The holiday season is in full swing and I thought everyone would love a little gift…perhaps some genuine tard fic? Everyone loves skimming ridiculous tard fic and I have received one such masterpiece I think all of you will enjoy. This tard fic, well, it’s a good thing.

So that’s the title. Which makes you think of Martha Stewart, right? Awesome. We’re halfway there. The other player in this sauteed saga of sex and seduction is none other than…Taylor Hicks.

It’s also a bit NC-17, is terribly written, and the author seems to be confused about punctuation in many cases. So…enjoy! (Oh. And there are also SEAMEN. SEAMEN. SEAMEN.)

It’s A Good Thing

Taylor had been doing the press junket promoting his new record for weeks now. When he walked onto the set of Martha Stewart, the smell of eucalyptus and fresh baked cookies permeated the air in the spacious well lit studio.

He had never seen such a gorgeous studio, and a staff that made you feel as if you were home.

The staff made it perfectly clear to Taylor and his entourage that they worked for the guests first, and Martha second. Martha insisted on nothing less.

As Taylor and his band and a few friends, took their coats off and made themselves comfortable, one of Martha’s producers came waltzing in, bogged down with gift bags. She placed the gift bags on a coffee table, and scanned the room counting heads. “1,2,3.. how many of there are you?” She questioned.

Taylor smiled and answered eight. As the producer hurriedly disappeared into the back room to gather a few more bags, Gray Charles and his wife were already grabbing theirs checking out the goods.

“Doug, Jesus man, can’t you wait till she at least brings the rest of ‘em?” Taylor asked.

“Ummm oh yeah, sorry Taylor.” Gray answered as he lightly slapped his wife’s hand, who was digging in her bag of treasures.

More apron clad staff adorning chef hats rolled through the door with carts of every kind of breakfast food imaginable, as they all picked their favorites.

Taylor filled his plate with hot out of the oven croissants, cookies and took a glass of orange juice, while others feasted on eggs benedict and coffee.

The smells of all the foods, spices and the like made Taylor long for home. To him, it smelled like the holidays should.

“Taylor! Do you mind doing a quick audio blog for the site?” Doug asked, licking his mimosa mustache.

“Doug, for God sakes, can I just eat in peace? I just did one last night. Go around and talk to the band will ya please.”

Taylor thought to himself, ‘I gotta find a way to get rid of this pain in my fucking ass.’

Mouths full, Taylor and the rest of his posse turned when they heard a loud banging noise coming from the kitchen. ‘Was that yelling he heard?’ Taylor thought.

“I told you people THIS is not the right kind of twine for the wreath segment!” Martha screamed, shaking the ball of twine at her staff.

Sniffing the greenery, Martha shook the bundle of eucalyptus and screamed that was also the wrong eucalyptus, the kind she wanted was the seasonal kind.

Taylor chuckled to himself, he had no fucking idea there were different kinds of eucalyptus. For all he knew, eucalyptus was the shit they put in cough drops.

As Martha raged on, Taylor smiled. He was quite amused and intrigued by her.

Taylor nudged Doug and whispered; “Hey Doug, she’s kinda hot for an old broad, she’s pretty fucking fiesty ya know.”

Doug shook his head in disbelief. “Taylor, dude are you serious?”

Taylor quickly “Shh’d’ Doug. He was totally enthralled with Martha.

Martha walked proudly, with her best Miss America posture into the green room. She stopped at the doorway and clasped her hands.

“Welcome, welcome to my show. I see you’ve made yourselves comfortable. Is everything cooked to your satisfaction?”

Taylor swallowed his last bite of english muffin and stood to greet her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Thanks so much for havin us. Your set is beautiful, and your hospitality is so generous.”

Martha shook Taylor’s hand a nano second longer than she normally would have with any other guest. She thought to herself how very southern and devilishly charming this premature graying young man was.

“Mr. Hicks. I’m so happy to have you. I must be honest, I am not really a fan of American Idol, but my staff kept talking about ‘Taylor Hicks, Taylor Hicks’ so, I watched a tape of you dancing like a whirling dervish and playing that harmonica. I just knew I had to have you on then! You are fantastic!”

“Thank you Martha, Thank you!” Taylor smiled. He felt like an ass. He was star struck. He felt like such a fan boy. Now, he knew how Doug felt.

“I’m sorry that you had to witness me yelling at my staff, but, they always seem to get something wrong. Taylor, you and I are going to make a wreath together. You don’t have an aversion to heights do you?”

Taylor answered as he looked into her cold dead eyes. Somehow he was turned on.

“Ummm.. no M’am… not at all… why?”

“Oh, I would like you to hang a swag at the end of a segment.”

Taylor grinned from ear to ear. “Ha! You hear that guys? I’m gonna hang a swag with Martha!”

Martha spun around on one heel turning to leave the room, “Taylor, I took the liberty to lay out a nice shirt for you. It’s in your dressing room.”

Taylor felt himself getting hard looking at Martha’s ass leaving the room and oh, how he loved domineering women. He waved her off and thanked her for the shirt.

After Taylor finished eating, he was led away by more staff into a secluded dressing room. The dressing room was nicer than most people’s homes. Candles burned on every available flat surface.

