
"Ahora, lovers, I am being symbolic. If you are going to FORCE me at MILLION-point to stand next to Grandmageddon every day, then I am going to wear this dress that looks like I got held hostage at a tire shop."

"But then this tiny person came out. Lovers, what is Tommy Hilfiger doing with my show? Is he coaching them to have style, or is he coaching them to look like baby Bjorks? I cannot watch a child sing if I am afraid an egg is going to shoot out onto Aeroskeletor--- HA HA HA wait, si, yes I can."

"Do we pay Mr. Tommy actual DINERO for this? I am sitting here risking my LIFE next to this person YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN for like TEENSY amounts of millions that would only pay for me to have clothes for a month -- A MONTH, LOVERS -- and he gets to make these people look like Lady Gaga's shower curtain?"

"Why is that THERE, lovers? What is it DOING? Does it breathe? Does it eat blood? Does it buy my albums? Then LOCK IT DOWN, chica! My last husband did not even do all of those, HAHAHA, no but seriously, lovers, her hip looks like the time Marc ate through a gift bag to get to a jar of B-negative."

"Ay, lovers, we are so bored of each other already. Can you tell? Sitting with these people is like looking at photos of Ughfleck's lippy uterus. I have to squeeze myself ad cut off circulation until my veins bulge, just to feel alive. Marc used to call this 'foreplay.'"

"And then this person comes out, in her tiny leather, and everyone is all excited. Why? Because she came in SEVENTH on the old version of this show (I would NEVER have let that happen, lovers -- fifth or BUST for her!), and then she won some dumb trophy for some dumb singing movie and I don't think anyone even remembers the name of that dumb trophy."

"I KNOW I DO NOT, LOVERS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THINGY IT WAS BUT IF I DO NOT HAVE ONE THEN IT MUST NOT BE VERY IMPORTANTE, OKAY? YES."

"But, por favor, lovers, tell me: Why do people always come on my show trying to be Prince? Do they think I will love them more if they dress like short skinny people? That is it, isn't it? Oh, lovers, have you not seen my enormous new boyfriend? The way to my heart is to be LARGE and BALD, like Mr. Clean, but dirty, SO DIRTY, LOVERS."

"And then you voted out this tiny person here, and on camera we were all NO and WHYYYYY and AYYYYY and AMERICA BOOOOO and ALL THESE OTHER LAME LOSERS ARE SO DUMB AND THIS GIRL IS THE ANGEL OF TALENT AND JUSTICE JUST GOT TAKEN OUT BACK AND NUT-PUNCHED but lovers, I do not even care. Because I had a plan. Did I stay at my chair and coo "We will use our save on you" from my microphone? NO. I stormed the stage and RIPPED the microphone from her hand and CHARGED around the stage and then hugged her and then talked again and I know now why they call it hijacking, lovers, because I felt JACKED and HIGH. THAT is how you feel alive. Know how else? Buying my single. Besos! And feel free to vote out someone else good next time. We cannot save them again but I think I will now rehearse some 'spontaneous' rage gymnastics just in case."
