There's No Business Like Old Business

Before I move on to the wonders of HOLLYWOOD WEEK, I simply must do something with the scrawled notes I made on a Spiegel catalogue insert (because I like to keep an accurate record, don'tcha know).

Dear readers, let us travel back in time . . .

Actually, first go waaaay back to the guy who brought the bag of stuffed animals. I have nothing more to say about him, per se, but remember when he set down his bag? Didn't it look like it had more stuff in it? Do you think he had another audition after this one? Fascinating, really.

Loved Rocker Robbie, whose friends celebrated with Silly String. Especially loved when Ryan joined in the fun, then recoiled when he got Silly String in his hair. Oh, the horror.

Corliss and Brittany—it was nice to see Randy get some love.

Julie, the American Junior—I was too overwhelmed with loathing to hear a note she sang. My loathing has its own zip code, is what I'm saying. Dreadful girl.

Crazy-eyed Josh Jones, the glass cutter—while I hated the song he sang, I enjoyed his voice—and as I looked down to note this on my Spiegel page, I missed his crazy eyes entirely. I'm still not convinced this is enough of a reason to invest in Tivo, however . . . ("Crazy eyes, 24-7! Never miss a crazy eye again!" Yeah.)

Asia'h (it will take me all season to learn where to place the apostrophe), whose dad just died—Simon's gentleness with her made me bawl.

Brooke the Crowned Beauty Queen—how desperately I wanted her to suck. How deeply disappointing that she was okay-plus. Oh, the hate, the hate.

Amanda, the biker nurse—"Wow I really like her," I said to Mimosa, who snarked, "Do I know you?" To clarify: I don't like her voice at all, but she herself is a hoot.

Man, this is the season for sob stories! Makes A-Fed's tracheotomy scar seem like a hangnail.

Josiah lives in his car. I'm already tired of Josiah.

Li'l Martini is in love with Chiceze (I will learn how to spell it, I promise). Chiceze is a lot of fun. We could do worse.

I was psyched to see JoAnne, the plus-size model—at last, a big girl on the show who knows how to dress. We won't see her in a tucked-in shirt and jeans, I suspect. If she makes it out of Hollywood, that is, and given Simon's love for the plus-size in general . . . oh, yeah, we'll see her again. For sure. Yeah.

I can now toss my scribblings aside and join Brunie in Hollywood (baby!)!

Lady C OUT . . . for just a second.