I generally don’t spend much time analyzing things that make me deliriously happy, but when I told y’all about my “American Idol” addiction, it got me to thinking. It’s TV for God sakes; the medium that gifted us with Charlie “Tiger Blood/Warlock” Sheen. It’s actually even worse than I let on. Not only have I missed just the one episode when I was hospitalized, I can’t watch them on DVR; they have to be live! This has lead to some odd moments over the years. I actually was impatiently bouncing in my seat for 45 minutes when The Teenage Morose One performed as one of The Lost Boys in “Peter Pan”, back when he was seven, and cuter than a bedbug. And not because my boy was performing; I was worried I’d miss 5 minutes of Idol! I have been caught skulking low like something out of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” in order to escape PTO meetings that were dragging on too long, in order to get my midweek fix. I have used the old migraine excuse at restaurants celebrating friends’ birthdays, in order to not miss a moment of my beloved show. How inconsiderate of birthdays and anniversaries to fall on a Wednesday or Thursday!
I am incensed when people refer to Idol as ‘a reality show’. No! No! No!“The Biggest Loser” is a reality show. It follows real people doing something real, losing weight and saving their own lives. Idol is a talent show, pure and simple. It is the American Dream, available for all comers; just bring a heaping helping of talent and COME ON DOWN. It is thrilling to watch these talented kids perform for the chance to completely transform their lives, rags to riches. Just think Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Kellie Pickler, Chris Daughtry, Jennifer Hudson, and Fantasia Barrino. The one whose performances I looked forward to the most was Adam Lambert. What a showman; you never knew what he’d get up to from week to week, but you knew it would be over-the-top outrageous. I also love how the winner isn’t always the winner. Hey Daughtry, are you having the last laugh now?? When did YOU last buy a Taylor Hicks CD?
My obsession makes no sense whatsoever considering that I am tone deaf, and that the world of musical notes, keys, and choruses is unfathomable. When I was in fifth grade, back in Nowhere, Texas, it was agreed by the school administration, that I must be removed from music class because my screeching and caterwauling were so disruptive to the rest of the class. They were rehearsing for an operetta to be performed at a charity function, and there was no way they were letting me get up on that stage. They were puzzled over what to do with me for the hour-long class period, but decided I could be an office assistant and help with stuffing envelopes and other exciting tasks.
My feelings were terribly wounded, as this was the first time I realized I couldn’t sing a lick. That music class had been as mysterious to me as trigonometry, so I guess it was just as well. Now I’m so self conscious I won’t even part my lips for a hymn in church. Despite it all, I love my “Idol” and it’s going to be unbelievably difficult to see them whittled down this season, because there are at least eight who could take the whole thing.
Almost as embarrassing as being ‘rejected” from my music class was the day in Milan I met Jack Scalia. It was the final day of my month-long bridal shoot, and they were using my hotel as a backdrop. They used several male models throughout this time, but this final day was to be with someone I didn’t know. It’s a pretty small, tight colony of models in Milan, so I suspect he had just arrived in Italy. When Jack showed up with that hair, that cleft in his chin, and those azure blue eyes, I thought I might pass out, but….wait! Remember the shoot I had done the year before with the very successful photographer and I’d decided it would be a fine idea to Afro my hair? Déjà vu all over again!! The hairdresser had just about run out of ideas to change up my look in the 20 days we’d worked together, so he decided that kinky, curly was just what the doctor ordered. See disastrous results below.
I had to look my absolute worst on the day Jack Scalia showed up, and who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor? He kept giving me strange looks like I had dog poo smeared in my hair. Thank God when we worked together a few years later, my hair was quite long and he didn’t recognize me. As the cherry on top of this day, Boy would be arriving tomorrow. Stay tuned!