May 27, 2008

The Curse is Lifted

There will be no judgment here. If you don’t like Idol, just move on. I love it and am not ashamed. Mostly. It’s true I cannot get those two hours of my life I spent voting last week back. But I multi task, so while I am incessantly redialing 1-866-IDOLS-O1 I am also doing important things like cutting pictures out of Tiger Beat and making friendship bracelets.

I have not always been an Idol watcher; I was an Idol late bloomer some might say. Better late than never I say! The past four years I have faced my share of Idol ups and downs for sure; cheering along my favorite singers; baulking at ridiculous comments from the judges; and of course fast forwarding anything coming out of Ryan’s mouth. I have always been an avid voter generally waiting until the top 12 before I cast my selective and sometimes lustful vote.

Sadly, my votes, while keeping my favorite Idol on the show for an additional week or two, have never been fruitful enough to produce an American Idol. Which hello, luscious Daughtry yes I will carry your love child, isn’t always a bad thing.

My first Idol year, I loved the spirited fraggle, John Peter Lewis (JPL). My friends and I had special Velcro Idol heads for each contestant that we moved into brackets each week after the show, selecting our bottom three picks for each week and of course our ultimate winner. Those were good times, even after my dear JPL was voted off. So long little man.



The following year Lady Holiday and I watched faithfully as the camera seducer Constantine took the stage. If there is anything I love more than a spirited fraggle, it’s pouty faced grungy rocker men.

Even better, a pouty faced grungy rocker who CAN sing AND has a butt chin! I am gonna tell ya right now, I love me a butt chin. Lady Holiday was so bitter after Constantine’s unjust departure that she subsequently swore off Idol. She's even stuck to it, determined and focused that gal. However, because I totally Benedict Arnolded our pact, I have had the pleasure to see his brooding face in the audience the past few years. I still love you Constantine. Call me.

One might think I couldn’t have more Idol joy than I found in Constantine. But you would be wrong, because the thing I love more than pouty faced grungy rocker is a bald man with tattoos, who can sing! I mean surely, I don’t need to remind you about the ever constant love for all things Vin. No doubt my Daughtry CD gets some serious playtime on the Ipod and we won’t even discuss the condition of the CD insert with it’s multiple and delicious shots of Daughtry, I mean this is a family friendly blog after all. True it was a serious travesty that Chris Daughtry was not the winner that season, but considering he matched four #1 single releases in a row, a record not beat since Mariah Carey in the 90s I am really not going to complain. I just may go play my CD and dance around with the insert again to celebrate the victory. I should also mention here that Chris is a good ol’ North Carolina Boy. Sigh.



Last year Idol visited fraggle rock again and I was totally endeared to Blake Lewis. I knew chances were slim that he would win, but I adored his personality, and the variety he brought to the performances. I still find myself putting his version of When The Stars Go Blue on repeat frequently. So precious I just wanted to put him in my pocket so I could pull him out to sing for me on demand. Dance monkey dance.

This year the stars were aligned, once again fans were screaming it was the BEST SEASON EVER. Indeed I enjoyed this season immensely, even if I was completely annoyed at the hour long results show and found myself fast forwarding more crap and singers and sometimes crappy singers than ever. But alas, I persisted through because of this delight.

It often takes me several weeks to settle on a favorite and decide which singer is going to be blessed to have my stalking and powerful votes. Not this year, I was a David Cook fan from the start. Some people were nay sayers, making horrific statements like “He sounds like Nickleback” which he so does not. Or “He has a huge head!” which he so does not-ish. But man can he sing. And play the guitar. And smile. And grow scruff. Ummm scruff.

Regardless, I am so pleased that the curse has finally been lifted and my Idol voice has been heard. Congrats to David Cook. I didn't know I could love him any more until I saw his performance on Ellen yesterday. Now I am just counting down the days until I can check out his CD insert and dance to his NOT NICKLEBACK SOUNDING CD!