And it wasn't even his audition.

“Where were you when it all started?” a sober placard at  the beginning of “American Idol”‘s first episode of 2012 asked? Well, ten years ago, when the then-crazy sounding talent show started, I was in my living room in York, Pa., asking my roommate “Are you watching this?”

Yeah, she was, and 10 years later that crazy talent show has become one of the things people ask me the most about, besides whether I am Macy Gray. Which I still am not.

So now I sit in my living room in Lake Worth, 10 years older, and find that, just like in “Dazed and Confused,” I keep getting older and the contestants stay the same age. Actually, they seem like zygotes. Tiny singing showbiz zygotes. David Leathers, Jr., or as his friends call him “Mr. Steal Your Girl” (?), is the first one we see in Savannah. He’s wearing sunglasses and a tie, and his confidence, and boast to have won against last year’s winner Scotty McCreary in a previous competition, means he’s either the best thing ever or a sad singing shame.

And…he’s fabulous. Good for you, Zygote in a Tie.  In an unrelated note, Steven’s theme for today seems to be Cross Dressing Pimp. It’s an odd choice, but we salute you for your commitment. And I think I have that lipstick.

16-year-old Gabi Carrubbaof Connecticut tells us she’s been dancing since she was a year old in her diapers. Sometimes, that means you’re talented, and sometimes that might just mean that the diaper is about to do its job, you know? She gets some points for hugging Nigel “Dancey Pants” Lythgoe first, making Pimpster make that weird orgasmic duck face he does when he really loves something. She also makes short work of Maroon 5′s “Sunday Morning” and was born to be on a slow jam mix tape. Enya, Sarah Maclachlan and Dido, make her a pot of tea and welcome her to the mellow club.

A long string of talented tinies (Why are they all so young, except for one 28-year-old? Is no one over 20 allowed to have vocal chords anymore?) are seen, meaning that we’re being set up for something hideous. You know it. It’s going to. And you’re gonna want to vomit, or laugh and point and mock. Or perhaps all three.

And…it’s young, sad Jessica Whitely, who claims to sing at a lot of sporting events. Apparently at events that some benevolent cousin organizes and gives her spots in, because girl screams like she’s being strangled with a bullhorn. “You let my horrible cousin sing the anthem again, or I swear to God I’m not telling you where the fuse box is!” She claims to be dehydrated, but water would not make that better. She takes her rejection well, but says “I’ll see you in Texas,” leaving the judges to panic like “Wait, what did she say? Is she coming back? Can we move Texas, or perhaps tell her that the state is closed?”

She’s a clown. And she’s coming to your town. Y’all should move.

Seacrest look-alike Shawn Kraisman wears a coat and tie and looks like a member of a boy band made up of Secret Service agents. If he can’t hack it here, he should maybe start one. Man, they do look alike. This is disturbing. Make it stop. Sing or don’t kid, because I’m starting to believe that there WAS some sort of government conspiracy that took some of Seacrest’s DNA, kept it in a lab and…he’s doing the Chi-Lites. He’s not bad. But in that way that makes you sad because if he had some lessons or resolved a note once in a while, he could have been better. He doesn’t make it, and we’re spared from a whole season of “Mister Mister,” a reverse-race version of “Sister, Sister” about twins who sing and insist on hosting everything.

Shannon Magrane is the tall volleyball playing daughter 1987 World Series pitcher Joe Magrane. Dad’s still hot. Love when that happens. No, Steven did not just say to a huge baseball player that his 15-year-old girl is “hot, humid and happening.” When he’s dressed like, to paraphrase “The Boondocks,” A Pimp Named Talkback. Does he think before he speaks? Of course not, which is part of his weird little charm, I suppose. I imagine it gets him beat up alot. But he’s a charming little innappropriate man. And she’s got a great bluesy voice, which mean Big Daddy doesn’t have to beat Steven up. And the world is as it should be.

I love Savannah – somewhere, right now, Paula Deen is holding a stick of butter at The Lady and Sons and figuring out how to fry it in lard, put it on some greens and call it dinner. (And delicious.)

Clown Town reel. They’re not making me give them more attention than they’ve already gotten. Their parents have done enough.

Someone who could use some support of…somebody….anybody…is Amy Brumfield, who lives in a tent in the woods with her boyfriend because they can’t afford to live anywhere else. Wow, that’s sad. Her voice, however, give me chills. It’s a quiet, strong, soulful, unadorned instrument, and I want to cry. “The spirit of the children of the woods snuck into you,” Steven say encouragingly. Isn’t there a bad horror movie about that? Should we call a priest? Anyway, she’s in. Hope she does well.

Joshua  Chavis has left his nerves out in the lobby with his boyfriend, along with his common sense – he’s yelling and beating up walls and inciting that cat yowl sound they play. His voice is out there, too. Oh Lord. Was this ever funny, this delusional thing when the producers encourage untalented fools to come back three times or something just to be part of a gag reel where the gag is on them? He’s not even remarkably bad, just bad, and I get the weary feeling that they have to have bad singers so bad that no one in a chicken suit showed up the first day and they went “What do we have? Effeminate backwards baseball cap-wearing Southern kid who loves JLo? He’ll do. Until a chicken comes in.”

He’s not the worst singer, but he’s the worst loser, crying into the phone and cussing out the camera. That’s ugly, man. Don’t be ugly.