As his eye adjusted, he saw the brown starched shirt Martha had mentioned hanging in the closet. He looked at the label.. “Hmmm Hugo Boss. Nice taste Martha”

A slight tap on the door and Martha let herself in, standing in the door jam she asks Taylor if he likes the shirt.

“Why thank you m’am the shirt is really nice.”

“Go ahead Taylor try it on.”

He removed the sweater he had on and was about to put on the Hugo Boss, he felt her eyes staring at him, God why did this turn him on so much. Taylor felt his pants begin to tighten on his crotch. Damn he couldn’t let Martha Stewart see that she had given him a hard on.

“Taylor, I may call you Taylor?” She smiles at him and lowered her eyelashes.

“Martha is flirting with me, damn.” Taylor thought and involuntarily hoped from foot to foot.

“Of course please call me Taylor, ma’am”

“Damn Taylor doesn’t call her ma’am. Shit, you fucked up you dork. Damn” His thoughts were beginning to show on his face.

“Please Taylor,” She walked closer and ran her hand up and down his bare arm, “Don’t call me ma’am call me Martha.”

All he could do was smile, a shy embarrassed smile.

“You know, Taylor, I think that shirt would look better with something dark underneath, something like this.” She produced a chocolate t-shirt made form the softest cotton he had ever felt.

“Why thank you, ma ……. I mean Martha, you have such good taste,” Damn I am acting like a fucking fan girl and I’m think she is so fucking hot.

“You know Martha, my Grandma Joni just loves you, and she watches everyday. She is so excited I’m here.”

Martha tried to feign interest in Taylor’s little down home tale, but mostly she focused on his naked, hairy chest.

“My notes say that you recently lost weight, good job, you look fabulous.” She let her hand drift across his chest and down to his navel.

Taylor was so hard he thought he might pop some buttons on his new jeans.

Martha boldly moved her hand down a bit more until it rested on his erection. She looked him in the eye and licked her lips.

He thought he was going to burst at that moment, fuck she was rubbing him.

“I’m getting rubbed off by Martha.” God his mind was going wild.

“You know Taylor, I think I would like a little taste of that,” She began to unbutton his jeans.

It didn’t take much for his swollen cock to make an appearance.

“Look at that like a big juicy kielbasa. I love kielbasa.”

Martha took off her sweater and folded it neatly, and then she removed her lipstick.

“Don’t want to seaman on my sweater or lipstick on your penis. Do we?”

“No, Martha we don’t want that.” Taylor felt light headed like all the blood in his brain was now in his dick.

“You didn’t need to answer, it was a rhetorical question.” Martha shook her head. “Now go stand that step stool over there.”

Taylor looked at her quizzically.

“What, I want you to stand where I can get a good gripe on your juicy monster and Martha Stewart goes on her knees for no one.”

Taylor did as he was told and was rewarded by the feel of Martha’s lips on him, then she took him in her mouth and sucked slow and steady.

“I’m getting my dick suck by Martha, I’m getting my dick sucked by Martha” was the mantra playing in his head.

Martha put on her sweater, straightened her hair, kissed Taylor on the mouth, and walked out the door. He could hear her shouting in the hall.

“Do we have the right twine yet, folks? And can someone please get me some mouth wash.” Her voice trailed off as she moved down the hall.

Taylor looked down at his now flaccid penis.

“Damn this is the best gig, cookies and a blow job”

Taylor walked back into the green room trying hard not to grin from hear to hear.

“Hey Doug, I’ll add something to that audio blog if you like”

“Really Taylor, great I’ll get the recorder.” He fumbled to his feet leaving behind a dust storm of crumbs.

The sax played looked at Taylor, “What put you in such a good fucking mood.”

“Let’s just say I got the holiday spirit,”

******************************************************************************

Taylor had finished his song and was taking one last tour of the Green Room looking for snacks, when Martha came in behind him.

“Well Taylor we’ve had some day, haven’t we”

He loved the way she looked him straight in the eye never flinched no embarrassment in those cold bitch eyes. But her mouth that was something else his dick got hard just thinking about it.

“Taylor, can you come back on the set for a minute, I need you to hang more garland. She smiled at him

“Well I need to get to MTV otherwise I would love to help you out.” Taylor stuffed some more cookies in his backpack.

“That wasn’t a request it was a demand, now get your cute little Alabama’s ass back on set.” She looked him dead on, “Now!”

Taylor had no choice he followed her meekly, God he loved strong women.

Martha rolled up her sleeves and started putting together a bundle of greenery. She slapped it against her hand and winced a bit. “That will do nicely.” She said aloud.

Taylor was standing there with his hands in his pockets he loved watching Martha, she made him hard.

“Hicks, get over here and put your hands out in front of your, like this” She clasped her hands together, fingers intertwined.

Taylor hesitated and looked quizzically at the women in front of him.

“Do it now, Hicks, I have a diner party this evening. Damn, you would never survive behind bars.

Taylor did as he was told, and Martha tied his hand together nice and tight, then she hiked him across the counter securing the end of the twine to the draw pull.

Looking at his jean clad ass, she smiled and reached around his waist and undoing his belt and buttons pushing them to the floor. “Now that’s better,”

Taylor felt a cool breeze blow across his ass he had worn some flimsy silk boxers today and had a real bad feeling he was going to regret that decision.

“Now Taylor we had a little fun back in the dressing room, didn’t we” She moved her hand across his silk clad bottom.

