Fat Whitney won! It only took us seven years and 10 cycles, but one of the juicy sisters finally went home with the title of America's. Next. Top. Model. Yay!

I'm thrilled with the results, but last night's episode was the weirdest "Top Model" finale I've ever seen. Where was the drama? The suspense? The energy? It's almost as though the editors lost their will to live after last week's booting of Dominique. And that's understandable - that hot tranny mess was the breakout star of this cycle, bringing back levels of delusion and stupidity like we haven't seen since Cycle 6's Leftover Lady, Jade. I honestly missed Dominique last night.

But that's no reason to give short shrift to the Final 3, who - in my opinion - were the strongest F3 since Cycle 3's Eva, Amanda, and YaYa. Any one of them could have won (except maybe Fatima). And yet, last night was so perfunctory and felt like such an after-thought, I had to wonder if maybe the whole show was just over it all and ready for summer break.

The girls did their CoverGirl commercial and photo shoot, which none of them really rocked. In the first panel Fatima was the surprise elimination - her delivery was clipped and robotic, sure, but her photo was beautiful and Anya's commercial was an unintelligible disaster - and she was basically just shuffled off into obscurity. Then the big fashion show was crammed into what seemed like five minutes. The final runways on this show are typically insane spectacles. We've had underwater catwalks, fashionable stiltwalkers, huge flower-covered Thai temples, and freaking ghost brides for Christ's sake. This time they had gorgeous Donatella Versace gowns and some scantily dressed man meat, but almost zero fanfare. And the girls only did two passes, versus the usual, like, five! Where was the swelling music? Where was the dazzling light show? Where was Tyra making an ass of herself, like usual?

I had heard that the show spent way too much money on Cycle 9 (what a waste that was...) and so had to really cut back the budget for this season. Maybe this is where the fat was trimmed? (No pun intended, Whitney.)

In any event, if you'd told me weeks ago that an Anya vs. Whitney Final 2 would result in Whitney winning, I'd have slapped you silly. I just didn't think it was possible. While the judges' criticisms last night were even more obtuse than usual (I could not for the life of me comprehend what Tyra was saying about Whitney's ugly facade in that first panel), I actually think they got it right. Whitney totally won the runway walk-off. She was way swishy and over-the-top, but Anya couldn't keep a straight line and seemed distracted, like she was walking through the quad on her way to pre-calc. Anya should have taken the portfolio review hands down, but I think Whitney ended up holding her own. I forgot how many of her photos I really liked.

Which is not to say that the judges didn't totally cherry pick those suckers - notice that the airport and Renaissance diva shots were nowhere to be found, and those were some of Whitney's weakest. There will undoubtedly be people saying that Whitney won because Tyra wanted a plus-sized (excuse me, full-figured) model to finally win it, not because she was the best model. And yeah, that's probably the case. But so what? If it was really about the best model, either Kat, Claire, or maybe Fatima would have gotten the crown, but it's rarely about that. It's about who is marketable and a role model. And I think Whit is. She's absolutely stunning, she's entertaining, and she can take beautiful photos, speak well, and walk a runway. She'll never be a high-fashion model, but this show will never really produce a successful couture-appropriate winner (Jaslene was probably our best bet). Whitney is a very good winner, and I look forward to her CoverGirl spots next season. She can't possibly do worse than tragic Saleisha, who we can forget ever existed. Now let us never speak of her again.

I've heard people complaining that overall, Cycle 10 was mediocre at best. And to that I say, rubbish. It's true that the girls couldn't compare aesthetically to some of the earlier crops (this was an especially broke-ass bunch), but I haven't seen such an entertaining bunch of chicks since Cycle 6. The drama, the entertainment, the fresh bitchery - it was all there, folks. "You're a shady bitch!"? "I hope you choke on your f**king coffee!"? "Frankensteiny"? These are instant classics, my friends.

Bring on Cycles 11-20, bitches!

Caught the preview screening of "Speed Racer" last night at Greece Ridge. When I first heard about this project I groaned. The Wachowskis definitely biffed the last "Matrix" flick (I actually didn't hate the second one), but it seemed like a waste of their considerable directorial talents to have them adapt possibly the most frivolous cartoon of all time. It's a kid who drives cars really fast. That's about it.

But then I saw the previews, and my interest was piqued. The Technicolor visuals looked mighty impressive, and the brief snatches of racing footage excited me -- and I couldn't care less about auto racing in the real world. Could the Wackhowskis actually turn this stupid cartoon into a great movie?

The answer is yes - mostly. The movie has some flaws, specifically that it is too long (it's rated PG and is clearly aimed at kids, and yet clocks in at over two hours) and the plot is way more complicated than it needs to be. But if you can coast through the quieter, plot-heavy sequences, the vision, the characters, and especially the action add up to one of the most satisfying blockbusters I've seen in a long time.

