Well, until we got to Chris of the Dreadlocks anyway. Or maybe that cheesesteak.

Me, I tuned in at Angela with the kickass extended family and the little girl who went to bed one way and woke up tragically another. I have no idea what she sang, because I promptly burst into tears, snorfled all the way through her performance and then kicked ‘er up another notch when her kickass extended family took Ryan down to the floor in celebration. The commercial afterward made me cry too, but I can’t remember why. I went and fetched some beer and chocolate, and things went much smoother after that, no matter how hard the A.I. producers tried to not let that happen.

As for the blonde girls who all made ‘er through to Hollywood, I predict they promptly get trio’d up in the Hollywood round, where Brooke Pickler promptly finds her dark side long about 3am, Kristy Lee Underwood lands a foot on her unsullied jaw line and … yeah … I don’t have anything good for what happens to Bewitched.

As for the “No Sex Allowed” guy, the Caulker-Stalker-Peter-Falker and the smirking cheeseturd in the cape, I get that there is a vast audience out there who lives for this crap. I’m over it. Dangerously over it. Not-sure-I-can-watch-the-first-month-of-A.I. over it. Were it not for Randy grabbing his groove hard and chiming in on the No-Sex chorus, and the vindication of seeing Cheeseturd have a million little follicles ripped from his body, they may have lost me on the first pitch.

Also, how does Temptress play middle linebacker? She looks more like a nose tackle.

* Was that Egyptian immigrant guy pulling a Borat? If I understood him correctly, he said he was going to sing a song from “Mr. The Bee Gees” (this was after he was able to word it correctly earlier), and he professed, “I want to love a girl …” (presumably searching for the words “from head to toe”) “… from the hair to the nipple.” I’m skeptical.

* I was also skeptical when the show promised “the strangest audition ever” before going to commercial, but it did deliver a pretty strange one with that Paul “Eddie Vedder” Robeson guy. If I ever get rid of my record player and long for the days when I could play my 45s at the 33 speed, I’ll look this guy up. I also love how he said he’ll try again next year with more contemporary songs. Yes — THAT was your problem. Moses was your downfall.

* When Temptress said that she has many animals, including 10 kittens, and Simon said “I like animals,” I halfway expected him to finish the thought with “for dinner.” Simon didn’t, and I realized that, at that moment, I was meaner than Simon Cowell.

* Alexis Cohen. I love the strange, strange things you say, yet I would be afraid to meet you (much less put my pets in your veterinary care, after seeing your profanity-laden, middle-finger-thrusting, self-butt-grabbing tirade). I not only liked your use of the verb “to actress,” but also that you apparently think that 12-headed people are looking at you (“I like the fact that people look at me with 12 heads”), and, my favorite, that you explain about your hometown, “There was a song written about Allentown — I believe the artist was Bon Jovi.” Bon Jovi, Billy Joel. As long as there’s a B and a J, it’s all good. (We would’ve also accepted M*A*S*H’s Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt as an answer.)

* About the 39-year-old social worker’s song to the youth of America: Ohhhh … “No Sex ALLOWED.” That makes a lot more sense than the “No Sex Aloud” message I thought he was promoting. Thanks, WindUpDoll!

* The only two people I’m really interested in seeing again are Kristy Lee Cook (the horse-owning, country-tinged kick-boxer. I hope she stays sweet), and Brooke White (not so much for her voice, which is pleasant enough, but because I’m hoping she can stay true to herself and resist the lures of the dark side).