“Yes, Martha”, he swallowed hard.

“And I made you feel good, didn’t I Taylor?” She gave his right butt check a hard slap

“Yes, Martha” Damn that hurt he thought.

“And what did I get in return, I’ll tell you what nothing.”

“I thought you were in a hurry. I mean, I don’t know I was confused. I was getting my dick sucked by fucking Martha Stewart. I’m sorry; can I make it up to you now?” Taylor was straining on the rope to look over his shoulder at her.

“You were going to leave me high and dry and frustrated. That is very naughty.”

“Martha, I’m sorry really”

“When my daughter was young and naughty she got a spanking, but I let her choose what I would spank her with, “She opened the drawer next to her and took out a spatula.”

“Damn, thought Taylor, “I am in big trouble here.”

“So Taylor do you want your spanking with the bunch of eucalyptus or the spatula.”

He could not believe he was actually thinking this question out as to the better option.

“Come on Taylor, I need an answer. Don’t make pull down those cute shorts of your and give it to you on your bare ass.”

“Spatula, use the fucking spatula.”

“No need to curse that just got you five more swats.”

Taylor waited with trepidation for the first stroke, but when it came, it hurt like a mother.

Martha was relentless she cover every inch of his upturned ass with a hard smacks. Taylor hadn’t gotten a whipping’ like this since Grandma Joni found him smoking behind the house. He was standing for two days with that one.

“Hicks I told you I wanted you to sing Georgia, and you did ‘The Runaround’ That’s gonna cost you three more licks.”

God Damnit that hurt, he thought, but it made his dick harder than ever.

Taylor continued to look over his shoulder at his capture, and wince in delight.

“Who told you that you could look at me Bama boy.”

Three more licks.

Taylor didn’t know how much more he could stand, before he burst.

As she slapped him two more times with her namesake branded spatula, his gutteral groans were getting louder.

“You like that don’t ya Hicks?” He thought her voice was a sexy combination of a 800- number whore and Cruella Deville. God damnit, how he loved it.

Picking up the bundle of eucalyptus, she waved it under his nose. “You like that smell huh?’

“Yes, Martha” He obeyed.

She gave him one last switch with the bundle of eucalyptus and told him he took it like man.

Then he heard her heeled footsteps walking away, and he was still bent over the counter and his hands tied. He tried struggle and wiggle loose.

“Martha! Where are you goin’?”

Two minutes later she was behind him again with a tray of ice and taking cubes out one by one.

“Now Mr. Hicks. it’s a well known fact that if you apply ice immediately to the affected area, it’ll reduce the swelling and tenderness.”

As she lowered his silky boxers, she made figure eights with the ice cube and purposely brushed the bottom of his ball sack.

Taylor moaned so loud that it bellowed through the studio.

“Now Mr. Hicks, if you continue to be so noisy, I’ll have to punish you again.”

Taylor shivered, yet he remained aroused;

“Sorry Martha, it’s just that the ice cubes are really cold, but somehow…”

“Somehow what Taylor?” Martha purred.

Taylor was embarrassed as he whispered “Sensual.”

“Well Mr. Hicks, sensual isn’t exactly what I would call it, but, it’s turning me on even more that you’re so turned on.” Martha gave his balls another light squeeze from behind.

Taylor couldn’t contain his guttural moans once again. “Oh my God Martha.. please….”

“Please what Taylor.. what is it you want?” She continued to taunt him in the most erotic fashion.

Taylor’s breathing was raspy. “I wanna fuck you.. I wanna fuck you dirty rotten..”

Taylor and Martha heard footsteps approaching.

Taylor struggled against the tether, trying to wiggle his hands free. “Fuck Martha… someone’s comin’.”

Doug walked in and stopped short, leaving his wife that was shadowing behind him, to run into him, causing them both to stumble slightly. Doug swallowed hard. Mrs. Doug gasped. They couldn’t believe the site before them.

Thinking quick, Doug reached for his cell phone, nonchalantly stood in front of Taylor and snapped his picture in this compromising position.

“Now Taylor, you think you wanna talk to J. Records for me about extending my contract on the blog?” Doug’s green teeth snarled over his Stephen King look alike lips.

Taylor was seething, he fought with all his might to get loose.

“Doug you fucking bastard! Get back here now!”

Doug grabbed his wife who was still gasping and giggling and said.. “You, get in the dressing room and get those big bloomers off now!”

Taylor continued to hurl a tapestry of obscenities in the direction of the door Doug slipped through.

“Martha! Untie me now!”

Martha bent to whisper; “Mr. Hicks you truly are a very naive young man aren’t you.”

Still wiggling, Taylor asks; “Martha did you see what he just did? He just took my fuckin’ picture! Now, please untie me. I have some business to tend to.”

Before Martha starts to untie him, she pinches his ass and says;

” Yes, you do have some business to tend to.. I believe you mentioned wanting to fuck me dirty rotten? And, don’t give Doug a second thought. You can’t tell me you don’t see the lust in his eyes for you?”

Finally free, Taylor flailed his hands trying to get the circulation moving.

Taylor thought about what Martha said about Doug. He had been reading about Doug being a fan girl on other sites. TMS reveled in the Doug snark. It always made him chuckle when the girls from that site made jokes about it. They have the best sense of humor on that site. ‘Could there really be some truth to it? Shit.’

