I was about to write that this is the gayest season of American Idol, but then I remembered Gayken’s season. Gayken has the power of ten thousand gays inside him. So this is the second gayest season! One of the bitches you can thank for that is Nathaniel Marshall and his PP-inspired headband. I just want to take that headband, stretch it back and then release. If it hits him in the head hard enough it might make his eyes pop out. Bitch always has those beady mole eyes!
Nathaniel really should have sang “Let’s Hear It For the Boy,” but he did Meat Loaf’s “I Will Do Anything for Love.” You know, I feel like Nathaniel stumbled into the wrong reality show. Bitch should be on RuPaul’s Drag Race. While watching him skip around last night, I kept thinking that I really want to see him with a wig on his head and a big dress on his body. The gods above might have brought him into this world just so he could play Edna Turnblad in Haispray. He could play that role now until the end of his days. Bitch doesn’t have a chance in Simon Cowell furry chichi hell tonight. He’s out. Well, he’s already out OUT (his wrist did the honors), but he’s not going any further.
It’s obvious that the two whores the judges popped jizz balls over are going on. Lil Rounds and Blind Scott sealed it up. They were both just alright. Not amazing. Just, eh. I had a hard time concentrating on Lil Round’s voice, because I was so mesmerized by that ASS! I could serve Thanksgiving dinner for 12 on that ass. It’s fucking amazing. As for Scott, he could have sang The Most Offensive Song from South Park and he would still get through. By the way, Paula Abdul has no idea he’s blind, right?
The third spot will either go to that chick with bangs who was brought back from the dead or Jorge from Puerto Rico. If Jorge goes on, can they please bring a chola into his life to fix those eyebrows. It looks like Vadge’s vintage sascrotch sat above his eyes. I just want to take an Epilady to those things!
And I am so over that Kara Dioguardi bitch! She doesn’t open her mouth all the way when she talks and she always says, “I don’t know what kind of artist you are.” BITCH! They are going to be whatever artist the American Idol evil lords want them to be. They don’t have any say. Ugh. Someone please sprinkle Vicodin dust on her, so Paula can throw her up in the air, catch her with her mouth and swallow her whole!