The Joys of Good Friends & American Idol

Home from work last night, still feeling as though I'd been crapped on, I changed outta my stuffy work clothes, into something muy, muy more comfortable, before we were to go visit wonderful friends for dinner. Minutes later, we were driving up the road on our way, and while tearing up, I told my honey-man that I wasn't ready for the evening, and that I didn't want to go; that I didn't want to have to put on a happy face and fake it and that I didn't think I could.

And I was right, I couldn't do it - - BUHHHT, turns out, I didn't have to.

We walked in the door and they were all so happy to see us, and the baby boys were soooo dang disgustingly cute, and my honey-man was so dang disgustingly cute, sitting on the floor with the baby boys, and the wine was poured, and the conversations were rolling, and the bruschetta was scrumptious (it really was, Kim!) and the dinner, it was soooo delicious (it really was, Kim!)... GOOD FRIENDS ARE PRICELESS!

But then...?

"Oh, it's time for American Idol," says Kimmy, as she hops right up from the table, then and there, and immediately leads the way out of the dinning room... right now!

BACKGROUND INFO: My honey-man had never before watched American Idol.

So we all moved into the TV room and we sat down and got all comfy with our cups of decaf and nummy caramel walnut tart. And then the show? I swear, my honey-man was as entertaining as the show, itself! His pained expressions and the groaning agony, his knee jerk reactions and his roaring laughter, through tears of horror and shared embarrassment and twisted bemusement... watching my honey-man squirm like that? I have to admit, in a kind of semi-guilty way, it was a blast! ~ He was just so cute! [A VERY GUILTY ADMISSION: Um, ahhhh, yeah - I'm admitting that I basically enjoyed his discomfort at the time = I'm a terrible person.] Yet by 9:30 pm, seeing the emotional exhaustion on my honey-man's face, I had a certain suspicion, which I planned to test out later once the show was well over and he'd had the chance to recover a bit.

On the way back 'home,' I asked my honey-man if he 'd want to watch American Idol next week...

His answer was given in an exaggerated and deliberately slow and emphatic manner, clearly communicating that the matter was not up for discussion: "Nooooo." And I knew exactly why not.

There's supposed to be a screening process for all American Idol auditions. And we should all recognize producers let the less-blessed vocals through that final audition door, knowing these people don't have a chance in hell for makin' Hollywood... also knowing the U.S. public enjoys a good freak show! Some of those apparently deluded people, who make through to the final audition room, despite a total lack of vocal talent, are clearly out of touch with reality in many different ways, but once the audition is over, the pain of rejection that they feel is very really = those tears are real.

I knew my honey-man wouldn't be able to sit and watch all that and enjoy it. He'll happily watch Scarface, yes, but real people, crying real tears? Nope. And I don't think that most people actually enjoy that aspect of the show much either, but my honey-man, he just can't take it and he won't not ever again, and I know it.

Me though? If I remember to, I'll be watching at least one more auditions broadcast.