Martha approached him and grabbed his cock. “So, you think you have a little left for me?”

Taylor felt himself growing as she gripped her hand around him just a bit more rough than he was used to. God, how he loved it. There was something so volatile, yet arousing about her that made him insanely turned on.

She was everything he wasn’t. She was domineering, and although he was a control freak, she had perfected it , which made him beyond wildly crazy.

As she continued to squeeze him feeling him grow by the inch, by the second. He groped at her tits. Then he grabbed her by the nape of the neck gently, and growled into her ear.

“Turn around Stewart. This old fashioned southern boy is gonna fuck you till you can’t see straight.”

Martha gave him her best side eyed look and a shifty smile as she obeyed and dropped her pants, bending over the same counter Taylor was tied to, offering up her ass to him.”

Taylor groaned as he rubbed the head of his cock on her ass. “Oh baby, it’s not your ass I want. I’m gonna fuck that little pussy of yours… But, not before I lick it first.”

He spun her around and went to work right away. The smell of her pussy made him insane. Martha arched her back and pushed herself into his tongue; “Suck and blow Hicks.. fucking suck and blow.”

Taylor didn’t know what was more erotic, her screaming or the taste of her pussy. He swore he tasted just like fresh baked gingersnaps.

He brought her almost to the verge of climax, and stood up, spinning her around..

She slapped her own ass awaiting his arrival..

“C’mon Hicks.. give it to me dirty.. don’t be shy. I’ve done hard time.”

Taylor didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before his orgasm exploded and he wanted to be inside this steel cold bitch right now.

Martha turned around and looked at him, there he was with his jeans and silky shorts around his ankles and his backside red and welted she was dripping in anticipation.

“Come on Hicks, what are you waiting for, I told you I had an engagement this evening.”

He grabbed her by her hair and held tight.

“You’ve had your fun bitch, now it’s my turn. Get on your knees!”

“Well you’ve grown some balls, Hicks.” She said as she slid to the floor.

Taylor was behind her looking at her ass, he wanted to give her back a little of her own. He slapped her hard leaving a hand print on her left butt check.

“Say my name bitch, say my name or there is more of that coming your way.”

“Hicks, your name is Hicks.”

He slapped her again making her jump a bit, “I don’t like to be called Hicks, what’s my name?”

“Taylor, your name is Taylor.” Martha was breathless

“And what do you want me to do to you?” He was breathless as well.

“Fuck me,” she screamed. “I want you to fuck me dirty rotten.”

That was all Taylor could take he plunged into her wet pussy with his full strength.

“Is that what you wanted bitch? Is my dick big enough for you”

“Yes, yes it is. God your are making me so hot. I’m going to cum right now.”

Her vaginal contractions and guttural moans put Taylor over the edge and he exploded inside her.

“Well Martha was that hot and hard enough for you. Do you feel like a dirty little bitch now?”

Martha adjusted her clothing and started walking away.

“Hey I’m talking to you.”

Stewart turned to look at her silver haired stud, “That Taylor was a very good thing.”

Spread the word. Do it.

Like the vast majority of male Idol contestants, Hicks got stuck with the grannies. Hell, with that premature mop of gray hair, he probably got it worse than the others–save for Clay Aiken, perhaps?

But that Taylor Hicks, he’s a nice guy. Even if he thinks you look funny in those red felt antlers, he’ll still be nice to you. And pose for photos which amuse me. Happy holidays, Taylor Hicks.

Spread the word. Do it.

Bo Bice, David Hasselhoff and Taylor Hicks (among several others) went down to Mississippi to perform a special tribute show this week. The Gulf is Back — airing on the CW on August 27 — aims to show the country that it’s okay to travel to Mississippi’s Gulf Coast, as the recent oil spill disaster has done nothing to frak up the natural beauty and all that other good stuff.

This photo is kind of special. It also makes me wonder if The Hoff told Taylor Hicks, remember the time I watched you win Idol and I cried tears of happiness? And Tay Tay is all like, you drink too much, man. Whoo-eeee.

Spread the word. Do it.

This has nothing to do with American Idol. I just love Joshua Jackson. PACEY CON!

Nigel Lythgoe might be returning as Idol’s executive producer! Who was that idiot who took his place? Something Warwick? Produced pageants and the ilk? Anyway, say what you will about Lythgoe, who may or may not be a prick (homophobic or otherwise), Idol was kind of more entertaining with him on it. Looks like they’re pulling out all the stops to save the show, sans begging Simon & Paula to come back or voiding the contracts of Kara DioGuardi and (sorry, Ellen!) Ellen DeGeneres. I mean, even though Randy Jackson is as useless as tits on a bull, he’s kind of…nostalgic at this point in Idol’s sad existence.

Speaking of Idol’s sad existence, the Ruben Studdard-Clay Aiken tour (Cluben!) has begun. This should be a warning to any little boy who wants to try out for American Idol. DO YOU WANT THIS TO HAPPEN TO YOU? Sadly, the video has been removed before I was able to watch it. If someone gets me a copy, I will provide full face-palming commentary.

UPDATED! (Thank you Jim! And H20Convo!) WHY IS THE FIRST THING I SEE…CLAY AIKEN GRABBING HIS CROTCH?

