Last night's brutal bludgeoning of the Beatles (it's called alliteration, English co-eds!!) has made me crabby; I almost wish they'd start over. David Cook, if I see you walking out with that guitar one more time cause you're the "rocker!!!" you will achieve your dream as a self-professed "word-nerd" and become a crossword clue. "24 Across: Neck sliced by E string on live tv dawg, 9 letters." Brooke, shut the fuck up when the judges are trying to tell how lucky you are that you don't mind Paula shaving your muff once a week, otherwise you'd be home long ago. And David Archuleta, you're the reason your parents stopped fucking. Knock that spittle-flying aw shucks! squint-eyed beaming at yourself shit off and go home. AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHH!!
Tonite Ramiele goes. She's been the worst for weeks now. Syesha, stay of execution. Maybe she'll be in luck and next week's theme will be "Mediocre Coma-Inducing Whitney Album Cuts."
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