This week, not so much.

No singer particularly stood out. The girl from Ireland? So-so. The single dad? Cute kid, but no wow factor. As far as the crazies go, they spent WAY too much time on the free-spirit-bald-eagle guy. He was a bit of a freak, I'll give him that. But too pathetic to really delight in. I like my crazies to either be lovable or completely hate-able. He was neither. The high spot, sadly, was when Simon's adoring fans came traipsing in with a paper airplane and a song. I think a little ménage à trois was in the air that afternoon. But at least she could sing.

San Diego was a huge disappointment. Perhaps people there are too busy enjoying the sun and the beach to waste time on a singing competition. Hopefully South Carolina will offer up some talent and a few laughs.

Meanwhile, here's a little drinking game to get you through the hard times. The rules go like this: Every time someone says "I'm the next American Idol" take a sip. If a woman manages to slip Simon or Randy's name into a song, take a healthy swig. And if a guy sings directly to Paula, drink TWICE - if she's hot for him, too, take a shot. You should be enjoying yourself in no time, regardless of the talent or lack thereof.