The basic plot follows Speed Racer (Emile Hirsch) as he ascends from local racing favorite to a rising star in the hyper-popular global racing circuit. He's courted by the shysty head of big ol' sponsorship company (Roger Allam, in what SHOULD have been Tim Curry's role), but ultimately passes on a life of luxury out of allegiance to his family, which feels strongly that corporations have ruined racing. This leads us to a complicated plot involving the attempted ruination of Speed's family (which includes perfectly cast John Goodman and Susan Sarandon as his parents, Paulie Litt as kiddie-bait comic relief Spritle, and Chim Chim the monkey), hostile corporate takeovers, the mob, dangerous road races, and ninja assassins.

While adults shouldn't have trouble following the story's overall arc -- although the non-linear timeline occasionally confuses -- kids will likely be totally lost, pulled in every so often by the goofy antics of Spritle and Chim Chim and the intermittent races, of which there are only four. And that is a problem. This movie is clean enough, and CGI is so stunning that I think my 7-year-old nephew would love it. But the long stretches devoted to character arcs would totally lose him and most of his contemporaries.

But oh, those races. It's kind of hard to encapsulate the visual concept for this film. It's certainly Asian influenced, with a Willy Wonka color palette -- everything is crazy bright. The race tracks owe more to outlandish video games like F-Zero or Mario Kart than actual racing. There are huge jumps, hairpin turns, corkscrew twists, and insane obstacles, like 10' spikes lining the track. The cars themselves come with hydraulic jumps, carbonite cutters, chained maces, and in one memorable instance, a beehive catapult. The racing scenes are insane, thrilling, just about the coolest thing I've ever seen. I wanted more more more. If NASCAR looked like this, I'd be in the stands every race.

The cast does a uniformally good job bringing to life what are ultimately simple, iconic characters. Speed Racer doesn't exactly have much depth -- he likes to drive fast, and he's unflinchingly good -- and Hirsch does get somewhat drowned out by all the action and sparkle. Christina Ricci goes mainstream in the role of his helicopter pilot girlfriend, Trixie. She looks and acts fantastic, and the chemistry between Trix and Speed is great (yet wholly innocent). I just wish there was more of her in the film. Used in just the right amount is Racer X (Matthew Fox from "Lost," an inspired, if not entirely age-appropriate choice), the mysterious driver who works to bring down the mob that's been fixing races for decades. There are several great fight scenes involving X, including one with the whole gang in a mountain pass that should be the standard by which all movie fight scenes are judged.

I left the theater feeling satisfied and invigorated -- you know how that last race is going to end, but it's thrilling nonetheless. Unfortunately, the bad buzz is already building for the film, with the fanboy community (read: geeks) openly bitching about how it's too long, and poo-pooing the changes from the original cartoon (a Mach 6 instead of a Mach 5? Quelle horror!). This is unfortunate, but not exactly unexpected. The comic/anime/cartoon/video game nerd community seems to delight in tearing things down, putting a high premium on bashing things online so that they'll look big and tough and cool, and a low premium on independent thought. This can have a domino effect (I just saw one negative review over at Newsarama, in which dozens of commentors responded along the lines of "Boy, I knew this would suck; can't wait to see it fail") and might lead to the film stalling before it even gets out of the blocks. (Sorry, I know; in my defense it's the first bad racing metaphor I've used.) And that's a shame. "Speed Racer" isn't a perfect film, but it's totally better than its source material deserves.

Was at the Hanson concert Monday, so I had to wait until last night to catch up on the return episode of CW's fab new teen soaper, "Gossip Girl." (Yes, apparently I am a 13-year-old girl.) I gave up on the show in the fall after being initially unimpressed by the first two episodes, but my friends recently forced me to watch the entire first half of season 1 through totally legal electronic downloads *cough cough*. I discovered that this show is like impossibly well-dressed crack. So I was desperate to get my fix of B, S, N, C, V, Lonely Boy, and Little J.

Monday's episode didn't disappoint. The bitchery! The drama! The amazing clothes! (Well, except for that Pilgrim's Promise-looking frock Blair wore during her walk of shame into the quad; for wearing that I'd have dumped yogurt on her head too, social pariah or not.)

Brief recap: Blair Waldorf was the Queen Bee of the Upper East Side high school elite, but she fell from grace after gossip spread that she'd been sleeping around with two guys at once. Social-climbing Jenny Humphrey is a middle-class Brooklynite who's at the posh school on scholarship, and had been sucking up to B and her clique for months in order to fit in. Blair's BFF, Serena, was chagrined to find out that her mother is engaged to the father of Chuck, the school's creepy drug fiend/pervert/evil genius. And we're off!

I'd been looking forward to the sparring between Blair -- a glorious bitch, the true heir to Alexis Carrington's tiara -- and Jenny, who has shown herself to be quite the gifted student of the arts of lying, backstabbing, and delicious bons mot. Now that Blair has been de-throned, Jenny seems poised to take her place. Last night was the first round of the title bout, and both women made brilliant moves. Jenny offeried up hope of reconciliation and a return to social standing before kicking Blair while she was down. Blair humiliated Jenny in the worst possible way (Rice Crispy treats! You devil!), and inadvertently revealed her to be a high-fashion thief. And just when things looked like they would all be resolved, with Blair back on top, along came Jenny with a brilliant masterstroke that assured that this storyline isn't going anywhere soon.

