Watches?!? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Watches!

It's been years since I've worn a watch, probably close to 10. Up until that point I wore them religiously. It started out with my first Swatch when I was in middle school. I wore it all the time. I wore it to bed; I wore it in the shower (it was waterproof). Later, as I grew out of the Swatch watches and into the Swiss Army watches, I no longer wore my watch in the shower, but I did wear it to bed. It had glow in the dark hands so I could see it when I woke up suddenly in the night. For some reason, I wake up panicked and I have to know what time it is. This might be because I wore a watch to bed for so many years. Or I may have worn a watch to bed because of this time disorienting panic disorder I have.



And then I met Doc. He never wore a watch. "I don't need one," he expained. "There's clocks everywhere and there's usually at least one person in the room who will have the time and give it to you when you ask." He was also constantly breaking them and found them confining in more ways than one. I don't think he likes having one physically on his arm, but moreso, he vehemently demands freedom from the tyranny of time. Those who know him are probably familiar with his infamous "Gimme twenty minutes" gambit. Doc's "twenty minutes" are as flexible as taffy. Wearing a watch would turn his taffy into rocks.



As much as I've groused about this time taffy, I've also tried to learn from it. I believe a lot of my depression stems from the sorrow that this too shall pass. Even while I was in the middle of having a good time, my eye would be on the clock and I would be fretting about the fact that this good time would be over soon. Of course I was not wise enough to remember that just because this good time is over, doesn't mean that all good times are over.



Watching Doc saunter through his days, his time his own inspired me. I took my watch off as an experiement to see if I could be more like him and less concerned with "when" and more involved with "how" and "why" and "who." And so far, so good. I'm still worried about the time. I look at the clock often. I check my cell phone to see what time it is. I even wake up in the middle of the night, search for the clock on the cable box, note the time and drift back off to sleep. However, now, when I'm in the middle of something and I feel the time fluttering away from me like a long ribbon, I just hold on to my hat and let go of the panic. Sometimes, I even give myself "Twenty Minutes" to do things.



To this day, my Swiss Army watch with glow in the dark hands and the date indicator, sits in my junk drawer, a relic. As you know, I recently cleaned out that drawer and the watch made the cut; it did not get pitched, but it's still classified as "junk." Doc saw it in there and noted, "There's your watch..."



"Yep," I said giving it a look and closing the drawer, thinking I would never were it or its kind again.



That is until the other day...



I was entering my codes in the My Coke Rewards program. We had about 350 points and I was shopping through the items, not confident that I would find anything good. And what should pop up in the list, but an American Idol watch!!! It silver with a black face and band. The American Idol logo is splashed across the middle and the hands glow in the dark. I immediately ordered it and applied all but one of my points to obtaining it.



The watch arrived yesterday and I immediatly removed it from the packaging and put it on. I was somewhat concerened that this act would bind me again in the shackles of time, like I had been in the past. But so far, so good. It's not much more than a bracelet in my mind. Also, it's a great conversation piece. And, it's totally awesome. I'll keep you posted on my time frame of mind.

Dream Girls Is Da Bomb, Dawg!

My hat's off to Jennifer Hudson, my girl from Season 3; she blew it out the box, to coin a phrase. I got the DVD for my dad for Father's Day and made him promise he'd watch it with me. I knew he'd enjoy the movie because he is a total Motown fan (among other things). One of the cool things about my Dad is his love of music. He's turned me on to a lot of great music (Buddy Holly, The Beatles, B.B. King). But then, he's let me turn him on to a few things too (Violent Femmes, Daughtry, Early American Christmas music). He never takes the attitude that he knows best, though he certainly could. He never stopped me from listening to any music of any kind. In fact, he let me buy my very own copy of Get Lucky when I was 13, even though letting my buy an album with a guy's butt gave him pause.




I blame him for my eclectic taste in music; I'll never forgive him for waking me up one morning in high school by blasting "Weclome to the Jungle". Ever since then, I tried to like music that bugged him and then insisted he give it a listen. I found some pretty cool stuff that way. Eventually I quit with that bullshit, but I've always tried to keep an open mind about music.

Anyway, that's why I wanted to share this movie with my dad. The movie seemed like it would be a serindipitous meeting of his thing (Motown) and my thing (American Idol). It was, to a point. After a while, Lucy had a meltdown, then Uncle Charlie arrived, then Dad nodded off (to be fair, the movie was loooooong). But I was glad we watched it together.

