Hoik up your diamante g-string and grab yourself a $2 champers - it's LADIES' NIGHT at Idol! Tonight we've got six of the nation's best gals (ok, well, six of the nation's gals who turned up to auditions, anyway) and we'll be slashing them down to two. To celebrate, I've got two of my fave femme Idol sidecars with me, Audrey and Gloriana (who doesn't have a blog, but if she did I'd like to think it would have the tagline "Fun through excellence").
But first - there's that pesky matter of which two boys from last night to let through. Will it be Husny Thalib, the cassingle wearing Prince wannabe (please oh please oh please), tea-towel toting teen heart throb Matt Corby or second stage of teen-wolf transformation Daniel Mifsud?
"WHERE'S MY SCARF????!"
As it turns out, our first two Idol finalists are Matt (surprise surprise) and Jacob Butler. Who? Yeah I know, it's the guy who looks like Phil from Grinspoon. Huh? You know, the guy who sang the middle-of-the-road Austereo rock last night. Which? Oh YOU know, Rainbow Brite.
CHANGE THE COLOUR OF YOUR DAYYYYY - JACOB!
Not content to rest on the homemaker-esque laurels of last night's fashion disaster, Matt's wearing another tea towel inspired number around his neck.
He's a one man fashion trend.
I can only hope he wears something similar throughout the entire competition so that when he eventually wins, he can release a fashion label called "T" consisting purely of man sarongs made out of dishcloths sourced from Matt's mum's kitchen. Not to be outdone, Dicko is sporting a lilac check tablecloth that's even more dashing than Marcia's lilac throw rug from last night. Snaps to the D.
Audrey predicts that at some point in the competition, Jacob will attempt Augie March's One Crowded Hour. I concur. Marcia blesses Jacob, and thanks God that he's there.
"As if God's gonna care," shrieks Gloriana. Again, I concur.
On to our first chick-dol for the evening, and it's Sally Van Der Zwart. Bloody hell, did she actually get through, did she?
This girl scares me.
Sally is about seven feet tall and looks like the semi retarded offspring of Sophie Monk and a Bratz doll. Needless to say, there's something a bit odd about her. She's clearly one of those tall, thin girls who's not completely comfortable with being tall and thin (not surprising really, when it's possible half of the viewing population will confuse her with the mic stand). Also - Sally, Kelly Taylor from Beverly Hills 90210 called - she wants her hairdo back.
"That bitch totally stole my do."
She's attempting a bit of Kelly Clarkson's Never Again, which basically means she gets to shriek like she's rock and roll without ever really actually BEING rock and roll. Surprisingly, it's actually ok. But you know, it's KELLY CLARKSON.
Kyle says he thought she was nervous. Then he says people are watching her box and think it's "this big". No wonder she's bloody nervous. Oh no hang on, he said people are watching her IN a box that's "this big". We still don't know what his point is. Marcia said she was good backstage. We can only assume this means that Sally was invited to join the big homoerotic love in that happened in Holden's dressing room after last night's show. Dicko says he has an issue with Idol contestants covering other Idols' songs. Especially when it's KELLY FUCKING CLARKSON. Holden, who is sporting a rather natty little vest, says "Ming ming ming ming." No really, he does. Then he says it was GREAT that she sang Kelly Clarkson, she SHOULD have sung Kelly Clarkson, and he HATES that song, and it was the song that almost killed Kelly Clarkson's career. So, all in all, he makes about as much sense as he ever does.
Moving along to Natalie "I've got a massive keyboard" Gauci.
It might not be in shot, but you know that's where her hands are resting.
She's gotten into the true spirit of ladies' night by putting on a sparkly black singlet straight from the 50% off rack at Table 8 Harbourtown and teamed it with a pair of just-a-bit-too-tight black satin pants. The overall effect is what you'd get if Gloria Estefan fell into an oil slick. She's also wearing a very complicated black beaded necklace that reminds me of what a smoker's lung might look like if it were strapped to one's chest.
You have to have imagination for THAT, ladies and gentlemen.
She's singing some Christina Aguilera number, you know, that crap ballad she wrote about her dad. Natalie is boring, but has a nice voice, and she's pretty. Apart from the smoker's lung and the oil slick thing.