On the S and C tip, Serena kept getting all sorts of mysterious presents throughout he episode -- porn, cases of champage, cocaine, etc. -- which she assumed was a prank by her disgusting soon-to-be-step-brother. S succeeded in getting Chuck kicked out of their gorgeous penthouse suite, but ultimately discovered that the "gifts" were form someone altogether different: "G," identified in the previews for next week as Georgina, the new character played by "Buffy" alum Michelle Trachtenberg, who is apparently a psycho bitch determined to bring down reformed Serena's perfect world. Awesome.

Aside from the fantastic writing, acting, and costuming, I'm struck by how fast this show moves. Your average nighttime soap develops at a snail's pace (I'm currently working through "Melrose Place" Season 4 on DVD, and the arcs on that show can take up to six or eight episodes, at least). I expected Blair's social destruction to last at least the rest of the season, but now I'm not so sure. With Georgina on the way and Jenny already getting her comeuppance (at least partially), could she already be back on top? I guess you really can't keep a bad girl down.

TV is in a weird place right now. Most of the big shows are finally coming back after that damnable strike, but it's been a rocky return for many of them. (Both "30 Rock" and "The Office" have seriously regressed, in my opinion, and I'm curious to see what happens when most of the ABC drams return next week.) So with the tried-and-true shows trying to rediscover their grooves, and few new shows on the air, it could have been a rough couple weeks.

Thankfully, we have VH1. The network was just about to lose me-again-since its "Celebreality" programming block has seriously gone to the crapper. Despite its somewhat shocking ending and what looks to be a fantastic reunion show (blows to the head! hair pulling!), "Rock of Love 2" came nowhere close to living up to the debauchery of the original season. The "Flavor of Love" franchise is officially toast, as this latest, third installment is just clearly going through the motions so that Flav can line his clocks with more bling. "Celebrity Fit Club" has increasingly focused on the other meaning of "fit," as the supposed weight-loss program increasingly focuses on its "stars" getting drunk and then having embarrassing meltdowns in front of panel. And don't even get me started on "Egotrip's Miss Rap Supreme."

But there is a light, and it comes from one of those tacky saint candles. "Viva Hollywood" premiered Sunday night on the alleged music channel, and it is amazing. Combining the most compulsively watchable elements of reality TV (impossibly attractive, horny people all living in one house; an emotionally brutal elimination process; washed-up celebs debasing themselves for a few more scraps of fame) with the even MORE compulsively watchable elements of Latin telenovelas, it is maybe the best show ever.

The purpose of the show is to find the next great Latin telenovela star. Except that it's based in America and the would-be actors speak English. Yeah, I don't get it either. For those who don't know, telenovelas are Spanish-language soap operas, and they are a million times better than their American counterparts. Whereas it takes months for anything to go anywhere in U.S. soaps, in a single episode of a telenovela I watched on Univision, a young woman cheated on her husband, discovered she had cancer, was cured of cancer, discovered her husband cheating on her with her best friend, and then moved on to another hot guy. In one episode! At least I think that's what happened. It was in Spanish, and I only caught maybe 30 percent of what they were saying.

Back to "Viva Hollywood": In the premiere episode the 12 contestants moved into La Casa de Locos (literally "The Crazy House") to learn the seven deadly sins of telenovelas. The first lesson was "Passion," which somehow translated into stage fighting. The actors paired up and learned how to slap, punch, pull hair, and throw drinks in people's faces; then they were given their first scenes (all in English, which really tripped up some of the non-native peakers), all of which were based around their new faux fighting skill sets. A jealous maid and her rich trophy wife boss toppled into the pool. A rancher attacked his farmhand for sleeping with his mother. And in the best scene, two sisters threw handfuls of spaghetti at one another and then wrestled on the ground after the one slept with the other's boyfriend after becoming sexually compulsive following a car accident caused by the first one. Love it!

Every week co-host Carlos Ponce (total fox) picks the person who performed the worst in the challenges and puts them up for elimination. And then, in a delicious twist, the second person is selected by popular vote of the house, which has already fractured into pretty obvious cliques. The two selected contestants then participate in El Duelo ("The Duel"), in which they beg, plead, and cry in front of the judging panel-preceded over by Maria Conchita Alonso, still fierce despite her waxen face-and Alonso ultimately decides which one goes home. The contestants discover their fate by watching a pre-recorded soap scene in which the two possible eliminees are in mortal danger, and only one survives. Whoever "dies" leaves the house. Freaking genius.

In the first episode we lost zaftig single mother Jainmy. She had potential to be a delicious bitch, but ultimately she just turned out to be kind of a self-important pill, and frankly a pretty crappy actress. Interestingly, her challenger, Janet, performed terribly in the English-language scene but totally came alive in the elimination's Spanish-language clip.

