American Cheese

All right. OK. So here is where all of the cool points I’ve accumulated over the past year (they’re like Green Stamps, but don’t taste like gummy sweat) are now in jeopardy of being torn from my grubby grasp, when I tell you that yes, I am watching American Idol this season. I told myself I wasn’t going to watch this drivel, that it was a complete waste of time and that I had better things to do with the 32 hours a week that this show consumes, but really it’s not my fault.
It’s the fault of guys like Ace Young and Chris Daughtry, who, just on looks alone, can make me listen to anything they have to say or sing but who, fortunately, can actually sing, so I don’t have to appear as shallow as I secretly am. Or Taylor Hicks, whose undeniable talent and passion for music is just as alluring as Ace’s and Chris’s looks, and whose looks, which appeal to me in another way, are augmented by his off-the-wall personality. It’s also the fault of Elliott Yamin, who, although not my cup of tea looks-wise, is indeed the cream in my coffee because somehow he actually made me dig a Stevie Wonder song that I have never otherwise enjoyed, and Bucky Covington, who reminds me enough of Bo Bice that I am forced to sit up and take notice.
I hear there are girls on this show, too, but that is just an unfortunate inevitability that I’ll have to accept.
So if you invite me out on a Tuesday or Wednesday night for the duration of the American Idol season, and I actually accept the invitation rather than stay at home ogling these fellows while eating a big bowl of grapes and strawberries (these two fruits are particularly tasty when topped with drool), you should realize the sacrifice I am making by not being able to watch the show “live”.
Now I know I have to regain the valuable cool points I just lost by confessing this hideous sin to you. Any suggestions how I can do that?