I would still actually see this man if he performed in a bar down the street because I know the show would actually be fun.

Meanwhile, on the current American Idol tour, Michael Lynche, Casey James, and Andrew Garcia continue to stuff sandwiches down their throats late at night. This time, Lee DeWyze makes a guest appearance. And what were the sandwiches they so enjoyed on July 24th? CHIK-FIL-A.

The Huffington Post’s Melody Breyer-Grell wrote that Adam Lambert is having an identity crisis, even though 85% of the article humped his leg effusively. (Breyer-Grell is mostly spot on in her assessment of Lambert’s career, and she is clearly someone who truly admires his talent. The article was HONEST.) Naturally, 85% is not good enough for the most ardent of Lambert fans. Uh oh…Did somebody say CHIK-FIL-A?

I find the need to mention Adam’s sexuality in an article about his talent offensive. I have done my Adam Lambert research, in fact I have written a book and many articles about Mr. Lambert. Adam does not suffer from an identity crisis. What you are looking for is simplicity in a complex person. Adam may be the boy next door in an interview, but he is the sexually provocative, thrusting, grinding, and testosterone laden Alpha male on stage. He is multifaceted and is always true to himself. There is absolutely nothing about Adam Lambert that is not genuine. The fans at his sold out tour venues will not agree with your assessment of his authenticity. Lambert is a man driven by his desire to make an artistic statement. Adam’s artistry encompasses his style, staging, and his ability to enrich every lyric with emotion. He is arguably the most gifted vocalist of his generation and a capable dancer. Why should any great artist limit their means of expressing themselves other than by the boundaries of their capability? Adam should sing whatever he wants to sing and I will go to his concerts and buy his album.

Kris Allen was in San Diego. He sang some songs during two sold-out shows at Anthology. Here is a video of Falling Slowly so you people get off the previous Idol Quickies thread. (Courtesy of SnapCracklyPop)

David Cook had breakfast with his father and brother yesterday. If you too, had breakfast on Sunday, you are likely destined to marry David Cook.

Spread the word. Do it.

Thanks, MJ! I was already running late! This morning, Popeater casually mentioned American Idol Season 5 winner Taylor Hicks expressed a desire to date uber-wombed shrill bitch reality whore Kate Gosselin. Hmmm…in a way its not entirely…wrong? Both are two of the most polarizing figures in the history of this endless crapfest called reality television. Both look older than their actual age. Both have well-recognized hair.

Which ‘Idol’ Winner Wants to Date Kate Gosselin?

… None other than the Soul Patrol himself, Mr. Taylor Hicks, would told me straight-up he’d love to get his chance to woo the original octomom.

Taylor and I were having drinks the other night in New York City (you’ve got to love a dude who still drinks Bud in a champagne-sipping crowd) when the topic of Kate Gosselin came up.

“I would totally date her,” Taylor told me. “I have always said I wanted nine kids, so it would be perfect!”

Taylor is currently breaking theater box office records around the country starring in ‘Grease’ and doing the one thing that all the other Idols seem to have forgotten about — performing live.

“People see Kelly Clarkson on the covers of magazines talking about her weight and Carrie Underwood always making headlines about who she’s dating and wonder where has Taylor been,” a friend of Hicks tells me. “Yet he’s happy to be under the radar doing what he always dreamed of doing — performing live eight times a week to sold out crowds.”

Spread the word. Do it.

Yeah. I only posted this because I wanted the hits. I totally admit it. No shame in telling the truth now, is there? I can’t believe I even wrote Glambulge, but it just makes me laugh. You call this guy’s penis the Glambulge and his armpits Ginger Pits. Why not call them Glitter Ginger Pits? It’s unhealthy to name the body parts of people you’ve never met (Post-Idol concert Meet & Greets do not count). You are just as bad as the Claymates who call his junk Waldo. And the Soul Patrol people who calls Taylor Hicks’ ass the Onion. If you’re wondering about that one, it’s because it’s so fine it makes you wanna cry.

That’s all I got. Talk amongst yourselves. Or better yet, start submitting captions for this party-pic-in-spandex.

(And in case you didn’t know Adam Lambert was recently making out with that Drake dude in a 7-11 parking lot...and Lambert’s Time For Miracles video will be shown before the posthumous Michael Jackson concert film, This Is It. Call me a hater, but come on. You Idol people couldn’t even have stuck in some Kris Allen before Law Abiding Citizen or something?)

Spread the word. Do it.

(It’s probably not what you would call a photoshop, but more  Blingee, I think. Oh, Hell. It’s like splitting hairs! I’m tired. I’ll figure it out later, hopefully after the nightmares I will most likely have after finding this beauty.)

And this should be good enough inspiration for you to get YOUR Blingee designed for IdleTard’s upcoming Blingee contest. You only have about 4 days left so start Blingee-ing!

Spread the word. Do it.

Why do they let Randy talk? Oh jesus, does this man lie. He thinks this is the first time “any one of the Top 13 could win the whole thing.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Yeah. Jasmine Murray could win this entire thing. Yeahhhhhhh.

Lucid Paula has been surprisingly good with her criticism, but hey, I’ve always thought Paula gave more pertinent advice than Randy. In any case, I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic for the days of Percocet Paula and am hoping her dress is a sign of things to come because basically, you would have to be taking some good pills to publicly don an ensemble clearly inspired by a bird strangling itself in gilded ivy.

