So. My bracket is destroyed. Utterly. I picked a couple longshots as upsets, but unfortunately Bradley wasn't one of them. And I also didn't plan on Syracuse getting beat in the first round, despite everyone warning me of the 5-12 curse. Anyhow.
I am a gambler. So I have a new horse that I'm riding to victory. The race, my dears, is American Idol. Oh yes. Even I.
My pick is the longshot:
Sure he's not as pretty as the dumb blonde. But the dumb blonde isn't as pretty as sexually ambiguous blushing falsetto. My pick doesn't spaz out and perform cunnilingus on harmonicas, and he doesn't Creedify every poor song. My pick, he can sing. Sure, sure, some may say he's a train-wreck to look at. Oh, but I disagree. My pick isn't kewpie-cute, but he's not ugly. He's fugly. And I do mean that in the sexiest, fugliest way possible. Hell, I'd hit it!
He can't give me back round 2 of the NCAA. But please, Elliott, keep me in the Idol pool.