Somewhere in all of this is the terrifying Walter Mercado - apparently some kind of Latin celebrity astrologist, and also a dead ringer for Ellen Burstyn circa "Requiem for a Dream" - who I guess will act as a spiritual advisor to the contestants. Astrology is apparently very big in Latin America.

The beefcake factor on this show is off the charts, with Ponce backed up by the diminutive (and sadly totally untalented) Alexcy, the deservedly pompous Vinci, and bald and beautiful Berto, possibly the hottest thing to ever roam the planet. (An upcoming nude scene features a sombrero digitally added to cover li'l Berto. Ay caramba!) Sadly, the lades aren't as smoking, with the notable exception of stunning Gisel, and Roseny, who's pretty in a kind of 80's hair/"Dynasty" way.

"The Office" returned last night after six looooong months off the air due to the writers' strike. Maybe my expectations were too high, but honestly, I didn't love it. There were very funny moments (courtesy mostly of Angela and Dwight, even better now as exes than they were as were as undercover lovers), but the show seems to have lost its focus and tone.

To be fair, that's been a problem for the show all season. Nearly half of the Season 4 episodes have taken place outside of the actual office, between the trip to the Utica branch, the episode about Michael's after-hours telemarketing scheme, the "fun run" to cure Meredith of rabies, and Michael's ill-conceived trek to the woods to find himself. This week almost the entire episode took place in Michael and Jan's condo, a.k.a. the Fifth Circle of Domestic Hell.

It's not a bad idea for an episode, but it's not really "The Office." And after six months off, that's what I was looking forward to. And if you start to think too much about how the conceit of the show is a documentary film crew following the employees at a failing, mid-level paper company, and then you try to justify why they're taping them at a totally non-work-related dinner party (even interviewing the subjects in the bathroom), your head will explode.

My bigger issue, however, is the broadening of the comedy and the lack of connection with the characters. "The Office" perfected a lackadaisical, wry approach to observational comedy, but it also had a heart. Last night there was very little that was wry, a whole lot that was over-the-top, and the rest of it was just kind of terrifying.

Specifically, Jan was terrifying. That was obviously the joke: all you needed was one look at the hooker red lipstick smeared across her clownish smile to tell that the writers have decided to send Jan Levinson off the edge. And that really sucks. Jan was a fantastic character; she started out as a strong, smart, competent manager trying desperately to corral her perversely incompetent charge (Michael). The show did a fairly decent job explaining her initial attraction to Michael (a self-destruction streak a mile wide), and from there it was a short, hilarious trip to cohabitation. But up until the last original episode - which featured Michael's deposition in Jan's sexual harassment suit against the company - she still largely had her shit together, despite being broke, unemployed and, you know, living with Michael.

But last night, we saw the full, terrifying face of Jan unhinged, and I for one was not amused. Jan went from character to caricature in one episode. She is now an insanely jealous (she really, truly believes that Pam has a thing for Michael), socially calloused (holding a dinner party in which dinner is served after 10 p.m.), hysterics-prone (she threw a Dundee at Michael's $200, 8" wall-mounted plasma television!), candle-making crazy woman. And I don't like it one bit.

I'm not saying that it's inexplicable. She lives with Michael, and chooses to do so, which would drive anyone insane. But it just seems like such a cheap way to go with that character, and I truthfully expect so much more from this show.

Lastly, I don't think the episode featured more than brief flashes of the rest of the office-mates - Phyllis, Stanley, Creed, Oscar, Kevin, Toby, or Kelly - and those guys are a big part of what makes this show tick. The supporting cast is one place where the American "Office" totally excels above the original British show; I cannot figure out why the producers and writers would ignore them so heavily this season. But so long as we keep taking these stupid non-office trips every episode, that's precisely what's going to happen.

And no scenes from next week? Oh, SHOW!

So I've done it: I've officially given up on "American Idol" this season. This is the first time in four years that I haven't watched the show religiously; I even suffered through the horrors of Taylor Hicks and Sanjaya, but I cannot get through this season. It's been two weeks now and I haven't watched a single second of the show. That's at least two hours per week I have back. I can read, write, whatever. It feels good. I feel...clean.

But I'll admit, this week was a test to my "Idol" sobriety. Dolly Parton - DOLLY PARTON! - was the guest mentor. She is like a god to me; an honest-to-gosh American treasure. And I'm sure she was amazing (how could she not be?). But ultimately not even Dolly could cause me to relapse.

I should be clear: I didn't give up on Season 7 because of the singing. I actually think this is the most vocally talented group they've had in a couple years, certainly better than last season, when chuds like Phil Stacey and Chris Richardson made it to the Top 6, and the utterly useless Blake Lewis made the finals. (Are you embarrassed by that yet, America? You really should be.)

No, I've given up because I realize that I just don't like fully two-thirds of the remaining contestants. They might be decent singers, but I don't think they're very good people. Or, at least, not particularly interesting.