So does this mean Alexis Grace is in the pimp spot? Gag me. And Simon breaks the news that TWO people are going home tomorrow. Uh, yeah. I think I read that like, last week.

Let’s watch people screaming for Michael Jackson without mentioning the whole kid touching thing.

Lil Rounds
The Way You Make Me Feel

Do you think Lil Rounds chats about BBQ with Anoop? If my last name was Rounds and I had three kids, you should know I would not have passed up a chance to name one Ground. And yes, she is singing The Way You Make Me Feel. Her outfit makes me feel yucky. Sweetie. Why did you cut up a Mandrell Sister hand-me-down and pair it with high-waisted pants when your have a generously-sized ass?

Drink every time Randy says, you know what’s great about you? I don’t really know what he was talking about when he said she put a brand-new spin on it. It sounded like the original, except Lil Rounds was singing it. Don’t get me wrong, I think she has a fairly decent voice, but I also think she’s been a bit overhyped. Her performance was fine, but I’ll forget about it in about 10 minutes.

Glam squad, way to go?? Oh yeah. Coming from the chick wearing a bird strangled in gilded ivy. This should be enough for Lil to know she lose that look. Simon, naturally, is completely right on and also says she looks like shit.

But I’m buoyed by the hope Paula’s ridiculous comments indicate she’s at least drunk, so this night could very well improve.

Scott MacIntyre
Keep the Faith

My friend Rachel has already text me to say he kind of sucks, but I can’t hate on the blind guy. Although he is singing a song I don’t know and the word faith is part of the title, I still don’t want to hate on the blind guy. But I pretty much hate this song and am inclined to agree with Rachel a bit. I’m also starting to wonder the reasons why Scott adores wearing military-esque jackets. Interesting. Yeah, I can’t hate on the blind guy. The dude danced with a walking stick, for chrissake.

Simon hated the song. Because no one knows it. SNAP.

It’s fine being artistic. Just not on this show.

Yup. Simon pretty much just summed up this entire show in eight words. Brilliant.

Rachel points out that it looks as if Paula is wearing Liberace’s dog tag. YES! YES! YES! Who doesn’t love the Paula Abdul Jewelry Collection

Danny Gokey
P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)

Oh phooey. We only got to see Gokey’s family tonight! Damn. Bet they’re saving Pastor Rolex for next week. Wow. Now I am also a bit disappointed Gokey’s glasses don’t match his shirt completely, and frankly, using two different shades of burgundy is a tad distracting. He should have gone with the black pair to highlight the black tweed in the blazer, although that tattooed eagle on the back makes me want to build a time machine so I can go back in time and prevent Ed Hardy’s birth.

Yeah. I’m just having too much fun critiquing wardrobe selection this evening.

Gokey’s voice is solid, yet, I can see how his performance style was clearly developed in a theatrical church setting. He does know how to play to a crowd in a very church-like way. His dancing…uh…um…yeah. I finally get why his dead wife compared him to Taylor Hicks. (Hmmm…I wonder if he, too, will be forced to go out on a faux-date as ordered by Regis & Kelly.)

I think Paula just got a refill. I also think she climaxed during his performance. She is a bit flushed. She also says he’s going to the finals (as she claims she also did with Farmbot Underwood). All the judges sing his praises. It’s a big obnoxious to watch them slobbering over one another. Subsequent shots of Paula add credence to my belief she climaxed during his performance. She even offers to choreograph him. Bom chicka bom bom.

Michael Sarver
You Are Not Alone

Yay! Roughnecks. And oh, Michael didn’t have a Daddy. Pimp that tragic back story, roughneck boy! Your mother knows how to play the game, take a lesson from your momma.

Ballads bore me to tears. He was fine, I guess. Simon is tired of the roughneck story but goddamnit! Roughnecks are more fun than churchgoers! And the longer this guy stays in, the more I can quote Armageddon! The judges all like him and say how nice he is, blah blah blah…

(I am wondering if Go-To-Church-With-The-Idols will be next week’s pre-song packages. Or maybe Idol realized we don’t want to see these people’s houses of worship.)

Oh man. Well, we all gotta die right? I’m the guy who gets to do it saving the world.

OMG! YES! We’ve got a behind-the-scenes look at how Tranny Cake Makeup is actually applied! (Or they’re just using B-Roll from RuPaul’s Drag Race.)

Jasmine Murray
I’ll Be There

It would have been cooler if Adam Lambert was doing her makeup, yet I’m still frightened by someone so young using so much damn makeup. Pageant Girl is starting to make Tyra Banks look like the epitome of earthy, au natural beauty. Ah, the Wild Card contestants will have to do with taped greetings from their families acting surprised and happy while watching them perform on the show during daylight hours.

This girl might be able to sing, but she’s so ridiculously boring. Too technical, too rehearsed. Too damn pageanty.

Oh for chrissake, I hate it when Randy has to talk about his past accomplishments, just in hopes people might stop thinking he’s a boob. Blah blah blah. Now we have to listen to Kara. Blah blah blah. Why is some chick who never made it as a solo artist talking about stage presence? All this twit talks about is stage presence and radio play, being commercial and being a package artist. All this chick makes me think of is the movie Grace of My Heart. Except I would so much rather go shopping with Illeana Douglas any day over Kara DioGuardi.

