I'm about to write something about American Idol. This is where I might say "don't judge me" but I know you already have. It's okay, I'm now at peace with my heartfelt devotion for reality TV.
Everyone and their mother has already posted something about this girl. But in case you didn't catch it, young Ferl had a 13 year old moment (or half hour) while her favorite idols attempted to rock out. She sobbed uncontrollably as some of the worst performances ever took place. And the producers of Idol ate it up. The first time they showed her I looked over at Alex we started laughing. The second time they caught her on camera I still had a grin on my face. The third time brought a little sympathy. By the tenth time I was irritated and welcoming back memories of how painful it was to be 13. I remembered being boggled by hormones and unable to fight the urge to purchase magazines, even if they were Japanese, just because there was an extra sassy photo of John Taylor in there. Like most emotionally unstable teenage girls, my obsessions were frenzied and almost painful. I don't regret that time in my life, I know the infatuations I experienced were part of growing up. I might even label them the threshold into some of my best dysfunctional relationships. I had many a moment like uber-Idol-fan Fern, luckily for me it was semi-private. I was able to sit in the dark, back row of the Orpheum clasping my hands together, wondering if Roland Orzabal would notice me. It was a personal experience as I stood on the arms of the stadium chair, tasting my own salty tears while wondering if Andrew Ridgeley would make a good husband. I feel awkward enough sharing some of my memories here, without the photos of my greasy hair and videos of my retainer induced speech impediment.
Will young Fern ever be able to live it down? She may not be embarrassed about it now, she's just stoked she got a squeeze from Sanjaya, but what about 10 years from now? Take heart, Fern, you're in good company. Luckily, because of things like this, it's very in vogue now to share your most embarrassing moments. Give it about 15 years and you could be the next Mortified Idol.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Now that I'm back at work I realize that I sometimes need a break from the exciting world of spreadsheets and invoices. Aside from the distraction provided by the construction which sounds like a giant dentist's drill on the other side of the wall and prohibits me from making phone calls, I have found this. I can't get enough of it.