I was really touched, to be honest, that he heeded my wishes and waited three months till we had the time to see it togther. Even though we live in the same town now, I still don't see him as often as I thought I would. But that will change, now, since I'm working so close to home. Even though car show season is winding down, we do have Halloween coming up and Dad and I will probably take the girls around. I just have to make sure I keep up with what's going on and keep ahead of his busy schedule.

And we all need to say a rousing chourus of "You go, girl!" for my Mom. She got a contract on their old house and the sale is probably 21 days away. She was patient and competent with the buyers, whom she represents. So, when it comes time to pay up, Mom won't have to split the comission with anyone. She rocked that deal!

God, you guys; I'm so happy these days. I've got a sane job, I've got great family, and I'm all better...the cold's gone, the stomach dragon left, and I am no longer suffering from depression. Halleluia.

Skyler's Dad Wants To Know...

Recently, Skyler's Dad offered to interview me to help me get through this little slump I'm in. I gladly took him up on the offer.

1. Do you still have the picture of tongue disorders, and did you ever put it up on your refrigerator?
   
   Yes, I do still have those pictures that David Sedaris gave me. And, no, I never put them on my fridge. They are safely ensconced within my signed copy of Dress Your Family in Courduroy and Denim, which has a home on the top shelf of my closet. Man, that was three years ago. Time flies, doesn't it?
   
2. Where are all of the towns you have called home?
   
   Well, I'm an Ohio girl through and through. I've never lived in any other state. However I have scooted here and there over the years. In particular, I have lived in Canton, Cleveland, Lakewood, University Heights, Newark, New Albany and Columbus.
   
   Some may scoff at Ohio, but I think it is a very beautiful state and full of variety. It is urban and Appalachian. It's farmland and forest. At least five presidents were born here and one was born in my home town. We've got Amish, too, so there's aways "home cooking" to be had and hand-crafted furniture.
   
3. If you could change one habit about Doc, what would it be?
   
   OK, here we go. He has this habit of saying, "I'll be back in twenty minutes." As you may have read here, he went to great lengths to define what he means when he says certain things, especially when he talks about time. You may not have noticed (but I sure did) that "twenty minutes" remains undefined. If I could change one habit of his, I wish that when he said he'd be back/done in twenty minutes, he meant a span of time resembling 18-23 minutes, rather than a nebulous 25 minutes to 4 hours.
   
4. I loved your open letter to your daughters. If you were to write it again today, would it still read the same?
   
   Thank you. Yes it most definately would read the same. As I re-read it, I was glad to note that I still stand behind that statement just as much as when I wrote it, if not more.
   
5. Can you somehow, someway explain the allure of American Idol to me? I will reciprocate by attempting to explain anything you ask of me...
   
   For me, the allure of American Idol lies in its potential for magical moments. While I do enjoy the trainwreck it can be, I much prefer the times when humanity shines through it. There is so much manufactured drama/emotion/magic in the world today, it's rare to see something authentically transcendent. There have been moments on that show when I know I've been a witness to art in action on so many levels.
   
   For example, in this past season, I thought the talent was about the best ever, but I hadn't really connected personally with any of the artists. This is hardly surprising; I'm not sure I fall into the target audience. Anyway, it was country night and I was watching out of duty to the process rather than any real excitement about the prospects. And Blake Lewis busted out with the song When the Skies Go Blue...
   
   
   
   Maybe it was the combination of the argyle sweater and this dreamy song, but he delivered it and I felt a connection. I got goosebumps. I felt the magic of the music, which, for some reason, becomes more elusive the older I get.
   
   So, in a nutshell: I watch American Idol to mine for new music gold. And I love Ryan Seacrest.
   
   Can you explain the appeal of Desparate Housewives?
   
6. Are you ever going to post a picture of the new do?
   
   Yes. I'll post it here tonight when I get home. I promise. I had lost my camera for a couple of weeks, then my hair needed cut and colored. I've done that and I think I'm ready for my close-up.
   
7. Has your hate for Mel Gibson subsided any?
   
   I don't think I ever hated him. I'm angry with him. As a Christian, I think he represents the worst of us and actually does damage to our image, so to speak, especially in the eyes of people who aren't Christian. He violates rule number one: Do no harm.
   
8. How long have you known Big Orange?
   
   I have known him for 18 years. Jesus, that's a long time.
   
