Once again I refuse to write anything down for about 20 minutes. Nicki Minaj is dressed like a gay leopard Sky Captain. I’m stating officially, right now, that I will not be able to continue this for a whole season. Why is this show on for another two hours the day after it was already on? This shit is going to be on the site on Monday because I have something else to put on on Friday.
OK, so we start with a cookie baker from Iowa. Or I start there, because screw the first half hour of this show. Cookie Monster rages out some Rolling Stones with an Axl Rose screech. Sure. Keith Urban got a boner. I want Nicki Minaj to turn around. Mariah Carey hates rock n roll and wants to hear some pussified song instead because her brain is set to pussy at all times, I assume.
Randy Jackson hates his life. Like, don’t you think? Everyone loves Cookie Monster. Good for him.
Next guy is a meth head who loves Vanilla Ice and Ninja Turtles. Listen assholes, no one believes this crap anymore and I will not be trolled by the Seacrest machine. How is his audition going to go? GUESS! He sings One Week. Sorta.
THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! I will not write another word until I’m convinced I need to.
I’m reading tweets from Rob Delaney right now instead. The show is still going and I am not writing shit down. This may be easier than I thought. I guess it kind of defies the whole idea of writing a recap by not writing anything, but whatever. This is asinine.
FYI, Rob Delaney had a pretty funny tweet about mangoes.
It’s 8:38 and my dog needs to piss, so I’m taking care of that now. I bought some ice cream earlier, maybe I’ll have that. Pralines and cream, yo.
I accidentally learn in passing that Keith Urban is married to a famous actress but her name is not dropped. For 10 seconds I ponder Googling this and then just stop giving a damn. I assume Keith Urban is married to Penelope Ann Miller. Or Squiggy. Ha ha ha. Squiggy! I love that guy.
My ice cream is stupid hard and bends my spoon. Jesus.
Randy votes no on a girl whose talent is legitimately mediocre but she goes through anyway because no one seriously gives a shit on this show. But it’s cool because next up is a montage of Nicki Minaj sexually harassing dudes to counter last year when Steven Tyler did it to teen girls.
Did you know the crocodile has the strongest bite force of any animal on Earth? And Nicki Minaj has less than no skill at judging talent?
In the hall, Ryan Seacrest has sex with a contestant’s mom. In front of her husband.
It’s now 8:47 or as I have come to know it, too damn far from the end.
I think I just saw Nicki Minaj invoke the name of the Lord in an attempt at sincerity. I don’t think Jesus has you album, Nicki.
The next contestant is crying because she’s anorexic. I’m eating a Twix. I don’t feel human emotion right now. No one does.
We’re so touched by everyone’s courage and talent, except for ugly freaks who can’t carry a tune, let’s make fun of them for being shit stains. But then let’s get misty and emotional over the cancer leper girl who raised her baby sister. Oh, it’s heart breaking. Oh, triumph of the human spirit, oh look, some asshole who can’t sing again. Let’s call her Bush.
Someone comes to the door and distracts me until 9:18. Yay! What did I miss? Who cares?
Next up is a dancer who loves Mariah Carey because sure. She sounds like she’s ill. Not so good, my dear. I predict she will rage when they make fun of her. It’s 9:23. Let’s see. Randy Jackson calls her tone deaf. She sucks.
I’m still looking for food. One “fun size” Twix got me nowhere. Damn ice cream. I have some carrots. They’re baby carrots which aren’t even a real thing, they’re just regular carrots whittled down to stumps.
The next thing I notice on this show is a weird fire performer. I can see that something is wrong with her left eye but I don’t know what. She’s not a bad singer though, so that’s good. I’ve heard so much worse. So much. Good God.
There’s a quick montage of angry losers swearing at the camera. It makes me laugh for a sec. Next up is a girl who sounds like a howler monkey. They begin to criticize her and she howls at them even louder. HOOO! HOOO! GA-HOOO!! WOOOOOK! HA-KOOOO!!
It’s 9:48 and they’re threatening me with a moment that will move me to tears. I predict the next contestant is Manti Te’o. Nope, it’s a kid with a wicked stutter who can sing really well. Close.
It’s over! It’s mercifully over!