The Secrets of My Shower
You guys... who is this guy Chris on American Idol? The one with the big afro and the pudgy hands and the wicked excellent sense of humor? Because he's awesome. Is it possible that someone as obviously intelligent and non-annoying could actually become our next American Idol?
Wait... what? Did you guys answer that question? I couldn't hear you over the braying sound of Taylor Hicks' laughter. And the shrieking cackle of Kelly Pickler. And the weird gurgling that Bo Bice carries in the back of his throat.
But no matter. I can root for Chris and that beat-boxing guy and Lakisha, she of the soft-spoken dreams, and that girl who used to be a back-up singer. And I have someone to hate, too. That girl Antonella. The one who's best friend got kicked off. She seems like a smug little princess to me. Chris will destroy her.
Here, however, is the big topic of the day, framed as a question: Am I the only one who imagines auditioning for this show? I'm always thinking about which songs I would choose, and I even--wow, this isn't easy--pretend in the shower that my audition is happening at that moment. Lately, I've been wowing the judges with my rendition of Erasure's power-pop classic "A Little Respect." See, that song shows the full extent of my (imagined) range, leaping from thundering bass notes to a tear-inducing tenor.
And for my encore? Why, that's "Righteous Love" by Joan Osborne. Damn, you know? (If you don't know that song, please go listen to it. It's an amazing blues-rock song that sounds like a lost anthem from the 1960s.)
Now I'm not bold enough to imagine myself winning it all. For now, the fantasy stops with me getting through to Hollywood. But who knows? Maybe next year--if they extend the age limit by one year--I'll be the one working my way into some blogger's heart.