9. How has blogging changed you?
   
   I see the world a bit differently. I start noticing the little things and instead of letting them flee by, I capture them here for my blog. For example, today, at lunch, I saw a poseur punk girl in a dress length black tee (with jeans, natch). Written upon this tee in purple, 250 pt Arial letters was the proverb: Rehab is the New Black. Gag me. It was reminiscent of those "Choose Life" tees that Wham! used to wear. I knew I had to tell you all about it because I know you would mock her with me. And I need partners in mocking.
   
   Blogging has made the minute relevant for me. I can capture the minutia, bring it here, blow it up and use it to entertain you. I am an entertainer at heart. And an attention whore. Plus blogging has helped me hone my writing. By making all this nonsense public, especially to a bunch of other writers, I've really learned how to mind my p's and q's and also how to shape my message so that it is communicated well.
   
   Blogging has also removed the stigma of online relationships in my mind. I feel like the people I know online are perceptive, intelligent, hip and free-thinking people, the kind of people that I want to populate my life with. So what if we may never meet face to face? I still feel like we're friends. And when I read blogs written by people I know in person, I feel like I get to know them much better than if we didn't exchange written ideas.
   
10. How has losing your grandfather changed you?
    
    I'm not sure. I kind of feel like he's still with me, so I haven't really lost him. But his passing has taught me that I can go on, but not without a few break-downs every now and then. I've learned how to grieve.

Thank you so much for the questions!

I Have Been Bludgeoned By The Frying Pan Of Talent

Blake Lewis, Love Child of Bono and Morrissey

I have just returned home from seeing Idols Live! at the Wolstein Center in Cleveland, Ohio. It was three hours long and I survived it. I went with Elizabeth and Sarah and Melissa. It was a dream come true, or so I thought. Sarah and Elizabeth are my Idol buddies and I wouldn't have wanted to see this concert with anyone else. We spent many hours deconstructing the show when it was on the air and examining theories.

I would like to say that the whole thing was a blast, and it was, but not in the way you may think. The glory notes hit us square in the face over and over again, like some blood thirsty Viking with a grudge and a wedgie. Sure there was talent and there were some great moments, but overall, the show had the sad feeling of yesterday's news. Honestly, it's been months since the finale and to rehash the entire last thirteen weeks in three hours left the stink of desparation in the air. Also, the top ten Idols seemed tossed to the lions by the producers. I swear, the amount of money that show made, they could have thrown more dough at this production. The set looked like a high school production of American Idol; it seemed to be made of posterboard and tempra paints.

The light show was fantastic and there were some great moments. Here are the highlights:

• Anytime Blake Lewis was on the stage. He was confident and entertaining. His first number was "Time of the Season," and by the time he sang, "What's your name, Who's your daddy?" I was saying, "Flannery Alden and Your My Daddy." He was generous with the other Idols and the band and back up singers. He even tried to teach the audience how to beat box, which was nice of him, if ill advised.
• Lakisha blew the roof off the joint, dawg. I swear, I had goose bumps. I've never heard anything like it. She sang Whitney's I Will Always Love You with none of the cloying sincerity of its original. Also, she sang it better than Dolly, and if you know me at all, you know that NO ONE could ever top Dolly in my mind. Until today, that is.
• Chris Richardson has really grown. His voice was superb and when he and Jordan sang a duet it was magical. Also, he and Blake are obviously good friends now and had a beat-boxing showdown that was so charming I wanted to take them both home and have them for dinner.
• Sanjaya was love. He was truly entertaining and his duet with Melinda was wonderful.
• Gina Glockson was fantastic. Better than she was on the show. That girl has chops.
  

And now the bad and the ugly:

• Phil Fucking Stacy. I swear, the things you see when you haven't got your gun. This asshat appointed himself Ryan Seacrest and tried to hoist the show on his shoulders with the power of the love that radiates from his very center. Oh, barf. At one point he sang, in his sailor suit, no less, the most indulgent version of America the Beautiful I've ever heard. It was even worse than fucking Proud to be an American.
• Haley Scarnato has embraced her inner skank and showed off the movies she'd obviously picked up from the stripper pole workout she's been doing. Honestly, I didn't have an opinion of her one way or the other before the live show. Now, I loathe her. It was gross.
• Melinda Doolittle did not live up to expectations, not that I had many for her. I think she's a good singer, but tonight: meh.
• Chris Sligh. Shiver. When he came on stage, the lines in the bathroom were longer than they were during intermission. He is still the same asshole he was during the show.
• Jordan Sparks was absent from the first half of the show and then was featured at the end doing an endless run of the songs she did during the season. Booooooring.
• Every number the girls did together was terrible. They did Lady Marmalade and they all wore hooker gear. It was stupid and pointless. Then they did another song, where they tromped around in more hooker gear. It was sad and lacked imagination. Though, during all these numbers, it was obvious that Lakisha was over it. Good for her, I say.
• The Idol Band. The guys formed their own band and it was pathetic. Phil Stacy overdid it and the only one who looked like he belonged there was my boy Blake.
• The absence of Ryan Seacrest left the burden of MC'ing and ad-libbing to these poor dolts who have lived in a vaccuum. Without his charm and leadership, this ship sunk.
• At no time was "Idols Gives Back" mentioned. There was no update on the progress.
• At the end of the show, as Jordan was belting that awful Idol "single," a large portion of the stage opened up and the remaining nine slinked out from underground. Phil Stacy was the first one out and I started looking for a wooden stake to drive through his heart, thinking he had just risen from the dead. Really, who planned this farce? Why would any producer think that watching the Idols emerge from the earth was a good idea? It was funny for all the wrong reasons.