Let’s just look at Paula again because it’s fun and I’m bored!

Simon thinks she’s robotic. Yeah, Simon, I keep waiting for smoke to start coming out of her head and wires to start popping out of her ears, too!

Alison Iraheta is after the part of my heart reserved only for Joanne Polniaczek.

Kris Allen
Remember The Time

Hot-By-Default Fundie Boy doesn’t think Conway Arkansas is that small, but I swear I only saw one streetlight. Obviously, he busted his singing chops in church and with the rest of his family. In church. Here’s a family portrait of the Allen men being musical. I just keep wondering why they have a desktop PC clearly bought in 1998 and whether or not Compuserve still exists.

I’m going to venture that Hot-By-Default Fundie Boy’s wife is employed as an elementary school teacher. Hot-By-Defaut Fundie Boy’s wife embodies the traits of ever elementary education major you met while in college — bland sorority girl “cuteness” coupled by overwhelming desire to marry young and have picture-perfect abode by age 25, 2.2 kids by age 28. Oh. Lest I forget the overwhelming desire to show off your cheesy-ass wedding gifts to anyone that comes over.

Their three future children’s names will, of course, also begin with the letter “K”.

Hot-By-Default Fundie Boy is like some bizarro cylon-created hybrid of a somewhat cute, churchgoing, singing, guitar-playing boy I attended high school with who dated my friend Michie during freshman year before growing up to become a youth minister AND this sleazy almost-divorced idiot I knew a few years ago.

I guess his performance was fine, hell, it was better than the original just because I hate the original and can only remember some mind-numbing video about Egypt when I think about it. So it’s not great, I don’t know. I was still kind of distracted by his bizarro hybrid-ness. Paula says Simon is undressing her when you and I both know, she’s just hammered and her feathers are falling and sticking to the remnants of her Gokey-gasm.

Alison Iraheta
Give Into Me

Oh come on. Did we really need subtitles for this chick’s father? Just because he’s kind of dark, right? But hello? How much do you love Alison Iraheta’s big clearance furniture store concert??

I know she’s probably getting her hair dyed professionally by this point, but whenever I look at her, I just think about that issue of Sassy magazine where one of the beauty tips was DIY haircolor using Kool Aid.

I totally do not know this song, but I sincerely like this kid’s voice. And her look suits her much more than that nitwit Alexis Grace.

Paula is starting with the OMG SHE IS ONLY 16 comments. Groan. Oh, I think she has been doing it since she was 2 — hasn’t Paula seen La Princessa del Mariachi? YES! Alison make an awesomely awkward joke about not being a cutter when Simon told her to lighten up. It’s okay, Alison. I totally laughed, too! And her facial expressions are FANTASTIC. She is soooooo my favorite girl on this show.

Oh how absolutely beautiful. Anoop was backstage Thriller dancing before the break. Love it. Love it.

Anoop Desai
Beat It

How can you not love Anoop? He’s a Hindu in a master’s program at UNC. How can you not love Anoop’s parents? And yes! He is singing Beat It! I cannot wait for his dancing! He even has the turned-up 80s collar. Whoa, Idol. Love how you’re giving the smart Indian dude a Matrix-inspired backdrop. I still want to know how these are chosen, I mean, Lambert gets rainbows and Gokey gets heavenly clouds, so…

Anoop is entertaining. And energetic. He also gives faux-frak you attitude. Love him. I don’t care what anyone says. They are so gonna hate it. Oh come on, Paula. Why the hell did you give them Michael Jackson night and not let them do Beat It? You gave them the song list and said choose. What? You can’t see the entertainment value of his version? YES! Vote for Anoop! Bring his ass back next week! Oh Kara, actually, he did do some variant notes and shit. And come on. How gracious and polite is this kid? And Simon regrets putting him in the Top 13? NOOOOOO!!!! See? How can you win with these people?

Jorge Nunez
Never Can Say Goodbye

I like Jorge for some reason. Ballads bore me, but he’s the kind of person I like seeing get kind of far on a shit show like this, as he’s not had much formal singing training and is truly “undiscovered”. Plus, why not get a true Spanish singer on here? Let’s have them ALL sing in Spanish one night. That would be phenomenal.

Kara is whispering to Paula about something over at the judges table. Probably about cougar-y stuff. Jorge kind of had a rough note at one point, so I know Randy will throw out pitchy, and I don’t care much for this song, but I still want to see him stick around. Come on, Idol! Give Puerto Rico something to be proud of. Jennifer “I’m not a Scientologist” Lopez and Skeletor are bringing the Commonwealth down!

YES! YES! YES! I love Jorge right now. Yes, English is not his first language, which makes it even more beautiful, because it all seems so innocent. He basically admits that they’re given a piss-poor list to choose from. YES! YES! YES! They’ll probably show him the door after his exquisite honesty, but as far as I’m concerned, he blatantly admitted what a huge sham this whole shit show is.

