First, Dear Producers: About them singing the Michael Jackson catalogue—once David Cook did his jaw-dropping rendition of Billie Jean, the MJ songs should have been taken off the table. The bar, he set that sucker so high it whacked the ISS.

Dear Lil Rounds: The Way You Make Me Feel—You’ve been one of my top three since your audition, but I wasn’t wowed. Unfortunately, that could possibly be attributed just a little bit to my absolute, total loathing of the song. You looked hot as hell, though. (And there’s a little soft spot in my heart for moms trying to live a dream.)

Dear Scott MacIntyre: Keep the Faith—I’m sorry, but I got bored and went and got caught up on Twitterfon while I waited for the camera to return to Simon.

Dear Danny Gokey: P.Y.T.—OMG, who were all those people in the video clip? Not siblings I hope, for your mother’s sake. Anyway, back to the song. The opening frightened me with its overwhelming cheesiness, but you rocked the meaty part of the song. (And I hate P.Y.T.. Hell, I’ll just confess right now—I can’t think of a Michael Jackson song other than Thriller that doesn’t make me change the station.)

Dear Michael Sarver: (Before you start singing, just want you to know you’ve been my number one favorite since your audition.) You Are Not Alone—You make me all melty inside. A dayum hot, blue collar working man with a voice like that? Just like with Lil Rounds, I’m a total sucker for a working parent who’s all but given up. I hope you make it, dude.

Dear Jasmine Murray: I’ll Be There—(This song makes me gag. When’s Disturbed night? Or at least Nickelback night?) Honey, you’re just one of the pack of young, cute girls with good enough voices. I think you…oh sorry, I already forgot you.

Dear Kris Allen: Remember the Time—I actually liked that enough to momentarily forget how much I dislike the song. You have great energy and I wanted to get up on the stage and dance, even those couple of times you got so pitchy my dog twitched in her sleep. Just as my husband said “I’d vote for him to go home”, I said “He might be my favorite of the night so far”.

Dear Allison Iraheta: Give In To Me—I like you, I think, but your voice is just a tad bit low for me. My husband liked you, though. (Umm…he liked your performace, not you. You’re only sixteen.) And maybe I’m just getting old, but I don’t like your hair, honey. I bet your natural color was gorgeous.

Dear Anoop DAWG: As long as you don’t sing My Perogative AGAIN, we should be okay. And, OMG, it just occured to me you might try to sing Beat It. Please don’t. And the song is…Beat It—I am laughing and laughing and laughing at you. I’m sorry. You’re actually not a bad singer and it’s not horrible outside of the pitchy notes, but you’re showing your geekiness. And if you want votes, you need to connect with the ladies, dude. You’re hot enough, you just need to let loose the smoldering.

Dear Jorge Nunez: Never Can Say Goodbye—Is Michael Jackson night over yet? If I ever win the Powerball and buy a cruise ship, I’m totally hiring you to sing at the AYCE cheese buffet.

Dear Megan Joy Corkrey: Rockin’ Robin—I like your voice, but could you not do that half-ass twist-wanna-be move that makes me suspect you lost your Preparation H? You need to get a little more comfortable moving on stage because your “dancing” was awkward and being self-conscious about it hurt you vocally by splitting your focus.

OMG, Chef Ramsay’s in the audience! I want to know what he said! I want to…never mind what I want to do to him. Okay, what show was I watching?

Dear Adam Lambert: Black or White—Perhaps it’s the afterglow from my brief mental interlude with Ramsay, but that was as sizzling as the Chef’s temper, babe. DAYUM. And I think the only one left is the little blonde I like. They’re totally settting you two up to be fresh in the minds of the voting public.

Oh wait, I forgot about this guy:

Dear Matt Giraud: Human Nature—You got all your own smolder and Anoop’s, too. Hell, I don’t even know if you can sing because I keep getting all distracted by your sexy and forgetting to pay attention. Can you come sing to me at my next birthday party?

Dear Alexis Grace: Dirty Diana—I think you were about two lines in before I forgot I was a happily married heterosexual woman. Woman, you are rockin’ awesome like smokin’ hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

My top three of the night:

1. Adam Lambert
2. Alexis Grace (the judges were smoking crack during the last commercial, I think.)
3. Matt Giraud

What did you guys think?