The worst thing about this production was that it was done on the cheap. It's like the producers cut these kids loose with no support. The costumes were community-theater quality, the choreography was stupid and lame, and, again, no words from Ryan or the judges. It was shameful.

One of the best parts of the experience, though, was the people sitting around us. They were all 50 plus and hilarious. One guy said to us as we took our seats, "I hope you don't mind, but I plan on singing along." Later, when we were all delerious from the endless parade of hopeful pluck, the guys behind us kept screaming "Sanjaya!" in their best girly voices.

And the very best part was when Elizabeth was absolutely gob-smacked by the horror of Phil Stacy on the stage. I couldn't stop laughing; this was cruise-ship entertainment at its very worst. Of course I was losing it during the patriotic part of the show, which was delightfully inappropriate.

All in all, I'm glad I went. I never have to go to another one, though. But I would pay money to see Chris Richardson, Blake Lewis and Sanjaya if they ever went on tour. Brilliant.

Seacrest, out.

Oh, Tasty Schadenfreude!

Guess who's joined the ranks of celebrity apology-makers! It is Ty Pennington! He was arrested on drunken driving charges. Finally, this clean-cut, hunky do-gooder with quip package has tarnished his halo.

Not that I am against do-gooders. I just can't stomach all the "look at these unfortunate people and watch us change their lives for the better by spending millions of dollars on ridiculous construction projects when giving that kind of money to Habitat for Humanity would help so many more people but if we did that you couldn't see how wonderful we are being so we opt for the showy, yet much less effective, ta-dah! instead," bullshit he represents.

Extreme Home Makeover reminds me of the show "Bye Bye Birdie," where a rock star is drafted and his PR people decide that he'll symbolically kiss all the girls goodbye by picking one girl and kissing her on TV. It's a stunt that purposefully pushes certain buttons in people to coax out a specific emotion, i.e. an emotional lapdance. It also seems to exempt them from doing any real good in the world. ABC could learn a thing or two from Fox and Idol Gives Back.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

GET OFF MY TV, W AND STEP AWAY FROM MY AMERICAN IDOL! HOW DARE YOU THANK ME FOR HELPING PEOPLE IN POVERTY?!? WHY DON'T YOU LIFT A PRETTY LITTLE MANICURED FINGER AND DO SOMETHING YOURSELF?!? HOW ABOUT FIRING SOME PEOPLE? HOW ABOUT COPPING TO YOUR FATAL LAPSES OF JUDGEMENT?!? HOW ABOUT STEPPING THE FUCK DOWN AND BITING MY SHINY METAL ASS?!?

DON'T THINK YOU WILL WIN ANY POINTS BACK FOR BEING ON THIS SHOW. I'M SURPRISED THE AUDIENCE DIDN'T BOO YOUR ASS. THEY WERE PROBABLY AS SHOCKED AS I WAS TO SEE YOUR OVER-REHEARSED BANTER/PANDERING MUG BESMIRCHING THE ATMOSPHERE OF IDOL AND TAINTING ALL THAT IT STANDS FOR! COME ON, THEY JUST GOT CREDIBILITY AND NOW YOU'VE SHIT ALL OVER IT!

Seacrest out.

Sanjaya Is Love

I was moved to tears at Sanjaya's ousting tonight. I'm not sad he's leaving; I kind of figured as much. When Chris started talking about Virgina, I knew that would draw attention and votes away from him.

No, I was moved by that kid's spirit. He was this season's zonk and he took it in stride. He embraced the phenomenon, even though it was at his expense. He pulled through it with a laugh, a smile, and some serious eye moves that would make Constantine proud. Well played.

