I’m a bit of an American Idol junkie. It started when J & I first started dating and watched the finale of the first season at his house. Yes, I cried when Kelly Clarkson sang “A Moment Like This.” Not just that night, but every time I heard it for the next week. And I thought it would be my wedding song, but that just didn’t fly with J. Something about being bad music and uber-cheesy. Whatever.
Anyway, since then, I just started watching for the bad auditions, and then got totally sucked in to the entire season. So much so that I organized a work pool last year, complete with a color coded spreadsheet (I know this will make Jane proud!) There was some controversy last year when I was the co-winner of the pool, so I am refusing to organize the pool this year and am withholding the spreadsheet from my ungrateful coworkers <hair flip>.
So, Idol is back, and, frankly, its the only thing on television until Lost comes back at the end of the month. If I watch another episode of John and Kate Plus Eight I may never have sex again. And, while The Biggest Loser can be inspiring, its counter-effective to watch it on my couch with my head in a bag of Cheetos.
The next few weeks of Idol will be full of bad performers whose families clearly don’t love them enough to tell them they suck. Seriously. Why doesn’t anyone stop these people? I’m not claiming I can sing, at all. Crap, I can barely play a guitar that has color coded buttons. Buy you don’t see me spewing Celine Dion on national television. J barely lets me get through a song in the shower without howling like a wounded puppy.
This week Idol showcased some of its finest idiots. Like the nineteen year old who hasn’t kissed a girl yet and is waiting for his wedding day. Uh, yeah, kid, that will happen. Or the woman with the massive amount of sparkles on her face who freaked out because Simon didn’t like the way she screamed sang. And the many people who had to be hauled off stage for refusing to get off, or threatening to break into Paula’s house. It was also full of the sob stories I’ve come to love when the singer is good, and make fun of when the singer is bad. There was a woman on last night who lost half her face and the sight in one eye in an accident. Which, while sad, promted the evil Julie in me to comment to J that the lack of vision at least explained how she picked out the outfit she chose to wear.
I think Fox will be overloaded with freaks next week, when their new show The Moment of Truth premieres. I can hardly wait. I feel so normal and sane by the time I go to bed at night, that I almost forget about writing down what the senior I had a crush on as a freshman wore every day. Almost.