There was no rest for the weary on Day One in Hollywood for American Idol 2007. Not much for us home-viewers either. I felt like this whole episode was rushed along, squeezed into the skimpy 1-hour time slot. I don’t know if my memory is fucking with me, but I think I remember last year being a little more involved. I hardly saw shit this season and now I feel kinda gypped. They choose the 24 tomorrow? Already? Fuck.

The show started off with the 114 girls, in groups of six, given 30 seconds to prove they should stay, and the judges didn’t waste any time thinning the herd. Name-dropper Jory, the snobby gal who met the Queen of England, was in the first group, looking quite confident in her too-small vest and puffy sleeved shirt a la Paula. Oh, they were all cut, all six. Too bad. But that’s okay because now Jory will have more time to hang out and have tea with her pal, the Queen.

Although I loved Perla initially, all her wiggling and giggling got on my nerves fast and I was a little disappointed to see her stay in the game, while her group-mate Rachel (Army gal), got a quick ticket home. This proved to be the theme of the night for me. Couldn’t believe those annoying best friends Amanda and Antonella (of FPSA= Future Porn Stars of America) made it through, while Ashlynn Carr and Porcelana got kicked. What? Are they looking for slut-balls this year?

Nicole Turner got the boot after caving into the pressure from her mom and aunt to sing Ain’t No Way. Apparently, she just couldn’t accept that and had her momma come out and explain to the judges why it was her fault Nicole didn’t make it. Please, just take responsibility for your own actions and suck it up that you just weren’t good enough. I totally agree with Simon, who shouted in frustration, that it “wasn’t the song!” It wasn’t the song, it was her voice (and maybe the iridescent eye-shadow) that just wasn’t good enough. Now go put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

It was the same routine for the boys, although they weren’t really showing us much of the singing parts. I gathered that Sundance, Brian Miller, Matt Sato, Nick Pedro, beat-boxer Blake, Sean the Amish guy, and Phil who missed his wife birthing his kid made it through.

Then all of a sudden it was group time. The interesting thing this year was that the contestants could sing in co-ed groups, which I found very liberal. The usual bickering and bad choreography ensued. Although again, I felt very cheated, because I love the fucking groups and they fed me itty-bitty scraps of them. I wanted to see more of the goateed cowboy from last year! I didn’t even know he was back. And who did the Amish dude sing with? What did he sing?

Basically, we got to see four groups. FOUR! That was not enough for me, I was left feeling like a junkie with only half a bag. I needed more, was restless, irritable. I’d pay good money to see whatever was cut. I need an AI extra footage dealer. Let me know if you’re out there, I need the good shit too.

Anyway, Amanda and Antonella teamed up with a reluctant Baylie Brown, who got stuck in the middle of a best friend fight, when the Double A Team couldn’t pick a song. But it probably wouldn’t have mattered what song they chose, cause Antonella was the only one who remembered the words anyway. At least Amanda kept singing something, Baylie just stopped, stood there, and smiled that creepy blank-eyed smile. I guess being “commercial with a capital C” doesn’t matter when you’re an idiot, because Baylie got bumped off.

More girl-fighting in Perla’s group. She was partnered with Gina Glockson (who I was happy to see left the fake tattoo sleeves at home) and two other random girls that I didn’t take note of before. Perla was being a little attitudey, getting pissy when Gina pointed out she wasn’t in tune. Apparently, Gina is somewhat of a harmonizing Nazi and expected total perfection from her group members. Perfection she did not get, and Perla was left looking like a perky dumb-ass, when she totally forgot her lyrics and made up her own, which were very, very stupid. But did she stay in tune, you ask? I don’t fucking know, she screwed up the words, so who cares? Maybe Gina shoulda been a lyrics Nazi instead.

But the girls weren’t the only ones forgetting words to their songs. Pretty boy Matt Sato fucked his up too, after practically having to beg his way into the group in the first place. And he got kicked for it. It is a shame, because you know, his parents didn’t really love him before. They weren’t supportive of him. But after having won a ticket to Hollywood, he got a hug from his mom! Mommy said she loves him! Being on American Idol made his mom love him again. Well, if it was that important than he shoulda remembered the fucking words, cause now that he’s off the show, all that love from momma is going straight back down the shitter.

The best group by far was the one headed by Beat Boxer Blake. I still find him mildly annoying due to his resemblance to my sister’s asshole ex, but he did a damn impressive job of beatboxing an awesome background to his group’s rendition of How Deep Is Your Love. Great harmonizing, terrific solos, just a bang-up performance all around. But who is that curly-haired fat man? I’m sure I woulda noticed him before. Did he sneak in somehow?

Sundance sang with two ladies, L’Paige and Robyn, and he seemed like the stinker of the three to me. He kinda yelled his way through the song. Yet the girls got cut and he stayed. I don’t understand.

Finally, each of the 56 contestants gave a short individual performance (none of which were shown), then divided into 3 rooms. The first room included Gina, the cowboy from last year, Beat Boxer Blake, and the cute Asian guy Paul Kim. They made it through. Room number two included Sundance, the brother with the Indian name, and Antonella. They also made it through. The third room was full of the losers, including the sister with the Indian name and Amanda.

There was more boo-hooing when Indian bro found his sis was cut, and when Antonella discovered her BFF wouldn’t be sticking around either. All so very sad. There are 40 left, to be whittled down to 24 tonight, but a few burning questions remain. What happened to the Amish guy? Did my trio of hotties (Nick Pedro, Henry Bejarano, and Chris Richardson) stay in the game? Where is the 6’4” Amazon Anna? Are either of the roller skating waitresses left?

I guess we’ll find out tonight.