Good-bye, Sanjaya. I hope you and Celine Dion can someday co-host a talk show.

Besame Mucho.

Sanjaya Daydreamin'

I was just sitting here and I found myself fantasizing about what Sanjaya will do tonight. I'm not sure I even know what the theme is.

I hope that he rides in on a unicorn, wearing a Manchester United uniform with his tommy guns ablaze, singing "Yeah" by Usher.

I'll probably even vote for him.

Edited to add: I hope he wears his hair in pigtails.

God Has Blessed Sanjaya Malakar OR Sanjay Malakar's Wish Has Been Granted By A Malevolent Leprechaun

Let's weigh the evidence...

1. He's famous, a household name
2. He's found a winning gimmick (see photo above)
3. He's working very hard to keep his shit together
4. People hate him
5. People love him
6. People who hate American Idol love him
7. He has become a posterboy for something, perhaps schadenfreude
8. His singing talent has abandoned him
9. It no longer makes him ill that he is still on the show
10. He has embraced his freak status and is working it
11. He may no longer have exclusive rights to his own soul (I think this is not specific to Sanjaya; it seems to happen to everyone who makes it to the finals)
12. He will be tourning the country this summer as a pop star
13. He will make tons of money
14. He's a joke, but he's also laughing
15. His popularity squeezed out Chris Sligh (This is God's blessing to us all)

Is it a result of prayer? Or is this the doing of a trickster leprechaun? What do you think?

Incidentally, He has caused over 100 different people to visit my blog daily, so I now LOVE him and have completely forgiven him for singing "Waiting on the World to Change."

SANJAYA MUST GO!!!

He has comitted a mortal sin in the eyes of yours truly; he sang "Waiting for the World to Change," the great and terrible slacker anthem. As I listened to this "performance," my blood ran cold; my mild distaste for this poor, wispy little person turned to icy hatred. I won't quote the lyrics in their entirity, lest you fall over dead from the overdose of holier-than-thou apathy dripping from the insidious lips of John Mayer. Steel yourself, here they come:

me and all my friends

we're all misunderstood

they say we stand for nothing and

there's no way we ever could

now we see everything that's going wrong

with the world and those who lead it

we just feel like we don't have the means

to rise above and beat it

so we keep waiting

waiting on the world to change

we keep on waiting

waiting on the world to change

First of all, I must say, John Mayer is one passive-aggressive mutherfucker and has now replaced Mel Gibson as my new whipping boy. This song gives the youth of today an excuse for fiddling while Rome burns, in my opinion. After all, scorched earth is a changed world, right? And when everything is burned to the ground, these self-righteous do-nothings can say, "Hey, you never asked me what I thought; it ain't my fault." I also have issues with John Mayer driving me to use a phrase like "the youth of today," but more on him at a later date.

Secondly, the fact that Sanjaya sang this anthem to shrugging to his teeming hordes of tween speed-dialers, makes me crazy (you can't blame his success on the Vote for the Worst people either; their pick is Sundance Head). It is an obvious ploy to appeal to the young, priviledged girls of America, who are his base and can afford the "standard text messaging rates," and whose lithe manicured fingers never tire of dialing. By coupling his wispy swarthiness with pretend depth and angst, he doubles his exoticism by making him seem both worldly and world-weary, kryptonite to his voting bloc.

When I watched him sing this, I wanted to gnash my teeth, scratch at my face and raise my fists to the gods and shriek for vengeance, Elektra style. I knew this performance would guarantee him a final twelve spot. After I counted to what I could remember of 1-10, I returned to my senses; there are still plenty of other guys who can be sacrificed in the contest before Sanjaya. As long as Blake and Chris R. are safe, I will stay my righteous anger. Instead, I profer forth this plea to the privilidged parents of preteens everywhere:

Fathers be stern with your daughters;
Daughters will vote for this tool, yeah.
Girls become fans who turn dorks into stars,
So mothers be stern with your daughters, too.

Boys you can bet,
They aren't interested in this shit.
Boys will ignore, and boys will move on,
But boys will be doomed if they don't vote

For Melinda's good, good voice.

On behalf of every fan, searching for a real winner,
You are in charge! Cut off her cell phone.
On behalf of every fan who needs real talent to win,
You are the hope, and can put an end to this cornpone.

Fathers be stern with your daughters,
Daughters will vote for this tool, yeah.
Girls become fans who turn dorks into stars,

So mothers be stern with your daughters, too.

So mothers be stern with your daughters, too.