Boys - FOUR of the Top 24, and that's all.

So this is going to be relatively short & sweet, and I’m bitchy as hell about it. Somehow, and I think it had to do with the holiday on Monday, I completely spaced that last night was American Idol night and missed the first 20 minutes of the show. “It’s no real loss, Scarlet.” I told myself. Yes, I call myself Scarlet. Let’s move on. I thought it would be no real loss because I could still an hour and 40 minutes of Idol. *Or so I thought.

So I started my night with the skin-crawlingly nauseating vocal stylings of David Cook. Not my favorite way to start any evening.

David Cook – Tag! Was this our first instance of camera fuckery? I believe it might have been! David gives me the monkey nerves with that freakish, creepy, flat-ironed, thin hair that looks like a bad comb-over to cover up his 25 year old male pattern baldness. I almost can’t get past the hair. Or the camera fucking. I didn’t love his rendition of The Turtles’ “Happy Together” as much as the judges did; I didn’t love it at all, actually. I thought it was screamy and yelly and really, really pitchy. He was trying to reach specific notes while shrieking but was unable to attain said specific notes, so settled for lesser, crappier notes in the completely wrong key. And the camera fucking? Dios mio! It was enough to induce a violent attack of OCD, causing me to check and recheck the locks on all of my doors. Shades of "If she were Columbo, I'd Peter Falk her." Seriously.

Jason Yeager – I didn’t realize this guy was from Grand Prairie, which borders my hometown of Irving, Texas. Or that he has one of those weird Sixth Sense locks of gray hair, which is proof positive that he sees dead people. I’m all about the dudes’ hair tonight and how stabby it makes me. I thought his performance of “Moon River” was completely and utterly snooze worthy. Monumental bore and maddeningly Andy Williams-esque. He sang it like a member of a frat boy’s chorus, for the love of God. Should have been wearing a letter sweater. Simon pegged it with “cruise ship”. Simon – call me.

Robbie Carrico – I haven’t been very impressed by Robbie Carrico so far, and his performance tonight definitely was not the performance that changed my mind. He reminds me of any drunk guy in any karaoke bar in any city. You know the guy: he gets tanked on Old Milwaukee and sings “Freebird” because he’s just drunk enough to believe he should be in a band. I don’t like the tone of his voice and he doesn’t seem to have much control over it. Sang “One” by Three Dog Night. Randy liked it, which cements my theory that Randy is indeed retarded and in need of supervision. Clearly he can’t make responsible decisions left on his own.

David Archuleta – OMGWTFBBQ? What happened, sweet little David? He definitely needs to sing in a higher register than his version of “Shop Around” required. The judges were sloppin’ sugar all over him up in that bitch though; Simon labeled it as the best performance of the evening so far. Was I the only one who heard him going through puberty? You could actually hear his sack drop. He’s cute as a bug though, so I can’t help but like him, and he seems so genuinely overwhelmed and excited by the whole thing. It’s sort of sweet. God, what’s wrong with me?!

And that’s when the picture went out. I could hear Danny Noriega trying unsuccessfully to sound butch while murdering "Jailhouse Rock", but I couldn’t see him. Nor could I see Paula when she prattled on and on about colors and bunnies. The drugs must have kicked in. Maybe it's best that all of my senses weren't lambasted by Paula...

*And that’s when the CABLE went out and since I’m “bundled”, the internets went as well. Bye-bye. Later. See ya, maybe. Which is awesome. My cable company is the devil. The cable and internet came back on sometime over night I guess, because it was back on at 6am this morning when it woke me up. Thanks, huge billion dollar cable corporation for not only wrecking my viewing pleasure, but for waking me up too, fuckers.