Carrie Underwood enthusiast Stephanie Renaeis wearing the world’s sparkliest pink shirt and is singing that horrible “Inside Your Heaven” song, one of the worst Idol songs ever recorded. And that’s before Kara showed up! It’s…OK. I hate those nasal baby teen pageant voices, because it’s like they’re not baked yet. Steven says yes, Randy says no, and Jennifer says yet. Meh. Randy thinks she needs lessons, and he’s right. Can we give her lessons before we have to see her again? Because that’s working my last nerve, and Joshua Chavis and his hissy fit are still on it. Someone’s gotta get off it, because otherwise my husband and cat are gonna have a bad spring.

Schyler Dixon, who auditioned with her brother Colton last year, has returned. He made it almost all the way but has decided not to do it this year and let his sister have the spotlight. And the stupid judges reward his chivalry by making her audition all about him. MARCIA MARCIA MARCIA! That was painful. You can almost smell the therapy. She has a beautiful voice, but then they encourage Colton, who has said he doesn’t want to do this, to sing (they didn’t have to push that hard, honestly.) I hope his sister is OK with this. He’s like One RepColton. She looks like she wants to throw darts at him. Her smile is heartbreaking…Oh Geezy is this really happening??? Are they actually giving him a better review at her audition? This is so innappropriate. They let them both through, and Schyler goes off to write a rock opera “Daggone Stupid Brother.”

That was NOT OK.

Shouldn’t someone be really bad about now?

Yes, there they are! But not on my blog! They’re all crying and I feel bad. But it doesn’t mean I want to know them.

Lauren Minkhas an awesome job with folks with intellectual disabilities. She’s 25, and as an old person I really hope she’s good, because the zygotes are winning. It shouldn’t be a competition…wait! It is! I kinda love her. She’s does “Country Strong” better than Gwyneth Paltrow, which only annoys me because it reminds me that “Country Strong,” the movie, exists, and I wish it didn’t. Randy is right that she has a Jennifer Nettles thing about her. Adorable.

We’re here on the second day of Atlanta, and it’s apparently wicked hot, which is just  the right temperature for some fried catfish with hot sauce. Don’t fight the heat. Embrace it and serve it with some hushpuppies, like my grandma would have.

Oh, now they’re making fun of Mawuena Kodjo, a sweet kid from Togo who has a thick accent and sings country. This is probably gonna be slightly xenophobic and suck. And it sure is!  Yuck. Again, it’s kinda evil that someone encouraged this nice-seeming kid, who appears to be so earnest, to come back eighty times to be made fun of. It’s awful. He’s so tone-deaf that tone deaf is filing a defamation law suit. Oh dear. I love that some people believe this is still the land of opportunity, even in this economy, but unles you daddy can buy you some AutoTune, it can’t give you a singing voice. Seacrest, who I no longer love, takes him out for further humiliation – I love the sweet older man in the trucker cap who helpfully says “Are you a runner?” as if to say “Sweet boy, is there anything else you can do?”

The folks on the sidewalk want him to go to Hollywood, probably because that means he won’t be there in Savannah singing at them. This was ugly, Idol. I don’t love you right now.

Ashlee Altise invented a move called the Joy Hop. This could go either way. This much confidence is usually rewarded with the Clown Reel. Step lightly, Confident One. Wait…she’s amazing, with a soulful “Come Together.” She’s got too much personality for this show. They’ll throw tacks in her way and stop her Joy Hop tires. It’s gonna happen.

And…more badness. Bye! Go home now. Learn a skill. Feed some orphans. Most importantly,  GO HOME.

W. H. Thompson, from Appomattox, is unemployed, having quit his job at the Federal prison to come on “Idol.” His wife is six months pregnant. If he’s not good, I’m gonna be very sad. He’s pretty good, if not completely faithful to a key. Steven thinks he isn’t ready, JLo likes him and Randy…please don’t do this to me on the first day, Jackson. He gets through! Yay! My husband and cat survive another night without having tea thrown at them.

There’s a “Young girls love Steven Tyler” reel and it’s skeeving me out because…STOP. Lawsuits are standing by. Erica Nowak, who says he’s her future ex-husband, gives him a butt squeeze. She has one of those shouty voices that might be mistaken for a singing voice but actually isn’t. It’s not singing. It’s pretending. Like pretending that 16-year-olds think Steven Tyler is hot.

Next up to be ogled is NBA dancer and Blake Lively/Carrie Underwood hybrid Brittany Kerr. She’s got a solid Joss Stone voice, but doesn’t blow me away. She needs more emphasis. To his credit, Tyler refuses to take the gross flirty bait from JLo, and gives her the nod without touching her. JLo wasn’t feeling her, which makes me think they decided when they saw this tall pretty girl that someone had to say no to give drama, or that JLo doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Either are possible.

Let’s round it out with pawn shop scion Phillip Phillips, whose parents must hate him for giving him that name. Wait, that’s his dad’s name too, and apparently he was like “I’m not gonna be alone in this forever. Welcome to your name, boy. Get used to the confused looks now.”

He wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t fill every space with some weird drunk scat. Wait…it got better. Take a breath and slow down. My cat is singing back to him, and that makes me love him. Now, he’s doing acoustic bluesy “Thriller” and I want to adopt him and give him a better name. Please love him, judges, because my cat likes him, and like it or not, she’s stuck in this thing, too, because she can’t afford her own place and she doesn’t have a tent.

And…he’s in. Love it. I haven’t hated life yet! Must be better talent, better editing, or my fast foward button. But my spirit has all year to be broken. You know it’s gonna happen.