Forget the Alamo. AI Re-cap 2/6/07

We’re in San Antonio tonight and since they grow ‘em bigger in Texas, they ought to ride Seacrest out of town on a rail. This is the last week of audition shows and I can’t tell you all how grateful I am for that. Except that I’ve been bitching about them since Day One, so even Jonathan Jayne pretty much figured that one out. San Antonio must be near Houston, because everyone on line to get in is extremely fat. I know zip about Texas geography, so correct me if I’m wrong. Actually, don’t because I’m not all that interested. One thing I forgot to point out about last week’s shows is that we were mercifully spared those painful montages where everyone sings the same song badly. However, Cecile Frot-Coutaz has the whole United Airlines Rodeo and Slave Auction Arena, or whatever the hell the cattle call holding pen is named, singing the Theme to Rawhide. My guess is that’s what we’ll be treated to, ad nauseum, this evening.

Simon is whining about jet lag while Paula, dressed in a Bed, Bath & Beyond shower curtain, spins around in her chair making bubble sounds with her lips. Wonder if she’ll use jet lag as an excuse, too? Perpetuating the habit of starting out each show with a joke audition, we’re introduced to Bryan Kyrish, who mumbles something about the judges putting one leg inside their pants. He looks vaguely like a date rapist, so you know this won’t sound good. Bryan is comparing himself to Billy Idol and Ozzy Osbourne. As Simon would say, “Whoopee.” Bryan claims to have won a local “Mock Idol” contest, which somehow gives Simon false hope that he won’t suck. That hope is quickly dashed and the only thing fun about Bryan’s audition is when he drops to his knees and slams the left one hard on the wooden floor. I once banged my knee against a weight bench at the gym and it swelled up like a baseball, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Bryan gets what’s coming to him. The expression on Simon’s face when Bryan finishes his song is stunned boredom. Apparently, the judges at the Mock Idol contest were three sheets to the wind when they crowned Bryan their winner. Hey, if Paula can judge the real show… Bryan is gone and I don’t care.

Hayley Scarnato is up next. She has the bim factor that Simon so highly values, though her time spent as a wedding band singer may provide him with some easy snark. Hedwig has joined me, looking for some rubbing and is shooting dirty looks at my laptop, of which she is hugely jealous. Hayley sounds down to earth about her prospects, but I’ve found more times than not, when they film a contestant dancing in front of the camera, that’s shorthand for “Don’t take this idiot seriously.” We shall see. Simon bites his pen lustfully as Hayley enters in a black Scassi-esque pajama ensemble. Paula compliments Hayley on her outfit and when she turns around, it’s all Cowell can do not to take a huge bite out of the poor girl’s left ass cheek. Haley has a pleasant voice, but it’s really nothing special. A total wedding singer. She’ll get through on the ass factor.

Okay, we need to speed this up, because the klonopin I took is kicking in and I need to lie down. I’ve had my ass julienned and handed to me in strips this past week on a job I’ve been doing and the only way I am getting through tonight’s re-cap is by being medicated. Any typos must be excused.

Some border Mexicans have crossed over and decided to hold a hootenanny in the green room, but hey, wherever there’s an accordion- instant party! In addition to Stevie Wonder, Bonnie Raitt and Alicia Keys songs, can we please place a moratorium on fat black chicks sporting enormous cameltoes in their auditions? If I hadn’t already been born a pansy, I’d have surely turned by now and blamed these broads. Rocking said cameltoe, our next contestant, Jasmine Holland, is stopping in to sing a song for the judges before carrying the three wise men to Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus. Jasmine looks about as pleased to be auditioning as I am to be watching her. Then again, her whole bottom half could be strangling for oxygen. They don’t call them tights for nothing. Do camels go “Hee-Haw?” No, that’s a donkey, sorry. Unfortunately, it’s also Jasmine. After an ear splitting audition, Jasmine has the temerity to complain to the judges that they are being unfair. She seems awfully upset for someone who looks like she’d be having more fun at a root canal. The good news is she ought to be able to pack the gold, frankincense and myrrh in her ample caboose. Watch out for sand storms, honey.

Oh wait, it’s not over. Post audition, Jasmine is bad-mouthing the judges. Her mother chimes in, saying Simon ought to go back to France. Seacrest corrects her and says that Simon is British, prompting momma to snap back, “Fine, he needs to go back to British, then.” Jasmine, momentarily forgetting the two prizewinning squash shoved into the back of her tights, begins to make fun of Randy’s weight. Pure trash, the whole family.

Tonight’s southern blonde bim hick is named Bailey Brown. She’s from a small town called Krum and has a barn with horses. I so want Bailey’s sob story to be about their young ranch hand who broke into the barn one night and blinded all the horses after fucking her in the hay, but is now in the care of an English psychiatrist, just to see if Paula falls for it. Bailey looks like Tara Reid and fashions herself as a big city girl trapped in a small town. She’s also afraid the horses will eat her. I wouldn’t apply for a Barney’s charge account just yet, honey. Bailey is full of naked ambition and isn’t trying to mask it in a pity me story, so for that, I like her. She also seems dumb as a bag of rocks, so don’t expect us to be BFFs for longer than the end of this paragraph. Her singing voice is fair, but lazy. In fact, she actually has to wobble her head to employ her vibrato. She also can’t be bothered to say the full words, pronouncing “stronger” without the T multiple times. It sounds like “saronger.” Simon wants to bang her from behind and she quickly goes through.

