It's been a long season of American Idol. There have been fun times, there have been not-so-much fun times and there's a bill to pay. It's only fair. After all, we give to FOX and the AI producers our time, hours from each week to sit and watch and study and analyze this bizarre but captivating series. Some of us even buy the products that they so constantly and consistently hype. And what does this show give us -- the viewers? Aggravation. Anger. Astonishment. Amusement. Angina. Something in this equation just doesn't seem equitable. So FOX, AI big people, you owe me.
You owe me first and foremost an apology. Why, you ask? For not allowing Lisa Leuschner the opportunity to compete. For not giving me the chance to vote for her. For humiliating her (and the others) on national television after allowing them to practice and rehearse for one week, expecting to compete on the wildcard show. And instead of being able to take the stage, they are told to take a seat. Next time, let them all compete or don't choose them in the first place.
You owe me 1.5 bottles of Advil pain reliever. Why? For forcing me to listen to the warbling of Leah Vladawhatever later LaBelle. For this child, Lisa is sacrificed. And out of spite, she is chosen as a top-twelver. Not elected, mind you, by the American people. Chosen, picked, selected by one of your people. Not one of mine.
You owe me 7 bottles of Sominex. Why? I used to sleep like a baby. Through the night. Dreams, when I had them, were pleasant. Now I am awakened through the night by the recurring nightmare of Matt Rogers in a bubble bath. Introducing that image into my mind and into my dreams was unnecessary, unwise and inexusable.
You owe me the price of plaster and one quart of white paint. Why? This is to repair the damage done to the wall of my home office when, upon learning of Amy Adams' dismissal, a dent appeared in my north wall when said wall made contact with the television remote control.
You owe me a new television remote control. Despite the damage done during the Amy incident, the remote remained in working order until the button called MUTE was rendered worthless from overuse during Elton John week. I think it broke when the crocodile rocked the rocket man.
You owe me one can Formula 409 carpet cleaner. Why? Three words: Camile. Dog. Puked.
You owe me two cans Formula 409 upholstery cleaner and one bottle Spray and Wash. For what happened to me when Jennifer Hudson was booted. And then again when Jasmine wasn't.
You owe me two new telephones. Ones with functional redials. Mine are broke.
You owe me one box Puffs. Extra Strength. Why? Because disco week should have been scheduled earlier. By the time that bossy little Diana told me no more tears, it was too late.
So...does American Idol owe you anything?
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