I keep forgetting Jason Castro exists. In fact, I initially typed his name "Danny Castro." That's how little he stands out to me. I finally got past the dreds (they're still gross, but whatever), and I can see why preteen girls would find him cute. But this guy has no personality. The word I'd use to describe him is "dippy." That's not someone I can root for. Plus, he has that whole MTV reality show past that he never acknowledges, and I just don't believe a word that comes out of his mouth.

At first I was a fan of wee Ramiele Malubay, impressed by her big notes during Hollywood Week. Since then she hasn't once lived up to her promise, and often dresses like some deranged munchkin. Actually, that part I like. What I don't like is her constant doe-eyed, co-dependent shtick. She's so utterly pointless. Who is voting for Ramiele?

Kristy Lee Cook must keep getting the Cute Country Girl vote, because she's somehow still in this thing. She actually grew on me a little during her brutalizing of the Beatles catalogue (BTW, I think the repeating of that theme was what finally drove me away), not because of her terrible singing, but because she showed a little spunk during judging. Still, this girl is not a star. She will never be a star. She will never even be star-adjacent, like my beloved Kellie Pickler.

Syesha Mercado is a very pretty girl, and also possibly the most over-rated contestant in "Idol" history. I keep hearing people referring to her as the best voice of the season, and my reaction is: you have got to be kidding me. I can't count the number of contestants from previous seasons who have done her shtick so much better. Tamyra Gray? LaToya London? Vonzell Solomon? Nadia Turner? Melinda Doolittle? All of them belted out the R&B diva classics with actual skill and presence. Syesha just wades through the verse until she can belt out the chorus. Snore. I also find her to be dour and totally stuck on herself. She is totally that girl in the Drama Club who's sure she's going to be a star. I can't stand her.

David Cook is consistently praised for his originality, when in fact he's the most predictable contestant of the season. You know that every song will have some ironic value; you know that it'll start out slowly with him plaintively growling into the mic; you know that he'll strum poorly on his guitar; and then he'll break into a howl on the chorus, driving it home. Every time. He's also a self-important douche, the very definition of smarmy. Yuck.

Michael Johns is not half as talented, cute, or interesting as he thinks he is. I can barely even find the interest to finish typing this sentence. That's how little I care about him.

That leaves the only three contestants I remotely care about, Brooke White, Carly Smithson, and David Archuleta. I think they're all talented in very different ways, and I can see any one of them getting a recording contract when it's all over. (Carly already had one, whatever.) That said, I could only really see myself picking up the phone to vote for even one of them (David), and if that's the case - if at NINE CONTESTANT LEFT I only care enough to maybe vote for one of them - I just cant' justify watching this show anymore.

I leave open the possibility of checking in once we're down to the Final 4, especially if my three faves are still in it. (Doubtful; Carly is living on borrowed time.) But as of now, I'm done.

This week I successfully avoided watching a single second of "American Idol." I've given it up (post to come later today), but I don't think I could ever give up my beloved models. Especially not if they remain as awesome as they are this season.

Thank god for Claire, Whitney, Lauren, Fatima, Katarzyna, Anya, and Dominique. The first four are gorgeous and bitchy; the next two are just plain gorgeous; the last one is just plain bitchy. It's an amazing cocktail. (Stacy-Ann is just...there.) The show hasn't been this much fun since Cycle 6, even if the girls have become increasingly less modelesque.

The photo shoot this week had the girls posing as music genre stereotypes. So Fatima got to portray metal rock, Katarzyna excelled at being emo girl, Whitney channeled Courtney Love for grunge, and so on. Edgy Claire struggled to embrace her inner bumpkin in a campy country shot, and Aimee got the boot for being the most boring R&B diva ever.

The shoot was good (and presided over by big-shot photographer Russell James, most recently of VH1's "The Shot" - which, coincidentally, is also produced by the "Top Model" people. Don't think you're so tricky, Banks!). Tyra's posing teach was insanely brilliant ("When you're stuck, think pain! But also beauty!" This woman gives us such gifts...) But the best part of the episode was the girls repeatedly dog-piling on Dominique.

It's all so high school; Dominique is completely self-absorbed (I mean, the woman refers to herself in the third person. What do you expect?) and, after last episode's blow-up over the phone list, this week we got the story of Dom's alarm clock. Which apparently goes off at all hours of the morning. Repeatedly. And which she refuses to fix. At first this gets Claire (Claire!) in a tizzy, and she precedes to cuss out Dominique, calling her a "shady bitch" (Ha!). Things escalate, and Whitney (of course) and Lauren (gaining huge amounts of respect from me) get into it, climaxing with Lauren literally climbing on top of a chair and screaming at Dominique "You are f**king CRAZY!" Amazing. Just amazing. Later in the episode the feud erupts again. The cattiness! This is what I've been telling them to do!

