
I knew I’d need something to hop to after finishing the Taylor Hicks memoir, Heart Full of Soul. Because I’m like Amanda Overmyer, always with my nose in a book, you see. So I chose Chicken Soup for the American Idol Soul. I was serious when I said it really existed. And I found a cheap copy online, way less than the retail price of $14.95, but so far it’s been worth every penny, each page reminding me that you can’t really put a price on inspiration. It’s so true. Just today I read about how Clay Aiken helped a young female fan’s body image by appearing to enjoy the company of a plus-size young woman in his hit “Invisible” video. From that moment on he requested that only regular-looking people be in his videos. This had nothing at all to do with making him look less geeky. He had love and inner healing to deliver.
And it’s been a banner week for my mailbox, re: all things Idol, because Fox sent me a promotional magnet and stickers. It’s pretty elaborate, a very large glossy paperboard thing with 12 boxes on it, which in turn are meant to frame sticker-photos of the top 12. Then, as each failed singer gets eliminated, there are red “X” stickers you can put over their faces. I gave a few seconds’ thought to simply eBaying the David Archuleta sticker and buying a new iPod with the money, but then I remembered that I have a very important job to do here and that it would be cheating y’all out of your chance to see me interact with this bit of promo swag. Once I get my shit together I’ll have some photos taken of me X’ing off discarded Idols. It’s going to be fun for all of us.
They’ve got new opening credits now. After years of use, the Fame Elevator has been razed and the lady-man-robot-singer-thing digitally erased for all time. It was nice knowing you, lady-man-robot-singer-thing. In place of Fame Elevator, there’s now a giant SuperFameCocaColaStadiumDome that looks a lot like the Theme Building at LAX. It does to me, anyway. An identifiable man and identifiable woman give each other a sultry glance, one of them grips the microphone, and out they march, side by side, to the Cathy Dennis Battle Hymn, ready to stake their rightful claim on appearances on Us Weekly’s worst-dressed pages, lunch at the Ivy, and/or future stints on Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew. Then the whole thing turns into a theme park roller coaster with spinning, gyroscoping American Idol logos speeding past as former Idol winners are more or less represented on flashing JumboTrons. The More: Kelly, Carrie, and Jordin. The Less: Ruben, The Boogie, Fantasia. In fact, The Boogie, who was unceremoniously decapitated in earlier Fame Elevator credit moments this season, actually gets more face time than Ruben and Fantasia, even though all of them require hitting TiVo’s “slow” button to be fully seen for anything more than 1/25 of a second.
More excitement: I’m watching tonight’s show over at a friend’s house with a bunch of gays. These gays have a new HD TV. I’ve never watched anything in high-def before tonight. I’ll be interested in seeing Seacrest’s pores and pockmarks. Microstitching and bolts too, provided he’s got those. Anyway, after a few seconds I’m already a little freaked out by the HD. I can see Seacrest’s makeup job a little too well.
“Say hello to our new set, America,” implores HD-Seacrest. All the gays in the room say hello. But we don’t mean it. The new set is overwhelmingly huge, spinny, and probably seizure-inducing if you’re standing inside it. The band is on the second story of it. And as an added bonus/threat, former Top 12 contestants with stalled post-Idol careers have been encased in blue aluminum and affixed to the ceiling, a warning to those below. Only Jim Verraros, wily gay that he is, managed to escape. This is a good thing because I’m sort of looking forward to Eating Out 3. Anyway, the set gets a standing ovation from the Idol audience. Those people are already in crushy love. But I’ll need it to woo and court me. Bring me a cookie bouquet. At the very least call me the next day. HD-Seacrest is very excited about the new set and eager to prove to America what a Regular Joe he is by asking crew members to show off the set and lights. My favorite part is how he calls them out by name and adds “buddy” and “my man” to the end of each request. And you know that’s not fake either. I bet he’s one of those guys who memorizes the first and last names of the crew, learns the names of their significant others and children, researching their backgrounds so he can bond more efficiently in their weekly moments together and then managing to keep it all straight from job to job to job to job to job. Sleep is for Jeff Foxworthy.
Mosh pit. HD-Seacrest just called the brand-new area in front of the judges where foxy young people are allowed to stand and be overly excited a “mosh pit.”
Ha ha. Good one, my man. Also buddy.
Then HDS introduces the judges. Banter involving Simon’s open-shirted, chest-baring exhibitionism ensues. Friend on the couch Gary says, “Those two are the new Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson.” I find this to be an accurate assessment.
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