Tune in tomorrow night as we endure a group song and endless video recaps before the results. Then again, maybe I shouldn't complain, after all, they haven't started making the Ford commercials yet...