Marcia says Christina Aguilera has one of the finest voices in pop today. She fails to say anything about Natalie, because she's too busy trying to get the footy scores on her BRIGHT GREEN EARPIECE. Jesus, wardrobe - want to get a flesh coloured one next time? Dicko calls Holden "idiot boy". I'd love to leave it there, but have to mention that he goes on to say Natalie has turned "suburban" tonight, which is fairly accurate and so in the interests of journalistic integrity I feel I must report it. Holden says something about tones and light and shade and throws in a few more bits of "industry lingo" before screaming "SUPERB!" about 15 times and concluding with a resounding "YO!" Sigh. Will this be the new touchdown? Kyle says it wasn't smooth enough. Not sure if he's referring to the vocal delivery or Natalie's pants, which are so smooth it's possible if she sits on anything she'll slide right off. He also says she needs to change the nappy. I don't know what this means, but that's what I wrote down. Anyone got any ideas?
Next up is Cheray "Don't doubt me" Doughty.
Her favourite film is Forrest Gump. Run, Forrest, run!
Cheray wins the prize this evening for having the most appropriate name for ladies' night - you can just imagine a half-cut sheila, stilettoes in one hand, pack of Winnie Blues in the other, screaming it over the bar at the local. "OI CHERRRAYYYYYY! Get us anotha Breeza, would ya?"
Tonight Cheray has opted for some funk song, and I'll be buggered if I know what it is. All of us are too busy discussing how the scarf trend currently sweeping the top 24 may or may not be symbolic of the artistic nooses around their necks. It's all getting very deep and meaningful, but suddenly Gloriana's discussion of Foucault's sign, signifier and signified as relates to Idol neckwear is put to a stop when all of us realise Cheray is doing the "Mutto crouch".
Remember me? JUST BELIEVE.
This is followed by several minutes of squatting and thrusting that we quickly dub "The Metamucil Mamba". Does she need to go to the toilet? Is she doing an impersonation of Elaine from Seinfeld? Is she just trying to look sexy? Whatever she's doing, it's not attractive. Even Husny is shocked.
Dicko asks her where she pulled the rabbit from - so THAT'S what was shoved up there! That explains the dancing. He says it was "terrific, really terrific", and praises the performance for never getting "cheesy". Pardon? Cheray's thrust-and-warble put our family sized Capriciosa to shame! Holden says he wasn't sure how Cheray was going to reveal herself tonight, but then decides she's revealed herself as being Olivia Newton John. If only she'd revealed herself as Patrick McDermott instead, we could have solved that mystery once and for all. Then he calls her a "hot tomato". We assume he means "tamale", although in that atrocious red jacket she's wearing, maybe not. Marcia calls her Cherry and says she doesn't look like she sounds. For Cheray's sake, I'd bloody well hope not. Holden calls Kyle Voldemort, and Audrey the Harry Potter geek yells "HE'S NOT VOLDEMORT, HE'S WORMTAIL!" She swore all you geeks out there would know what that meant.
Whatevs, it's time for little Tarisai "Tiramisu" Vushe, who looks about five but is apparently actually 20.
Can I see your ID miss?
Yep. That about sums it up.
I secretly hope it's some sort of voodoo curse on Natalie Gauci, so that when the Idolites all get back to the mansion her giant piano is chewed to pieces on the living room floor, surrounded only by scraps of fur and shattered mirrorball.
Anyway, Tiramisu does a pretty rockin version of River Deep, Mountain High, even though she screams almost the whole way through as she usually does.
Holden says, in order: "Mini Marcia!", "Wooooooo!", "Force of nature!" and "Cosima, Cosima, Cosima!" Who? Don't worry, even Cosima has forgotten who she is. Marcia gets out her Idol-meter from last night and says it was great Tarisai started at one. Holden double checks HIS Idol-meter and says no, she started at 11 and went to 33. Marcia makes a mental note to buy fresh batteries. Dicko continues his sound bite campaign by saying "big notes win votes", but then snaps back to reality by describing Tarisai's outfit as "affordable". It might be affordable, Dicko, but christ knows where you'd actually BUY it. Or WHY.
