Sing it, sister!

Finally. The boring-ass auditions are over and we can get to the real show. I tend to skip the William Hung weeks of American Idol. I just can’t get down with all that “get a load of this guy who thinks he can sing” stuff. Except for the Crime Twins. They were fun for a while.

The Women

My TiVo subject line reads “Twelve female ho.” I know it’s middle-school of me, but that makes me laugh. When I hit the “select” button on the remote I get, “Twelve female hopefuls blah blah blah,” but I like the first one better.

First up is Mandisa, 29, from Antioch, Tenn., the one Simon called fat. This made Mandisa cry. But much like Jesus did when they called him fat, Mandisa forgave Simon. Now, I’m fat myself so I’m just gonna lay it down here: Mandisa is fat. And if this woman thinks show business is going to be all “we love you, you big beautiful woman,” she’s got another thing coming and will possibly end up hooked on dolls and married to David Gest—after Da Brat gets done with him. Mandisa sings Heart’s “Never” while wearing a Communism-red Valentine’s Day sex-teddy and a black skort. She’s a yeller, and Paula says, “You broke the record for magnificent.” Paula is the best sentence-maker on this show, possibly in the history of television.

Kellie Pickler, 19, from Albemarle, N.C., is shown lying on a leopard-print bedspread talking about her messed-up relationship with her father. That’s why she’s going to sing a song about making a romantic relationship work with a difficult man—“How Far” by Martina McBride, the most boring female country singer of all time, right after Faith Hill. You can tell a lot about these AI kids from their song choices. But KP is adorable, buttery, and petite, and even though she squats when she sings and looks like a “mean girl,” I don’t hate her yet. She also says “Pick Pickler!” when Seacrest gets up onstage with her. It didn’t work for her student council election banners, but it might work here.

Becky O’Donohue, 25, from Dobbs Ferry, N.Y., has sex hair, tangled and messy. She reminds me of Brittany from America’s Next Top Model a couple seasons back, all porny and “here for the party.” She is the Womanimal. She sings “Because the Night” like she’s going to jump off the stage and begin gnawing on someone’s leg. That would be appropriate for a Womanimal, transformed by the moon into a feral singing lady werewolf. Then it doesn’t happen. None of my fondest wishes ever come true. Paula tells her she had some “notes off.” One of these girls has to be a dyke, right? Just statistically speaking? I’d love it if it were Becky. I’m bad at lezdar, though, so I’m probably wrong.

Ayla Brown, 17, from Wrentham, Mass., is nine feet tall, gorgeous, and a basketball jock/prom queen/senator’s daughter, or some infuriating combination like that. She’s a dullard, of course—thank God—and decides to tackle “Reflection,” a song sung by Christina Aguilera on the Mulan soundtrack. Mulan is one of Ayla’s favorite movies. She probably owned it on Disney DVD in elementary school and watched it 4,000 times. She explains why Mulan is her role model: “Mulan had to overcome so many hardships being the only woman in the army.” Oh, you mean all those Cartoon Land hardships? The ones that never happened? Paula tells Ayla she made the song her own, which is Paula’s way of saying, “In lieu of a stronger prescription medication, which I am no longer allowed to have, you might be successful in putting me to sleep each night with your very average singing. Let’s discuss putting you on the payroll.”

Paris Bennett (pictured), 17, from Fayetteville, Ga., is my new favorite lady. First of all, she’s so cute I want to eat her face. Plus she’s got incredible Stacy Lattisaw ’79 hair, a raspy squeak of a speaking voice, makes crazy “can you believe this shit?” faces when she knocks “Midnight Train to Georgia” out of the park, bounces around a lot just like Fantasia did, and just seems SO DAMN HAPPY TO BE ALIVE that I am now her robot servant boy. She wins. If she doesn’t win, I will go outside and start fires in my neighborhood.

Stevie Scott, 19, from Fair Oaks, Calif., likes to rub her opera training in everyone’s face. Yeah, big whoop, Sarah Brightman, thanks for the awesome limp-along death march of a Josh Groban song you just mewled for all of us. Where can I find a screwdriver to stab myself in the ears? I hate all music forever now. Paula comes to Stevie’s defense when Simon calls her performance a “complete and utter mess,” giving Simon that pained “why do you have be so mean, EMILIO?” face.

Brenna Gethers, 25, from “money-earnin’ Mt. Vernon,” N.Y., is this year’s Kimberly Caldwell. If you watch AI in the same obsessive manner in which I watch AI, then you remember Kimberly C. as the blond aggressive camera hog to end all blond aggressive camera hogs. Brenna is very “Tits Up!” at all times and super into herself. I don’t remember anything about her song, just her pouting, vogueing, and tongue-flicking at—ew, gross—Simon. I feel sexually harassed by her and worry that she exists in the same city that I’m in right now. When the Pussycat Dolls start thinking they’re all talented enough to have solo careers, she could be first in line to replace one of them.

Heather Cox, 22, from Jonesville, N.C., is very, very nice. And sucky. So is Melissa McGhee, 21, from Tampa, Fla., who chooses—ACK—a Faith Hill song after announcing that it was going to be the moment that “America will finally see just who I really am.” The revelation, in song, of Melissa’s true inner self inspires me to go to the kitchen in search of a snack, but a certain domestic partner of mine has already polished off the last of the Karamel Sutra Ben & Jerry’s. “You made it your own,” says Paula [see translation above], who by the way is looking rad tonight with teased-up June Carter hair.

Lisa Tucker, 16, from Anaheim, Calif., goes for Jennifer Holliday’s “I Am Changing.” I get the feeling this kid is already “in the biz” and has probably sung in a few McDonald’s ads or something. She has fresh-faced-zero-personality-very-very-very-good-singer vibrations coming out of every pore like too much Mary-Kate and Ashley perfume. Also that old-school vibrato that shouts Broadway and makes me want to go listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to cleanse my palette.

Kinnik Sky, 28, from Duluth, Ga., eases her way into “Get Here” by Oleta Adams. Kinnik, however, ain’t gonna get there if she keeps bringing the “fancy lady at the cabaret in an elegant gown and sparkling diamanté tiara” moments. Ask LaToya London how well it worked for her.

And finally, Katharine McPhee, 21, from Sherman Oaks, Calif., makes an old Barbra Streisand song—she says, anyway; I’ve never heard it before—into something resembling a blues number. Well, blues via a 21-year-old white-girl graduate of Ridgemont High. Anyway, she’s cute and should be allowed to stick around. She’s slightly less boring than almost all of these other young women.

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