Because we have been spared most of this season from the unfunny comedy bits, you knew one was just festering like a boil looking for the surface. Tonight’s humdinger is about the locked left exit door and how stupid everyone is who tries to open it on their way out. What a laff riot. Stop, my sides. It’s nothing that a small sign wouldn’t fix on the correct door, but why fuck with comedy gold in the interest of logic. My guess is just as many people would go through the wrong door even if there was a sign, which might actually generate one or two laughs, but hey, what do I know? I’m not the one who came up with “Brokenote Mountain.”

A pair of moron cousins make up the next contestants. The producers decided to try something new, something fresh, something cutting edge. Hey, let’s have another pair of clueless nerds who are friends, but this time, and here’s the wacky part, let’s make them BLACK! It’s genius! The French should be honoring the writers of this show any day now. Cousin Dumb & Dumber are unemployed, so everything they have is riding on this audition. That is brilliant. Next time I don’t feel like taking a job, I’m gonna just say “fuck it,” and put all my hopes on winning American Idol. Car insurance? Don’t need it, I’m gonna win Idol. Child support? Fuck that noise, baby, I’m gonna win Idol. Mama needs a new kidney? Hell with that, I’ll sing the bitch back to health.

The first one up, William Green, does a borderline retarded version of “Amazing Grace,” and it’s tough to believe he’s one bit serious about this. He dos elicit some laughs when, after cheerfully accepting the judges dismissal, he warns them he’s gonna have to front on the way out, opening the door and yelling back into the room some idle threats, making his cousin think he’s seriously upset. That was funny. Next up, cousin Akron has a much better voice, which isn’t too difficult. Again, not amazing, but decent. Simon tells Akron he has a good voice, but he was bored watching him. Paula gets snarky when Akron genuinely expresses concern over Simon’s comment and then bursts into a Marvin Gaye song that’s in a much too high key for him, doing nothing but erasing any glimmer of talent he might have been thought to previously have. Strangely enough, he gets through. I have to say that I haven’t seen one really good person in Texas thus far. Let me amend that- I haven’t seen one person I’ll even remember after tomorrow.

Sandie Chavez is singing “Black Velvet.” She cups her hand to one ear and I can’t help thinking it’s so she can block out the sound of her own voice. She enunciates worse than Marlee Matlin. In fact, if she hadn’t spoken clearly to Seacrest before the audition, I’d think she was a member of the Ellen James Society ($10 for anyone who gets THAT reference. Folks, sometimes the jokes are just for me, sorry.) Simon delicately asks her if the audition was serious, which is a lot nicer than I would have been. She’d have been pelted by unopened Coke cans if I was on the panel. Sandie begins to cry, at which point I’d switch to 2-liter bottles.

Ashlyn Carr is up next. She is a veritable Christina Christian clone in looks. Ashlyn was once beaten up in high school for singing, an experience I’ll bet she shares with Sandie Chavez. Ashlyn is singing “Feelin’ Good,” which, thankfully, she credits to Nina Simone, but say she’s singing the Michael Buble version, which I haven’t heard and now know I never want to. Ashlyn has a nice tone to her voice, but she has weird affectations, both vocally and facially, when she sings. I’d still put her through because I like her look, I like her presence and her focus and I think the affectations can be worked out. The judges pass on her and I think they made a mistake, especially when we see how graciously Ashlyn takes it, even through her tears, which she apologizes for. No need, dear, you deserve to be upset.

To their credit, the judges realize they may have made a mistake, though how much of this is pre-planned and staged for the camera is debatable. Ashlyn is asked to re-enter the audition room to sing again. Simon gets the other two judges to do an about face and they send Ashlyn to Hollywood. She then proceeds to strut out of the room with attitude and I wish the judges would have rescinded the invitation immediately. What they were saying was not without merit. She scrunches her face up much too much when she sings and her head movements dictate her tone. A terrible habit.

Jacob Tutor is dancing in front of the camera, so you know he’s going to be a complete mess and possibly a plant. After all, we have to end the audition rounds with a doozy. I don’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. He sings poorly and doesn’t take it well. Jacob curses and beeps and curses and beeps, but isn’t the doozy I was led to believe he’d be. Have they run out of freak shows? Maybe Ian Benardo can be flown in from NYC.

Jimmy McNeal is our final audition of the night and he’s singing “Cupid.” Or at least that’s what he claims, since he then proceeds to break out into “Another Saturday Night.” Ohhh, there’s Cupid. He’s good, but again, underwhelming. San Antonio should be stricken from the tour.

Tomorrow night, we’ll be treated to an hour of the people whose auditions they couldn’t squeeze in during the past six weeks.

Marlee Matlin never had it so good.

Seagulls out.