Hey! T.Vo and Flipit here with a live blog of the finale! HOLLAAAAA!!! And now! For the last time this season! THIS! Is American Idol!
Spoiler alert! Donna Summer wins!
Tonight we get three times the magic! Three times the excitement! Three times the thrills! As any mathematician can tell you, three times zero is zero. Call PETA and arrange a truck to the glue factory, cuz this horse is just about beaten dead. THIS. Is American Idol!
Tell us a story, Paw!
This week on American Idol, Yoko got another free plug and I ate over 10,000 depression calories. Thanks, Nigel!
Being rich means never having to say you’ll practice proper hair maintenance.
This week, Neil Diamond proves that he’s the only person alive who can make his songs tolerable. He’s also the only person alive that looks like Bill O’Reilly made babies with Andrew Lloyd Webber, but that’s neither here nor there. This! Is American Idol!
There are times on American Idol where you’re left saying “Well, that was quite a shocker”, and there are times that you’re throwing Little Caesars at the TV and screaming “ROOBBBBBBBBBEEED!”
Guess what kinda night this was for me?
Previously on Big Brother, Sheila was forced into actually playing the game.
Go, Cougar!
It’s been almost a full week since Idol Gives Back and if nothing else, I have learned at least one thing. Teri Hatcher will never go away.
Dear Tink, Please leave your hags at the bar. Love, Flipit
What are you bitching about? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, NIGEL!
Ow! My back!
This week on American Idol, Paula and I were on the exact same page.
I woke up for this?
Tink descends from the sky into the now massive studio and gives us a wink. Tonight, there will be a new set! New lights! Platforms and lifts and globes and screens and mosh pits!!! One question. Would it have killed you to add a pitch pipe into your budget? Welcome to the finals! This! Is American Idol!
Last week on American Idol, Paula had me rolling on the floor until I was bruised on the inside and out. Goddamit, it was worth it.
And I am telling you I’m not goin, bitch!
Seven’s a lucky number. It’s also a movie so sick it makes you wonder if the end is near. I sense a theme! This. Is American Idol 7!
I sit in up in my bed with two fresh packs of Marlboros, a bottle of Stoli, and a six pack of Diet Coke. OK, fine. And a catron of ice cream, a bag of pretzels, and a box of pizza. It’s a special occasion! Mary Jane even promised to swing by to complete the BFF circle for the big night. Judge me later, this ain’t fat camp. THIS. Is American Idol, the END!
Tink stands in a dramatic ray of backlight and tries to make us understand the gravity of what we’re about to witness. They’ve seen ONE hundred thousand wannabes and are down to TWO. ONE plus TWO is three. THREE comes after TWO. TWO THREE. 23! It’s the sign of the devil! Someone save Jim Carrey from himself before it’s too late!
Still not grasping it? He snaps his fingers and the lights over the massive audience at the Kodak Theater come on. I have to admit….
If ever there’s a time to size up how big someone’s balls are, it’s tonight. Oh, keep it in your pants. This ain’t a drunken pee at a truck stop urinal. THIS. Is American Idol!
For the first time ever, I’m shocked into silence. This is your brain.
THIS. Is your brain on American Idol.
The show opens with the Top Three looking themselves in the mirror long and hard. They’ve beat hos, cake boys, faux rock and pony hawk to get here, but do they have what it takes to be the next Taylor Hicks?
You decide. This is democracy in action. And THIS. Is American Idol!
Last night I knew something was amiss when the Judges couldn’t muster up anything nice to say after LaKisha’s version of “Stayin’ Alive”. I’ve braced myself all day, and am now almost in a drug induced coma. It’s like that movie where Sandy Bullock knows her husband’s gonna die in a car crash and she can’t do anything about it. I’m tempted to skip tonight altogether, but I dry my tears and press play anyway. This ain’t a nursery. THIS. Is American Idol!
“You can’t kill the Boogie Man.” A little girl who saw her parents get murdered said that line on Heroes the other night and I raised my fist in solidarity when she did. You can’t kill the boogie, man. But the boogie can kill you (sorry it got your folks). There are only four Idols left and no one’s safe. Pull out your crucifixes and body glitter, because this is Boogie Night. And this. Is American Idol!
Tuesday night was one of the best shows of the season, with even the suckiest of the remaining contestants pulling off a good performance. Well, except for Jordin, but her screeching mess was way more entertaining than a home run. 
I snorted so much TrimSpa powder while I watched that I’m still awake, nervously awaiting the results. Since the two weeks totals were combined, tonight could be a shocker exit. It doesn’t help that last night we were reminded just how wrong the American people can be.
Like it or not, fate is in our hands. This isn’t recess, people. This! Is Amercian Idol!