I won't really miss Aimee. Pretty girl, totally unmemorable. The other interesting tidbit this episode is that the panel loves the short-cut ‘do Katarzyna wore in her emo pic, and Tyra informs her that she'll be getting that haircut for reals next week. Kat seems less than pleased, but she should buck up: this might be the totally useless thing that makes Tyra go from clearly hating her (as the seasons have drawn on, Tyra's ability to fake enthusiasm has dried up; thus far she has given Kat nothing but that hooded-eye "Girl, screw up once and you're out of here" stare) to suddenly thinking she's the best thing EVER. Let's hope so! I love that dimpled Polish goddess.

"Avenue Q"

Through March 9

Rochester Broadway Theatre League

Auditorium Theatre, 885 E Main St

232-1900 | $30-$55 | rbtl.org

So: awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome. There is literally nothing bad I can write about Rochester Broadway Theatre League's touring production of "Avenue Q." No sound problems. No weak actors. No crappy sets. Nothing. The play is great, the singing was great, the production was slick - it's a critic's worst nightmare.

"Avenue Q" was the surprise winner for the 2004 Tony Award for Best Musical. In fact, co-writer Robert Lopez writes in his program bio that he's "still reeling" from taking home the Best Score trophy. (It also won for best book, direction, and lead male and female actors, plus a host of Drama Desk awards.) So the show has quite a pedigree, although I suspect it could kind of care less. It's the quintessential Gen X/Y musical, totally post-post-modern, snarky to within an inch of its life, and steeped in 80's nostalgia to boot. And it's also a hell of a lot of fun.

"Avenue Q" is basically a jacked-up version of "Sesame Street." It's a place where humans live side-by-side with puppets and monsters, and nobody blinks an eye. The action begins when puppet Princeton comes to the street to find an apartment. He's a new college grad with an English degree, and thus no real skill set or career plans. He quickly meets the rest of the cast, which includes sweet, lonely Kate Monster; bickering unemployed couple Brian and Christmas Eve; goofy puppet Nicky and his closeted gay Republican roommate, Rod; building superintendent Gary Coleman (yes, that Gary Coleman, although here deliberately played by a woman); and uncouth, porn-loving upstairs neighbor Trekkie Monster.

The cast regularly breaks into song to relay their various 20/30something struggles, including money woes, relationship problems, racism, noise levels during sex, and laughing at the misfortune of others (in the show-stopping "Schadenfreude," my personal anthem since I first heard it years ago). To further the Sesame Street-like feel, throughout the production big-screen TVs descend from the ceiling to deliver colorful life lessons in childlike script, although with an adult twist (the "commitment" and "five nightstands" clips are among the cleverest bits in the show).

The performers are all fantastic, with the standout being Kelli Sawyer as the voices of Kate Monster and the aptly named Lucy the Slut. Sawyer's voice is clear and big and beautiful, and she's a joy to listen to. Lead actor Robert McClure gives just as good in the challenging roles of Princeton and Rod; it's a little terrifying to think that one person switches between such radically different voices in mere seconds, but that's the nature of the show.

It is a little odd, at first, to realize that when the puppets are onstage, you're supposed to focus on the furry characters' actions and not the black-clad humans walking them around, giving them their its voice. But by the second or third song, the weirdness passes, and by the time the vigorous puppet sex scene rolls around, you really can't look at anything besides their flapping, fuzzy bodies.

Seriously, there are no negatives here. I wondered whether intermission would see a mass exodus by some of the more prudish members of the audience (see: vigorous puppet sex scene). But it seemed like almost everybody stuck around and had a great time. Don't miss this one during its limited run.

After a couple rough numbers in the beginning, things got pretty good. We're almost certainly going to have six very strong male singers in the Top 12, and I don't think that has ever happened on this show. There's almost always a joke contestant or two that get through. It was 70s night, which makes me wonder if we'll conclude this hellish triptych with 80s night next week. By burning off these three themes, what will they do for the rest of the season? Polka night? Novelty song night? An evening with Pat Boone? The mind reels.

Also, the judges were way, way off last night. Even Simon for most of the night. I don't know what happened, but praising Luke and thrashing the Jasons? Was it Bizarro Idol and I missed the memo?

Michael Johns "Go Your Own Way" He said it was a dream for him to sing a Fleetwood Mac song. I wonder if that dream included him butchering it. He was SO KARAOKE! God. And way off pitch, too. Shrieky. Just terrible. I'm pretty sure he dropped some lyrics in the middle. Why pick a song that's out of your range in the chorus? Interestingly, while he sounded like Jim Morrison last week, this week it was straight-up Eddie Vedder. His on-stage performance was like something out of a Blind Melon video. Of course, the judges love him. I wait with baited breath for the day that they finally, inevitably turn on him.

Jason Castro "I Just Want to be Your Everything" So, OK -- I actually liked this performance. Jason made the song sound more intimate than it ever was; it was downright sweet. However, his voice is still too trembly and weak for me. And his whole pre-song interview about how he just wants to make music, man, and totally doesn't like all these interviews and photos and non-music stuff... Again: was on an MTV reality series. Pull the other leg. It plays "Yellow Rose of Texas."