Meghan Joy
Rockin’ Robin

Tattooed Blonde Mormon Chick has wisely decided to dress like Katy Perry. And why are all Mormon mothers blonde and MILF-y? At least all the Mormon mothers of people on reality TV. I don’t meet many Mormons on the street, although I did one of those temple tours once, which was a bit freaky. So you know, my Mormon knowledge as an adult pretty much extends to things I read on the interweb, South Park and televised talent shows (AI and So You Think You Can Dance, which I watched the last season and was pleasantly surprised).

Tattooed Mormon Joy does Rockin Robin to showcase her cutesiness and youthful buoyancy, but I’m always partial to tattooed Idol contestants, as well as those with “wacky” hair. I think she might have a few pitch problems? And this kind of blows because I’m totally bored. But I like her awkward dancing and OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

CAW! CAW! CAW! She CAWED!!! WHAT THE FRAK WAS THAT? CAW! CAW! CAW!

Simon hates it. Oh, Simon, you just hated the caw-ing. How can you hate the caw-ing? Now they’re asking Gordon Ramsey what he thinks. But he didn’t yell and he had no mic so…

Is this over yet?

Adam Lambert
Black or White

One of the reasons I’m partial to Adam is that I also know what it’s like to hate one’s light-colored hair. I wonder if he chose this song because well, come on! Look at how he sang the song about equality?? This is the closest thing to a coming out EVER seen on Idol. He’s clearly not hiding anything. Sweet. Sure, I can see where some people may call him screechy, but he’s fun. He knows how to perform. The guy has talent. And yeah. I totally dig the fact he is a gay jew. Take that Fundie Idol!

But yeah, it doesn’t matter if you’re black or white. Or gay. Or straight.

Paula thinks he is the most seasoned stage performer in the history of Idol. She also loves the way he marries fashion with music, which is punctuated by her showcasing not one but TWO pieces from the Paula Abdul Collection!

Are you ready for your closeup, tacky cubic-zirconia door-knocker ring and Liberace’s dog tag? Adam has been moved to tears. She also has essentially predicted an Adam vs. Danny finals. Simon thinks he was in a totally different league than everybody else. Well, true. The guy is talented and he is experienced. And if the only way to make Captain EO work is to be over-the-top, come on, give Anoop some credit! Randy is in man-love with Adam. Kara hopes Michael Jackson is watching this tonight, although I doubt he’ll be very excited. Lambert is totally too old for MJ.

Hmmm…if Jorge and Anoop are voted off, I call bullshit. Idol is clearly trying to boot the tannest guys in the bunch.

Matt Giraud
Human Nature

Judging from his family videos, I’m gonna venture a guess and say Matt Giraud is a mean ping pong player. Giraud might also get the award for making the biggest awkward-to-not-awkward transformation from adolescence to adulthood. Naturally, Giraud is playing Human Nature on the piano. I can kind of see where this guy might pick up some comparisons to Justin Timberlake, in all honesty. Plus, Paula is swaying listlessly at the judge’s table, which is always a good sign. And he hits some high notes which Kara will cream over and Randy will call pitchy.

Is it just me, but doesn’t Human Nature always make you feel kind of skeevy when listening to it. Yup. Randy calls Timberlake and Paula & Kara want to bang him. Simon says he was solid but meat and potatoes compared to Lambert. Yawn. No surprise.

I now remembered why I find this song so damn skeevy and have ever since I was 6 or 7. It was the outfit worn by Michael Jackson to on the cover of the single. YES! Men in that much yellow can kind of make a girl get the piss shivers, ok?

Oh shoot me now. Actually, don’t shoot me. Shoot Alexis Grace, who has furthered my crusade of hatred against this stupid wannabe twit in a single shot of her primping in front of a mirror backstage. The only consolation I have is that I know my Tivo will cut off before she’s done. I can miss the judge’s pathetic fawning.

Alexis Grace
Dirty Diana

Oh shut the hell up already. And stop with the fake tears for your little girl. That’s so lame.

She is hurrying through this first part, I think. It sounded a little rushed, the first few bars/lyrics. This bitch reminds me of a blond Jennifer Love Hewitt and frankly, that’s one of the worst things I can ever say about a person. She’s way too full of herself for being so mediocre, much like Jennifer Love Hewitt, who inexplicably remains employed in these troubled economic times.

The only thing nice I can say about Alexis Grace is that she may have begun using a gradual self tanner, however, I think the producer’s are doing her a favor by letting her sing on a dimmed stage to create the illusion that’s she’s not frakking Casper.

I hate her. The judges will love her. Kara busts out her totally lame Carrie Bradshaw imitation and tells her she is naughty. Simon, thank flying spaghetti monster, was not impressed. He thought she was over the top (but wait…I thought that was what she was supposed to be…?) and obviously, not as good as she thought she was.

Alexis sucked donkey balls, but you know the pimp spot means the twit ain’t going anywhere.

And Idol, just because a gay dude is probably gonna win this damn thing and make you more money than most, if not all, of your other male winners doesn’t mean you’ve now become diverse. What, you think GLADD is gonna give you an award now or something? Go frak yourself. Keep the tan dudes in, too. (Spraying down Alexis Twit with Mystic soooo does not count!)

Spread the word. Do it.

But every now and then, something comes along which is just too insane for words.

Tattooed wedding rings.

Calvin and / or Hobbes pissing.

Not even the crappiest of tramp stamps can compare to the stupidity of defacing one’s body in the name of an American Idol contestant.

Spread the word. Do it.