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God is drunk. Or he’s just fucking with you.

2 Feb

God is drunk.  Or he's just fucking with you.

This is American Idol 2013 hopeful, Anastacia Freeman. Anastacia has what we in the business call ‘pipes’ – and by ‘business’ I mean plumbing and by ‘pipes’ I mean the kind of crap-choked ones that Andy Dufresne vomited his way through to escape prison in The Shawshank Redemption.

The song Anastacia chose to hang, draw, quarter and scatter to the four corners of hell was Toni Braxton’s Unbreak My Heart. Now, if Toni had a grave she’d be spinning in it like a chunk of lobster at a Thermomix demo. Unfortunately for Ms Braxton she’s very much alive and destined to be shown the clip of this hideous spectacle by one of her friends who will no doubt describe it as ‘hilarious’ in the same lying fashion she probably reserves for telling Toni her ass doesn’t look fat in those pants.

Clad in the frock she probably wears to stalk the local priest at Saturday Night church fundraisers, Anastacia launched an impressive assault on music, pausing only briefly to make sure the judges weren’t laughing at her. A fact they were quick to deny.

Probably because at this point it was evident that Anastacia was about as sane as a Deliverance hillbilly.

Despite laying down vocals that would be far more at home being farted out of vaginas on a labour ward, Anastacia is convinced her appearance on Idol is a divine calling. Specifically: God spoke to her while she was writing in her journal and told her to pack up her dignity, squeeze her hooves into some hooker shoes and take her crazy on national television.

Trusting psycho that she is, Anastacia completely missed the big NOT at the end of God’s sentence and whipped her special brand of fuckery to Oklahoma City where she got four very polite ‘nos’ from a panel of judges probably all with their fingers on the concealed panic button.

To her credit, Anastacia took it well: no, she won’t be listening to Mariah Carey albums ever again. Yes, Nicky Minaj is just a nasty ole devil worshipper. No, she has no idea who Randy Jackson is (ok, that was just me). She also did the predictable if-those-nasty-people-stay-I-won’t-be-back.

Oh Anastacia, if only we could believe you.

If you’re an abject masochist and you’d like to know what it’s like to have molten lava poured into your ears while being turkey-slapped by an unwashed dick, click here:

Flawless xo

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