Luke Menard "Killer Queen" GOD, HE'S SO TERRIBLE! The song didn't suit his voice at all; he sounded like Dame Edna. He had no stage presence. And he got all mumbly again. I literally couldn't understand a single word in the middle of the verse. And then he danced! Horrors. All of it. The judges loved him, except Simon. But even he didn't lash into him. How did nobody destroy him? I...don't understand. Seacrest made some comment about him looking like Dawson, and Luke does kind of look like a mix between Mr. Leary and his gay friend, Jack. If Luke plays his cards right Ryan Seacrest's 1995 masturbatory fantasies may finally come true....

Robbie Carico "Hot Blooded" Yikes. So I take it back: put the bandana back on, Robbie. Was that a wig he was wearing? Perhaps something from the Bret Michaels/Goldie Hawn collection? I think that was a wig. Robbie, darling, the more you argue about how authentically "rawk" you are, the less I believe you. Not that it matters. This was the most bland, half-assed performance I've seen on stage this season, and I watched every one of those awful girls last week. It was really terrible karaoke, with beyond-cheesy stage moves. The wallet chain! The leather cuff! He's like a walking Hot Topic catalogue. He phoned that sucker in.

Danny Noriega "Superstar" First the critique: He was flat in parts. He did the prissiest on-stage moves imaginable. But! He really does have a nice voice. Like most gay men, Danny believes he is a strong black woman, and I don't begrudge him for it. It wasn't really memorable, but to me at least, it was the only performance at that point of the evening I could see as part of the Top 12. When Simon told him he looks good on camera, Danny squealed "Thank you!" I love Danny Noriega.

David Hernandez "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" This...was such a weird song choice for him. I mean, he rocked it. When he got to the chorus it sounded amazing. But the verse just didn't show off his vocals, and it's not a terribly melodic song. But the judges all loved it. I really like him, and I wish he'd get his shit together in the song choice department.

Jason Yeager "Long Train Runnin'" I realized last night that Jason looks a little like Jim Halpert from "The Office" (OK, more like his chunky, shorter brother), and is super cute when he smiles. This is where the judges and I had the biggest difference of opinion. They savaged him for this song, saying that it wasn't a "singer" song and it didn't show off his range. I'm listening to it right now on my iPod - this song has range. Plenty of it. He was a funky little white boy, bopping around and having a good time. Total 180 from last week's somber affair. I'll give the judges that he remains very cruise ship still, and ending was, to quote Simon, "ghastly." But I really liked it! I think he's got a good voice, plus I have a soft spot for the Doobies. Randy called it pitchy. More pitchy than Michael? Get real. The judges clearly hate him.

Chikezie He sang song by Donny Hathaway. Donny Hathaway is one of those singers that every musician namedrops, but honestly, I doubt the average American can name a single one of his songs. I know I can't. That's not to impugn his legacy, but to me every time someone breaks out Hathaway on this show it seems like a desperate bid for cool points. Anyway, Chikezie sang the song really well. And he didn't wear that shiteous pimp suit. But his performance was as cheesy as it always is, with him pointing into the crowd, throwing his name in there, and all sorts of really cringe-worthy moments. How was that performance any better/different than Jason's? Answer: it was not. He takes absolutely no responsibility for how bad he was last week, and still blames it all on Simon, and then takes another potshot at Simon's wardrobe. Still dead to me.

David Cook "Alright Now" Looked a million times better from last week. I think some of the hair has been removed. He broke out the ax, and it kind of drowned him out for a bit. But ultimately he was good. Growly and screamy, but I guess that's how you modernize that song. It was still kind of boring, tho. I don' think he's quite connected yet. I'm eager to see what happens when he does.

David Archuleta "Imagine" Oh, I'm so sick of this song. I'd be happy if nobody ever covered it in the history of music again, and I bet the ghost of John Lennon would be to. However! David did a very good job with it, with a very interesting arrangement. His voice is soulful and rich, and way, way beyond his years. And I didn't even hate all the embellishments he gave it. It's a much different side of him than we saw last week. Smart move! The kid has got it. In. The bag. Whe he finished Archuletamania busted out in the studio! Before season's end he will be ripped to shreds by the acrylic-nailed, over-tanned teeny girls in the audience. I hope he has a 24/7 security detail.

BEST OF THE NIGHT: The Davids (Archuleta, Hernandez, Cook), and I'm sticking to my guns: Jason

WORST OF TE NIGHT: Luke, Robbie

IN TROUBLE: Luke, Jason

Man, that was rough. I knew going into semifinals that the guys were stronger than the girls this year - something that almost never happens, so I have to wonder if it isn't deliberate on the part of the producers. But I wasn't expecting the shiteous evening of "singing" we were subjected to last night. I enjoyed two, maybe three of the performances altogether. Out of 12. Contestant after contestant trotted out the "I'm sick" excuse, but that holds no water with me. This is your chance to impress America, girls, and most of you blew it.

