Ryan asks Simon why he doesn't just pick the songs themselves, since Simon "always" bitches about song choice -- which isn't true, that's usually Paula or Randy since they have usually no thoughts in their heads -- and Simon says maybe he will, and they can have Simon Cowell Week on American Idol. But please: just like when you asked your parents why there's Mother's Day and Father's Day but no Children's Day and they said everyday is Children's Day, that is why there will never be Simon Cowell Week on this show. Although four hours of this crap is sort of like the same thing.
It's not just me, is it? The girls are really hard to tell apart this year? So Von Smith still looks like a child from a Molly Ringwald movie, Taylor is wearing the delightful sack dress/shiny pants combo that can't help but make you sick to look at, Alex is here to help you with your geometry proofs, Arianna has not one breast but two, Ju'Not is smarmy and looks like the uncle on a sitcom, Kristen is one Five Hour Energy drink away from beating her family members up on Springer if that show's even still on, Nathaniel is a little piece of hell right here on earth, Felicia has some hips and a shiny shirt to show them off. This is where I will crack, I can feel it: right here at around the 90-minute mark, right before Scott, who holds hands with dudes like some kind of homo, Kendall who has an herbal garden centerpiece attached to herself, Jorge's face still pissing me off, and Lil Rounds who will be singing last because that's how it was written over two hundred years ago in the Book of Duh.
Continue reading this entry on Television Without Pity.