Guys and a Doll

Rat Pack Night with this oh-so-very adorable Top Five? My cup runneth over!

And it was most entertaining to try to guess this week's guest judge. I thought Matt's ideas (Michael Bublé, Rod Stewart) were good possibilities, and I honestly hoped that my guess, Harry Connick Jr., was dead wrong . . . and then when we saw who it was, well, silly us, because who could be a more logical fit for Standards Night than Jamie Foxx?

Yeah.

But the joke was on me (in case you didn't catch my subtle eye-rolling up there), because I thought he did a great job. Jamie and Quentin, they may not take the path of the more musical mentors (Manilow, say, or David Foster, who were also great with the Idolettes), but they know what makes a good performance, and they know how to communicate that knowledge to someone else. And since this show is as much about performance and popularity as it is about singing, that kind of mentor is not only useful but downright necessary.

Cute Kris opened the show, looking as handsome as all giddy-up (though I wish he'd shaved) and delivering a clean, quiet, assured performance of "The Way You Look Tonight," a song that does half the work for you by being so simply beautiful. It was a very grown-up performance for our sweet young man, and I loved it.

The judges (with the exception of Mr. Too Cool for School) are very glam and shiny tonight, and Paula is gift-wrapped!

Mimosa pointed out that Kris and Ryan are celebrating Twin Day. Oh those dear boys—I think they went suit-shopping together. And then bought those Miami Vice razors that leave just a bit of Don-Johnson stubble. And then made up a secret handshake and became aftershave brothers.

Jamie was so sweet, talking to Allison about who watches over her, that I started to well up a bit. And then my awesome girl stood still and simply sang that classic, torchy song, and the tears poured down my face. What a joy she is. A totally exquisite performance.

(Randy's been cracking me up lately, talking about he "worried" he gets when he hears what songs the Idolettes have chosen. Dude! Try some Ambien for that.)

I like Matt in a hat, but "My Funny Valentine" can be tough to sing (I wonder if Brunie will tell us her favorite singer of this song—in fact, if I remember correctly, the only person she wants to hear sing it), and I'm not sure he nailed it. The tempo was way too slow, and the beginning notes seemed off. (Dare I say "pitchy"? Ah, "pitchy"—the "artistry" of yesteryear.) It was okay, and definitely the most creative arrangement so far, but not a great performance, I fear.

And then Simon opens his piehole, and out pours incomprehensible gibberish. He loved Matt and didn't love Allison? I am at a loss. Is he trying to save Allison by making Matt's fans complacent?

Danny's up next and tells us that he's "not changing [the song] too much," to which I say, "Blow me down." I think I'm feeling so negatively toward Danny because I see him as Adam's main competition in the contest that nobody's talking about: Homophobic American Idol. There are people who simply won't vote for Adam, even if he's far and away the best singer the show has ever seen (which he might or might not be—that's not the point). Which makes Miss Congeniality Danny the winner by default, which drives me bonkers. And if it were Allison or even Cute Kris benefiting from America's bigotry, I might be less bent, but Danny is only my fourth favorite, so I'm pissed.

Anyway.

Danny sings, and it's fine, as expected, and a little dull for those of us who are not Danny worshippers. Whatever. There's a certain sameness to a Danny performance, week in and week out, and while vanilla with raspberry sauce may taste just fine, still, I'm not going to order it every week.

Mimosa: Napped through the whole thing.

And then the judges revealed that they're all on crack, or this is an episode of Fringe, or heaven knows what, as I am clearly watching one show and they are watching another. At the same time! Love slurp dude slurp awesome best slurp winner Danny! Whatever.

Thank goodness for my sweet baby Adam to bring us home! In his Elvis-white amidst the sea of classic dark suits, he reminds me of Tom Hanks going to the office party in "Big." But Adam can pull it off. I can't wait to see what he does.

And . . . it's great, as always, and fun, and entertaining, for sure . . .

But.

I'm a little disappointed, I admit. I don't want Adam's crazy glam rock opera stuff tonight. I want him to stand still and sing some Dino. I want him to channel Frank! I want him to tell me a beautiful story with a haunting melody!

I'll say this, though: Frank and Dean were masters of their craft, who sang their lives and seduced their audiences with their music, and while they might call this kid a punk, they would also applaud the musical risks he takes, and they would appreciate that when Adam is called to entertain, he puts on a show. It's not the way they would have done it—and damn, I would've liked to see him do it their way. But he was totally Adam, as he always is, and I really do believe those cats would approve.

And then they would pummel him.

Time to go dial my fingers into bloody stumps for my girl Allison. I've barely voted this season, but tonight she needs me, according to Simon, anyway.

Lady Chardonnay, OUT!