Kristy Lee Cook, "Rescue Me" Rescue you from what, Kristy Lee? Mediocrity? That isn't going to happen. Generically pretty girl singing generically pretty in a karaoke style. Nothing more. She didn't connect with the song at all. There was no urgency. She might as well have been reading off a Chinese take-out menu. Better stick to "Amazing Grace," you hack.

Joanne Borgella, "I Say a Little Prayer" Joanne is a gorgeous girl, but not a singer. Pitch problems throughout, the song was too low for her, and again, no connection with the song at all. She got better with the power notes toward the end, much like Chikezie the night before. In fact, I'm not 100 percent convinced that they aren't the same person, just taking on and off a voluminous wig.

Alaina Whitaker, "More Today Than Yesterday" OK, I'm going to be shallow for a second. Alaina - who I don't think we'd ever seen before last night - is gorgeous when the microphone is up to her face; she bears a striking resemblance to Carrie Underwood, in fact. But when she lowers that mic, POW! Orthodontia nightmare. My viewing party called her "Carrie Underbite" and "Carrie Uglywood." HOWEVER! She rocked the hell out of the song after a slow start. Easily one of the best of the night. We love you, Alaina! Please consult a dentist immediately!

Amanda Overmeyer, "[Insert name of song here]" I honestly wish I could tell you what Amanda sang last night. I wish I knew. I'm not sure it was a song. I can tell you things it included: bad scatting, some growling, a few screams, Amanda yelling "baby please don't go" over and over and over and over again, and Amanda looking hot as shit. I really want to like Amanda and her whiskey-soaked vocals. But if she keeps pulling BS like that - whatever THAT was - we are going to have to break up. Know your audience, Amanda. Pick songs your audience can at least recognize. Do not repeat Nadia Turner's mistakes.

Amy Davis, "Where the Boys Are" Somebody has to go first each year. And this year, it will be Amy. I don't know Amy. I don't think I saw her before last night. But I knew everything I needed to know when she slid into the first hellacious note of this song. Terrible. Amy should have known she was screwed when Paula started in with the "you're so pretty" stuff. Thanks for playing, sweetie.

Brooke White, "Happy Together" Brooke sounded great on the verses of this song, putting her quavering, soulful voice to good use. Then she hit the chorus and I don't think she knew what the hell she was doing. She tried, though. I like Brooke. I hope she's safe. I'd like to see what she can do when not forced into some bullshit genre she has no business singing. Damned show!

Alexandrea Laughton, "Spinning Wheel" Best of the night, even though Simon vehemently disagreed with me. I thought it was fun, brassy, and well sung. Totally into this girl. Just have to remember who she is.

Kady Molloy, "Groovy Kind of Love" Apparently Kady does dead-on vocal impressions or something. I don't really care. But it is odd that such a deep, husky voice comes out of such a tiny, blonde little thing. I actually didn't mind this performance - it was boring, but it's a fairly boring song (my high school chorus used to use for vocal warm-ups, OK?). But she definitely could use some loosening up, which the judges tell her.

As'iah Epperson, "Piece of My Heart" OK. Here's the thing: much as I can't look past Danny Castro's hair to his actual performance, I can't get past my fundamental distrust of As'iah Epperson to even consider liking anything she does. As'iah, you might remember, is the girl whose dad died in a car wreck while she was on her way to audition for "Idol." And who sat there, totally unphazed, during the process. Smiling, giggling, laughing, performing, no signs of grief at all. I'm not going to tell anyone the proper way to mourn, but I AM going to say that I find it hard to believe that a young woman would show absolutely no signs of emotional distress mere days after her father's untimely death. I don't know if she's lying - I imagine that would have come out by now - but something is not right with As'iah. And so I just can't deal with her at all. She freaks me out. She sings OK, I guess. Simon loves her. I'm steeling myself for weeks of her skin-crawling presence.

Ramiele Malubay, "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me" I really liked Ramiele in her previous performances, a little woman blessed with a big ol' voice. She let me down here. It was a terrible arrangement of a fantastic song, and even when she got to the power notes, there wasn't much power. A total washout for me. But she should be fine.

Syesha Mercado, "Tobacco Road" Syesha annoyed me in Hollywood when she played the sick card. She annoyed me last night by singing this terrible song that someone sang a couple years ago, and which I hated then, and hate even more now. One of the judges called her the most powerful singer in the bunch, and I beg to differ. She screams, alright, but that's not necessarily power. This girl seems beyond ordinary to me.

Carly Smithson, "The Shadow of Your Smile" The Controversy Queen (for the record: I do not care that she had a record on a major label several years ago) put her amazing pipes to poor use with this dreadfully boring song. She did some interesting vocal stuff, but really, it's a shitty song. But she should be fine so long as this backlash doesn't capsize her.

Best of the night: Alaina, Alexandrea

Worst of the night: Amy, Kristy Lee, Joanne

In trouble: Amy, maybe Joanne