An Open Letter to Ryan Seacrest

Dear Ryan Seacrest:

I noticed something utterly fascinating this week, Ryan Seacrest. As I watched the night where it was the boys' turn to sing (Chris! Call me!), I noticed you, quite literally, had your hands all over the boys. Especially the young ones. A hand on the small of the back. A lingering handshake. A reach-around to the opposite shoulder, where you'd lightly rest your hand there for much longer than was necessary. And you did it with every single one. Even the Barry Manilow lover. Even the little Grandpa in the 16-year-old body. No one was safe from your gentle yet incessant touch.

As I watched this, I thought to myself, "Did he do this with the girls, too?" I couldn't remember, so I went back and watched. Would you like to know the extent of your girl touching? There was one awkward arm grab for Stevie Scott and one for Katharine McPhee. That is all. You totally groped 12 male contestants and awkwardly touched two, count 'em two, female arms. Many of the female contestants even attempted to molest you to varying degrees, but you would not be sullied by the touch of a woman.

The thing is, Ryan Seacrest, no one's buying it. And furthermore, no one cares. I mean, clearly I care enough to write you this letter, but that's mostly because I don't get to use the phrase "sullied by the touch of a woman" as often as I'd like. Just quit it with the constant gay jokes at Simon's expense, okay. It makes you look like an assmunch, especially when you can't stop fondling teenaged boys.

Love,
Jess

On Being Babs' Blow

Oh, how Jess and I love to discuss the 'American Idol.' We chat about it frequently and fervently. We opt for mixed media -- face-to-face conversations, phone calls, IMs, email and text messages -- to paint our impressions of the program. For example, today's IM:

Jess: Katie McPhee totally oversang that song.

Yours Truly: That's 'cause it was a Barbra song. I think there's like a law or something. Like, if you don't oversing and schmact your way through one of her numbers, it makes Barbra angry. She'll inhale you through that enormous snout of hers.

Jess: I did not know that.

Yours Truly: Oh yeah. She'll totally snort you like a line of coke off James Brolin's ass.

And scene!

The Girls

First, some Jess/Curly texts, even though we watched the show three hours apart (time difference and all that):

Me: I adore Paris Bennett.

Curly: All the white girls sing boring songs. But I like The Pickle.

Me: I cry every time The Pickle is on camera.

Curly: I want to be her friend … even though her dad is a con.

Ayla Brown: She's one of those over-achiever girls you secretly hated in high school, but also wanted to be her friend because you hoped some of her brains, talent and ambition would rub off on you before you accidentally threw her in front of a bus. I don't think she'll get the votes.

Becky O'Donohue: Ridiculously hot, which will probably carry her through for another round or two. However, sang Black Velvet at her audition, which kind of makes me want to set her on fire.

Brenna Gethers: If I were in the audience, I'd throw tomatoes at her. All ego, no talent, and only still in the competition because Simon has a hard-on for her.

Heather Cox: I can't even remember her performance – it was completely forgettable. Also, she's one of those girls who should be pretty, but for some bizarre reason isn't.

Katharine McPhee: Talented, adorable, likeable, I totally want to go shoe shopping with her. However, when Simon said she was the best vocalist all night? Um, no. Not even close.

Kellie Pickler: See text messages above.

Kinnik Sky: Eh. Gorgeous, but I wasn't blown away by her voice.

Lisa Tucker: More talented than KMcP, more adorable than KMcP, more likeable than KMcP, but I don't want to buy shoes with her as much. Seriously, though, the girl's talent is unbelievable, and she's only 16. At 16, I was writing bad poetry and listening to speed metal.

Mandisa: I didn't think she rocked the Heart song as much as everyone did. But she's sassy and I like her voice. I do think think the judges are being extra-nice to her because Simon made a fat joke and she called him on it. And they probably should be. But she needs a better song selection next time.

Melissa McGhee: Who? Oh, right. The not-cute chick with the pretty shirt. Wait, she sang?

Paris Bennett: See text messages above.

Stevie Scott: Oh Stevie. Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. When the judges are deciding your fate, it's okay to go all weird and falsetto and opera. When it's time for the 13-year-olds to start calling in, sing something they can relate to. That said, I think you're adorable.

You Raise Me Up and I Hate You for it

Some thoughts:

- I've never actually heard the Josh Groban song, "You Raise Me Up." However, it's stuck in my head 24/7 because of 'American Idol'. The Roommate and I sang it a billion times, loudly, last night, and I'm pretty sure the neighbors hate us. The Roommate, incidentally, has an uncanny ability to impersonate bad singers. You should hear her do Bai Ling.

- I want to be in an Ace Young/Chris Daughtry sandwich.

- I wish Taylor Hicks would dye and cut his hair and buy a new wardrobe so he doesn't look like my grandpa, because I love love love his voice.

- I am so glad those bitchy twins are gone. Can you imagine what it must have been like for their parents?

- I have a totally creepy Mrs. Robinson thing for Will Makar.

- Both Paula's sanity and wardrobe seem to be much improved, but Simon needs to do something with the hair. It looks like a hedgehog.