Okay, I have three pages full of notes, (wsay long post alert) and I am as angst filled as I imagined I would be. I was SO cheerful when I started this exercise. Sheesh. Why DO I put myself through this agony? Cause I love the Clayton! And he is SO beyond this little piddly show. Just look at tonight for proof. They are backpedaling and backstroking, and blowing air up all kinds of *sses, but I ain’t buying it.
First, the friggin PINK dressing room? Gah. Nuff said. As Tony quoted on our DVD’s, decision made. Frick. When they went to Raleigh RBC? Could you have just pulled that aught whatever gauge rifle (I know, I’m from Arkansas, but not up on gun lingo) from the gun rack , and shot the freak? DRAMATIC ANNOUNCER VOICE?! STFU!!! Um, bring me a barf bag.
Then, the group number, um, HELLO!!! Shades of things to come. HELLO, here is your Idol, you nimnuts. Announcing which freaking states who won?! I couldn’t care less! I’ll mail you the chads I stole from Florida, I swear, if you will STFU!!
Then, the 3 finalists number, he looked so vulnerable during OTWOL, I swear, I still to this day can’t hardly watch it. He looks so puke face, I need phenergan to watch. But he ends it very strong. Way stronger than I did. Bitter?! Nooooo, not me. I just had to watch him go out in that very HOT leather jacket and totally NAIL BOTW again! Those eyes! Those hands on that mic stand, I am so fricking jealous of that mic stand. I want to be that inanimate object in my next life. Does that tell you how close I must be to the end of this life?
His face though, at the end? Perfection, he knew he rocked, and he knew he wasn’t gonna win, but he knew we loved him. But then, again, why the h*ll did he choose this night to wear a SO obvious t-shirt under the sexy outfit?! Must have been trying to avoid a this year George-type armpit disaster. His face was SO beautiful in our last shot of him before we went to Ruben land.
On to big voice weirdo land, then Ain’t No Stopping Us Now. He had such obvious affection for Ruben during this number, I kinda prepared myself, as much as I could. No matter what happened, it was all cool. Yeah. Then… the moment of “truth”. Ryan said Ruben. And I fell in love all over again. No one ever in the history of the world has been as gracious. Ever. And then he got in his little shot, we’ll compete on the charts. Heh heh. Um, yeah. And you know, they, the infamous PTB, knew, cause he got so much camera time to give his own little speech. He was winning even while he was losing.
Okay, finally, I think Dear Clabby called it a clyster. In the states, it is called an enema. I think I have finally, maybe, perhaps, purged my angst over this night. We all know who the champ really is. And it ISN’T JUST US.
Someone, come hold my hand?! Whimper.
Okay, finally, FINALLY, I have this behind me. I have watched every second of this hated night. And I realize, tomorrow is another day. It’s gonna be beautiful weather, I’m gonna drive to work with the top down on the car, enjoying totally another morning God gives us. Why, OH, WHY, have I put off watching this and gaining this catharsis moment? Um, cause I’m blond? I pay for the color, but I earn it every ding dang day.
I guess I put off this moment for the same reason I am watching AI3. It so totally doesn’t have an ounce of relevance in the world, but for some reason I am compelled. I can so totally see myself watching Clay on specials on TV in 30 years, if I am so lucky to live that long, and so cannot see myself watching any of these AI3 jokers beyond their 15 minutes on E! for this season.
Okay, thus endeth the lamo recaps. Breath for me Broads. *whimper*
from Jill
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3:02 am - Thursday,May 6, 2004
