American Idol New York City started off with a high-strung, snippy gay man with a giant head. Seems fitting, dontcha think? The place was packed, yet only 35 were gifted with a golden ticket. And my prediction was correct: there was an assload of weirdos.

However, NY weirdos were a tad more intense than most we’ve seen so far this season. I mean, I was able to distinguish at least 5 different types of actual personality disorders in this bunch. So we’re talking real crazies. And FYI, I’m a counselor in my day job, so I’m pretty fucking serious.

Mental case #1: Our large-headed gay Ian. Diagnosis: Narcissist.
This guy’s over-inflated ego was busting out all over, which may account for his oversized head.

Mental case #2: Ashanti Johnson. Diagnosis: Histrionic.
She went to Hollywood twice before and got kicked, but she’s back for more. When they gave her the no-go, girlfriend put on such a melodramatic performance she should make her own Lifetime movie. Oh, wait. Fantasia already did that.

Mental case #3: Nakia, the big crazy girl who walks like a Weeble Wobble. Diagnosis: Dependent. She had the upbeat psycho energy going strong during her version of Dancing in the Streets, but as soon as she realized the judges thought she stank, she crashed hard.

Mental case #4: Sarah Goldberg, with the giant red cowboy hat, who’s UNIQUE! WOO! Diagnosis: Borderline. She admitted she can’t sing, yet she truly thought that they should put her through anyway. Plus, my Murphy dog was growling like a son-of-a-bitch during her Selena song, which sucked ass. And he’s got a nose for the borderlines. Can sniff ‘em out a mile away.

Mental case #4: Holy shit, what the fuck was that, Isadora/Julie. Diagnosis: Schizotypal. She was just fucking nuts, and really had that crazy person look going too. Messy smudged makeup, mismatched clothing, wooden sandals with yellow socks, polyester pants. You don’t even need any psychological training to know that girl’s a wacko. Plus, she had the “crazy eyes.”

I’m telling you, I’m waiting for the day when one of these lunatics goes off the deep end and tries to kill one of the judges. Oh, it’s gonna happen. They should be packing tranquilizer darts just in case.

Anyway, the Golden ticket recipients were a pleasant group. I found a few mildly annoying, but nothing too severe. The best friend duo of Amanda and Antonella irritated me a bit. Amanda’s version of Crazy by Patsy Cline was mediocre at best and Antonella was somewhat better, but honestly, they’re nothing more than Paris and Nicole wannabes. As soon as they get the ax, they’ll be off shooting porn somewhere.

Jory had a good voice, but I found her a little pretentious. You know, name-dropping the Queen of fucking England and shit. I’ll admit that if you’ve gotta name-drop to boost the self-esteem, the Queen is a pretty good one to drop, but the girl met her when she was, like, 7-years-old. Get over yourself.

However, there were ones that I love, love, loved. Porcelana’s choice to wear skanky super-low rise jeans to show off pussy cleavage was questionable, but her voice rocked, so I can give it a pass just this once. Plus, she had a nice hard edge, like she’s a little bit evil, which is awesome. And Kia Thornton was adorable, belting out an Aretha song. She cried, nearly had a nervous breakdown when she made it, but she could pull it off ‘cause she’s not a fucking psychopath. I was actually excited for her.

But the best thing for me in this round of winners was the hot boy trio of Henry Bejarano, Chris Richardson, and Nicholas Pedro. Mmm, scrumptious. Henry is quite possibly the most perfect specimen of African American manhood since Taye Diggs. No shit, that boy’s gorgeous. And the love song he did, had me melting off the couch. Then I heard he was only 16 and I kinda felt like a dirty old lady. Whoops.

Chris Richardson was cute in that “just your average college guy” kinda way. Humble, sweet, with a fantastic voice. He performed a Donny Hathaway song, which almost reminded me of that troll from last year, Elliott, but a million times more attractive. I was also thrilled to see Nicholas return, after “bowing out” (read: quit because he was being a wuss) last year. Yeah, he quit because he couldn’t remember the words to Buttercup, which is one of the simplest songs ever. There’s only, like, five lines. This leads me to believe he’s kinda stupid, but that’s okay because he’s hot as hell. Wouldn’t wanna try to have an intelligent conversation with him, but fucking him would be fantastic.

All in all, the NY auditions were quite entertaining, and produced a delectable hot boy hat trick, so I would deem them successful. Next week is Birmingham, Alabama, the home of Reuben, Bo and Taylor, so I’m interested to see what else they can dig up. I mean, how the fuck can there be more than 3 talented people in Alabama?