Oh the tears, the pain, the drama. This is what watching a shitty reality TV show will bring up, so I suppose I’d better get over it. Admittedly, a lot of these people at this stage have genuine performance talent (not creative talent, which I obviously admire more). I mean, they can actually sing. I’m impressed with most. Don’t tell anyone.
First off, let me get something out of the way, as i know this might be the first Unreality post you read. Here’s who got through tonight: Big Mike, Dede, Katelyn, Shirtless Casey, Aaron, Lee, Todrick. Blah, blah, blah. Happy now?
I won’t go through each contender, that’s Gerard’s job, but there were some I was honestly invested in seeing how they did. Before that, let’s talk about the room divide. Surely, any sane person would look around, realize the people they were sitting with were shite, and conclude, quelle surprise, that they were also shite. Ummm, nope, they did not. They were shell-shocked when Simon dropped the Mediocre bomb. Did none of them see Mary Power Bitch’s crap-tastic performance of Hot n’ Cold? Were they completely ignorant of her horrible attitude? Come on!
Ah ha ha, cry in the toilet, bitches, cry!
So the other rooms got through, then the actual culling began, the judges tried their best to reach over the strategically placed cups of Vitamin Water Zero to get to the polaroids. Here’s where I truly gave a shit, about only few select people. I really wanted Aaron the world’s only grateful teenager©, to get through, and despite his lyricdistrophy, he did! Unfortunately, so did Mr Sellhissoultothedevil, Casey. At least this time he didn’t have to take his shirt off. I hope the rest of the competition isn’t dictated by Kara’s va-jay-jay. Finally, Shelby, with the facial disfigurement, was kicked to the curb. I am honestly gutted at this, as I thought she put in a great final performance, despite her nerves, and is truly a ballsey chick, but Gerard, you were right. My conviction of her character is confirmed by her walking away strong, and with her dignity intact. All I’m left to do is to try really hard to pretend that the following awareness advert by the Children’s Craniofacial Association is just a coincidence.
That’s it. That’s all I gave a crap about. Sure, I was ready to be sick after the fourth rendition of Man in the Mirror (A lot of Idol hopefuls looking in the mirror? – so strange!), and the sixth massacre of I’m Yours (Having heard it live, twice, I’m surprised Mraz hasn’t nuked the Kodak Theatre), but that is about as much feeling as the two hours of soul-destroying “entertainment” that Idol could muster.
Oh yeah, and Todrick got through. Cocky bastard.