Next up is Jesse "Homewrecker" Curran, who's come to Tarisai's fancy dress party as "1996".
Just another day at the office.
She's also decided to commit suicide on national television by attempting U2's One. I read with interest a blog article on the weekend nominating this song as the #3 worst song to try at karaoke. Here is an excerpt explaining why:
When you choose to sing Pearl Jam or Dave Matthews, you pretty much know beforehand that you’re going to have to do a flat-out impression of the lead singer. With One, though, you can’t really slip into full-on Bono impression without sounding like a crappy Mad TV sketch, nor can you sing the song in your own voice without sounding like an Idol reject who was bad but not in a unique or amusing way. You’ll be stuck in a perpetual state of partial-Bono impression that won’t sound like anything, will damage your vocal chords, and really begin to grate on people long before you come to the excruciating two minutes of "oooohhh ooohhhh!! haaaaaaaa!" at the end.
Clearly Jesse read the same article on the weekend, as she doesn't even try to do a Bono impression (Cheray sort of took care of that earlier anyway, what with all the quatting and crouching and meaningful stares). Instead, she looks deep within her soul and summons her inner nanna, pulling out a voice that sounds like a rickety octogenarian attempting O Come Let Us Adore Him at the Sunday service.
"Ewwwww noooo! That's AWFUl! I don't like it at all!" yells Gloriana after two lines, stuffing her head between two couch cushions to deafen the sound.
She's right, it truly is awful. It sounds like a cat mating with a broken beer bottle.
"People should be automatically removed from the competition for sitting on a stool," comments Audrey. I concur.
When Jesse's performance is over and the pain finally subsides, Kyle says he wanted her to blow him, but she was a bit too Julie Andrews. Hang on, I thought Jesse was blowing James Blundell now? Oh no wait, he wanted her to blow him AWAY. My mistake. Marcia says it was a bit too polite (you know, as opposed to the "parental advisory" version of One in which Bono sings "Have you come here to play motherfucking Jesus to the bitch-ass lepers in your head"). Jesse replies that she needed to do a polite song to make up for her "rudeness". Marcia assumes she's talking about blowing James Blundell while he's still married and says "Don't worry, today's news is yesterday's fish and chip wrappers."
"I meant the rudeness of my previous songs..." ventures Jesse.
Cue awkward silence.
Dicko gives the entire history of U2 and discusses their back catalogue for about 20 minutes before describing Jesse's performance as "a bit of a roadcrash". Perhaps not as BIG a roadcrash as Marcia's show stopping comment just then, but a roadcrash nonetheless. Holden says it was a beautiful, fresh, simple take on the song. Because One IS such a complicated song to begin with, isn't it?
Jesse cements her place in my least favourite Idol glory box by doing the "phone" hand symbol at the end. Bye Jesse.
Finally tonight is Lana "I'm Not Lara Croft" Krost, doing Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry. Yes, Fergie. Let's hope she doesn't take the impression too far and attempt this:
Clearly Lana got the fancy dress memo too, as she's come as one of those dolls you put on the top of toilet rolls in the bathroom.
Big girls don't cry... until they look in the mirror.
It's ok, YOU'RE INNOCENT, YOU'RE PURE, we get it. You don't have to actually DRESS like the driven snow.
Despite this dreadful outfit, she is really rather gorgeous, and has a very pretty voice to boot. But yawwwwn. Bring Husny back, I say.
Marcia says she looks like a picture, but neglects to say what of. I'm thinking maybe Miracle Whip. Dicko borders on creepy by saying "You're growing. You're growing REAL well."
"As long as he doesn't say HE'S growing," mutters Gloriana.
Then he slurs a sentence involving the terms "default position" and "slipping in", which is followed by Holden's comment that Lana is a pretty girl but she left him untouched. Suddenly it's my turn to stick my head in between the couch cushions.
And then it's all over for another night. Final comments, girls?
Gloriana: "Really disappointing on every level."
Audrey: "Disappointing atthe beginning, trailed off in the middle, and the less said about the end the better."