Well, I successfully avoided it for three entire seasons, but last night I happened to have my tuner card on Fox and I got sucked in by the machine.

This year, we travel to the lovely coliseum in our nation’s capitol. The lion lineup included such discerning tastemakers as That Former Laker Girl, That Mean British Guy, a surprisingly kind and lucid Jackson family member and, as a guest snacker, some hot dude from a band. And, as usual, you (and now I), gentle readers, are playing the role of The Bloodthirsty Mob in this year’s meat circus.

As Andy Dehnart says in this mornings MSNBC recap, it’s difficult to tell whether most of what we’re seeing is a glorious put-on by some very clever moles or the sad, tatty dreams of some very delusional individuals. I’m praying for the former, but as a fellow human being (at least, I think we’re all fellow human beings), I thought it might my duty to offer up a few helpful observations for those seriously contemplating joining in the next round of this madness. After all, being Kelly Clarkson, while not my particular cup o’ java, is apparently a mighty big carrot at the end of this particular stick.

THINGS TO THINK ABOUT AND/OR DO BEFORE DECIDING TO AUDITION FOR THE NEXT ROUND OF AMERICAN IDOL

1. Busk at a busy city street corner for at least four hours. If you make less than one dollar per hour, rethink your plans.
2. If anyone pays you to stop singing, cancel them immediately.
3. If you are thinking of breaking out of the facility in which you are currently institutionalized in order to attend the audition, don’t.
4. If you are auditioning because a member of your family is an amazing, famous pop singer, remember, Bill Clinton has a brother, too.
5. If you are auditioning because the people around you will not shut up about how you totally sound just as good as Cristina Aguilara, remember, it doesn’t count if they’re sleeping with you.
6. Or drunk.
7. Or if any of them are Jesus.
8. If, however, you are auditioning because you think you might be the next William Hung, remember—there was no Son of Pet Rock.
9. When selecting your audition piece, pick one key and really commit to it.
10. Yes, all the way through.
11. Also, try to avoid anything that is an automatic punch line for the judges, such as “Beat It,” “I Can’t Live Without You” or anything by the Spice Girls.
12. Also-also, if you are a generously proportioned male who has reached your majority, it is almost certainly a bad idea to select material written for a 10-year old girl, no matter how much you identify with her.
13. Please remember that we cannot in fact hear the CD you’ve been singing along to while you practice, nor the voices in your head singing back up, and choose your vocal arrangement accordingly.
14. When putting together your ensemble, remember, those white jeans aren’t going to make you look any thinner on camera than they do in that mirror.
15. Check for camel-toe.
16. In a well-lit room.
17. Check again.
18. If at the outset you perceive your career options as Pop Superstar or Cosmetologist, go with Cosmetologist.
19. If, however, your idea of a smokin’-hot outfit is a rugby shirt and white jeans barely able to accommodate a Carl’s Jr. receipt, think very seriously about a third option—like plant care, or lithium.
20. If you are given the boot, for the love of God, remember that tape is forever.

xxx
c

TOPICS: celebrity, List-o-rama!, lists, schadenfreude, Television, TV.

In the theater world, the last week of rehearsals before a show goes up is affectionately known as “Hell Week.”

The 99¢-show sports an unusual Hell Week because a holiday is wedged in there; in honor of that, the cast has been given an entire two days—both Wednesday and Thursday—off before final dress rehearsal on Friday. So in my capacity as Chief Stilt-Walker, I have been given a two-day respite to let those newly-developed leg muscles rest.

Of course, in my capacity as graphic designer, I am forced to rest aforementioned muscles next to the old G5, which does not allow for much in the way of elevation.

But I digress.

While this is an unusal Hell Week in that it’s slightly less—well…hellish, there are still certain die-hard traits that all Hell Weeks share. To wit…

1. You can neither remember the last day you went to the gym nor anticipate the next time you will see the inside of it.
2. You find yourself actually drifting off to sleep atop the stilts you just learned to walk on two days ago.
3. Instead of being outraged that the 7-11 is charging you 2 bucks for an
   airline-sized bag of cashews, you are filled with a Thanksgiving-level
   of gratitude that they accept Visa because you have not had time to go
   to the ATM in two weeks. And buy two bags.
4. Bourbon and cashews at midnight is dinner.
5. Bourbon and cashews at midnight is the most delicious and appropriate dinner you can imagine.
6. You can neither remember the last time you washed your hair nor anticipate the next time you will be able to do so.
7. You try to drive your car in “park.”
8. Your kitchen floor is covered in hair.
9. This seems like no good reason to not eat the veggie burger you dropped there.
10. Your sexual fantasies start revolving around long hot baths with a fluffy magazine, followed by a mug of peppermint tea and a DVD in bed. Solo.

