As I try not to watch the driveway for the FedEx truck, waiting for the arrival of I Heart Felt, I do have a distraction- a sure thing that has taken my mind off almost everything else. My shameful addiction returns tonight.
That's right. I'm an Idol junkie. I think I've only missed three episodes in the first six seasons (once for an out of town funeral, once because we were in the Minneapolis/St Paul airport on our way back home from a wonderful trip to the west coast, and once to see a good friend at a book signing), and book or no book, I'll be front and center in my living room tonight.
Why do I love American Idol? Beats the hell outta me. I guess I just love watching the transformation from awkward auditioners to polished performers (and sometimes the deterioration of talent and skill). And I love that little thrill when I hear *The One* in the auditions. It happened with Clay Aiken. It happened with Taylor Hicks. It happened with Melinda Doolittle. It also happened with Josh Gracin and Scott Savol but we won't talk about that. And I love finding The Hated One (Mikalah Gordon, Kellie Pickler, and everyone else's faves last year, Blake Lewis and Chris Richardson).
I watch. I obsess. I (insert small voice) vote. And I'm certain I'll blog. From tonight until the middle of May, American Idol owns me.
So go ahead and despise me. I'll be too busy being mesmerized to care.