[QUOTE=McNew]
(paraphrasing):
Simon: blah blah hate hate It was nasally and tinny and it sucked.
Chris: It’s a style of singing.
Simon: What?!?!
Chris: It’s a type of singing, in case you didn’t know.
(what I wanted to hear from) Simon: A type of singing? You’re actually attempting to educate me about types of singing? Oh, you pathetic little boy- I’ve been doing this since before you puking up your momma’s milk, you cut-rate boy band wannabee. It’s a miracle you’ve come this far. You know how to do one thing and one thing only, and it’s make doe eyes at the prepubescent little girls who wouldn’t know a talented singer if they tripped over one, but they’re the ones voting for you, God help us all. But making doe eyes at the voters isn’t a substitute for talent. Get offa my stage, you hack. Oh, and our hearts go out to the Virginia Tech students and families.
[/QUOTE]
[…Ryan Seacrest sidles up to Chris…]
Simon, why can’t you just shut up? Sometimes you act like you were hired to give opinions.
[…Ryan puts an arm around Chris…]
This young man deserves a bit more respect than that. Right, gang?
[…Ryan’s arm falls to Chris’s waist…]
Plus, he’s handsome. Just look at him. Those baby blue eyes. That Roman nose.
[…Ryan mauls Chris with a full-on hug…]
You should smell him. He smells like Irish Spring. And he feels so good. His muscles are so firm.
[…Ryan begins licking Chris’s neck, speaking in raspy whispers…]
He tastes like sex. His pheremones make me dizzy. I feel a rumbling in my groin. I love him, and I hate you.
[…Ryan and Chris lock lips as they claw at each other’s butt cheeks…]
Randy: Damn, dawg!
Paula: I think they make a wonderful couple!
Simon: Oh, please, Ryan. As if we all haven’t fucked Chris. […rolls eyes…]