Time to get crackin’ on those t-shirt designs. See you at the show, kids!

xxx
c

TOPICS: 99-cent show, hell week, List-o-rama!, lists, rehearsals.

Since my brush with death (well, okay—my brush with losing my colon) and subsequent epiphany two years ago, I’m a pretty happy gal 99.99% of the time. No lie.

I have not, however, reached that zen-like state of peace wherein the joy with which I greet each morning stays unflaggingly through a Day of Horror.

There are many things that bring me joy, but many of them require time (Caddyshack, trip to New York), money (shopping, trip to New York), or serendipity (random compliments, first date that blows your doors off, seeing that asshat Expedition get pulled over 1/2 mile down the I-10 for blowing through the on-ramp light in the carpool lane).

Plus, sometimes I’m not really even looking for joy. Sometimes, not-funk will do me just fine.

Also, making lists is one of those things that makes me happy. Heck, even reading other people’s lists makes me happy.

So here are five things I’ve discovered that not only will shake your funk, but will often leave your home looking better, cleaner and more organized than before. The hawk-eyed will note a repetitive quality to most of the items. That’s because these are really meditations in disguise. There’s a monkey-work thing to occupy the chattery part of your brain so the real you can re-calibrate and get some goddam (mental) peace and quiet. As my first shrink/astrologer liked to say, meditation doesn’t have to mean parking your ass on a cushion.

Five Ways to Shake Your Funk, Domestic-Goddess Style

1. Wash all* your dishes. By hand.
2. Scrub your tile grout with bleach** and a toothbrush.
3. Iron your sheets***.
4. Shampoo your wall-to-wall carpet…with a hand-held spot cleaner.
5. Sew something. Curtains seems to work the best, since they have long seams. (NOTE: Do not sew curtains made from burlap with a chiffon
   backing, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.)

xxx
c

*This works really well because generally, the dishes have piled up in direct proportion to the size of the funk.

**Actually, I use all-purpose cleaner with bleach, but go ahead and be as environmentally conscious—or not—as you want. Mother Earth will do better with your head screwed on right.

***Only works with all-cotton sheets. If you dig percale, substitute window-washing or vertical-blind cleaning. And never iron dirty sheets! Ew! Stinky!

TOPICS: change, happiness, List-o-rama!, lists, meditation, self-improvement.

Wherefore, this compulsion to make lists?

I wish I could say it was purely motivated by my lifelong, Virgo-esque pursuit of efficiency, but that thesis was shattered when I found that I derived exactly as much joy in composing a “have done” list as I did a “to do” list.

It’s got something to do with order, alright (pun intended); the more chaotic and random life seems, the greater my desire to exert some measure of control. Here are the steps I’m going to take to ensure that: (a) I buy my house before I’m too old to tend the garden I want surrounding it; (b) my cupboards don’t have three more jars of duplicate condiments moldering away in them; (c) I have clean underwear next week.

But clearly, the truth goes deeper than that. Because at some point, I can no longer resist the urge to tell the world—or the person next to me—or hell, myself, for that matter, that these are: (1) the best cover songs ever written, (2) my favorite 20 movies, (3) the blogs I think are worth visiting.

And what—or who—is left off: (i.) the best- or worst-dressed lists; (ii) the bazillion incarnations of red or blue lists; (iii) the most-viewed TV shows of last night lists; is as telling as who—or what—makes it on.

For me, lists are a way of getting at the truth, albeit in code. I have an intention to buy a house, therefore I make a list. I have fascination with cover songs, movies and the Internet, so I make a list. I don’t have enough time (or courage) to write essays declaring my love, so I make lists.

Of course, I’m not alone in rockin’ the list. Lists must be inherently fascinating to most humans or they wouldn’t have such a presence on late-night talk shows, Apple’s fascistic music delivery system and people’s personal websites.

Which reminds me…

To do:

1. make list of lists I want to make
2. code lists with links
3. upload to blog

xxx
c

TOPICS: communicatrix, creativity, List-o-rama!, lists, meta, organizing, productivity, self-development.