The X Factor – Surprise! The action is at Simon’s house!

Have you ever had strep throat? No? Well, let’s just say it’s no day at the beach. You become aware of every swallow you take. Every single one. And when you do, it’s like some evil little teeny tiny troll is living inside your gullet, with weeny knives that he stabs you with. You can’t eat. Forget it. Sleeping? Lovely until you wake up with a dry mouth and try to … swallow!

Why do I bring this up? You guessed it! Tonight I’m writing my review of The X Factor through a mountain o’ hurt. And those of you who have read my posts before, know that I’m emotional at the best of times. So, here’s the worst of times. And I find I have mostly cranky things to say about this week’s episode. I tried to be fair and balanced in my notes, while watching. But I just kept doodling the word “grr” in the margin of my loose leaf throughout the process of the four groups going to perform at the judges’ “houses.”

First of all, these can’t be the judges’ “real” houses. And if they are, the Fox peeps got some lawsuits coming when people GPS these things, or do whatever weirdos do to find celebrity homes.

Secondly? Why does this show continually use tape deck background music instead of real musicians? I could stand it at auditions; but really? Is your budget so low on Fox that we have prerecorded crap behind the singers? And I looooved when a judge would say “Go when you’re ready,” and the contestant would turn and nod to this imaginary band that was really a tape deck! Wha??? Some lucky folks actually got a piano or a guitar, but most were up Karaoke Alley without a paddle.

So. Raise your hand if you were surprised that Simon got the “girls group.” I internally (cause real laughing hurts) was busting a gut whenever they went to Simon’s “Den,” as one by one … each of the girls showed up poolside. Scantily clad, of course. And each tried to penetrate his sunglasses with croony tunes of lust and wanting. Holy smokes! It was kinda like the musical version of soft core porn! Made really creepy when the singer was fourteen year old Drew Somethingorother. I rather got the heebies.

The other houses are snoresville. Nicole and Paula keep shooting cotton candy out of their nostrils. And L.A. Reid doesn’t have much to work with in the boy group that’s jumping out at me. Then again. Maybe it’s just my illness speaking. In fact? Maybe the evil munchkin in my throat wrote this whole review! Hmmmm. That would be very Halloweeny, wouldn’t it?

Clacked by Tara Shrodes
on Oct 14, 2011 @ 03:18 EST5EDT