True Confessions of an American Idol Addict

This is humiliating, but I think it's time I come out of the closet.

I' m one of those people who counts down the seconds until Ryan Seacrest prances to center stage and says "This is American Idol!!!!"

I haven't always been this nutty. In fact, I ignored the first season.

When season two rolled around, I think I must have been bored or something-- maybe that was around the same time NBC started fizzling with too many Law and Order reruns (love the shows, but I've seen them all already!).

One night I watched and liked this nerdy kid named Clay who seemed straight out of a confused rendition of "The Wizard of Oz" where Dorothy's cousin Theodore kicks her off the rainbow and jazz walks down the yellow brick road with his mysterious ani"male" counter parts.

What can I say? I was hooked.

Until last year, I remained in the closet with the doors tightly padlocked and sounds turned down low (though when my husband intercepted my copy of Clay Aiken's "Bridge Over Troubled Waters," I definitely thought the news had jumped with Toto out of the basket).

This year I can't hold back.

It all starts Wednesday nights after the results show. I tuck the kids into bed and jump over the cat as I race to my computer. It's time to predict who's gonna sing what and to read reviews and snarky blogs.

Thursday morning I call my mom to re discuss how I thought the vote went, down load my favorite songs and then read more idol predictions.

I swear the clock tick-tocks in a sorted water torture as I wait for the next Idol. I need help. I need an Idol support group, but the truth is if I found others like me, I think we'd just feed each other's nonsense.
By Monday I'm worse than a non-snooping five-year-old waiting for Christmas.I consult the Magic Eight Ball, DialIdol, sports betting sites and every poll imaginable, wondering is he gonna be safe, what's he gonna sing.
By Tuesday evening I'm hooked up with a live Idol Blog where I can read about how the performances via bloggers from the Eastern and Central Mountain Time Zones. Of course, I'm also listening to it live because I have to talk to my mother who lives in Texas as she watches it.

"Did you hear that!" my mother screams.
"Not really," I said.
"Let me get closer to the TV because that was fabulous!" she screams into my ear. I hear fuzzy stuff on the other end-- static, a high pitched dog call????
"Oh Bonnie you have got to watch this-- I'm definitely downloading that one!" my mother teases. "How long do you think it will be before it's on You Tube"

"I don't know," I say.

"Go check. You need to tell me what you think," she said.

Twenty minutes later I've located a video of our favorite Adam Lambert.

My mom stays on the phone as I skim reviews of the show and read her the juicy parts.

"You're still going to watch the show because you really need to see this," she said.
"Yes," i said.
"Well don't call. It comes on too late," my mother said.
I watch. I read reviews. I wish I had hosted a party for the viewing. I worry over who's going home. I look over DialIdol.

The next day I listen to the results show as it airs at my mother's house two hours earlier.

This year my mother and i have decided to step up out Idolatry by going to one of the concerts.
"If we do it, we have to commit," I said. "We've got to meet the bus and make a sign."
"Absolutely," my mom said. "Where should we meet-- Texas or California?"

"There are going to be seven shows in California-- let's hit them all," I said.
"You know Utah and Oregon aren't too far away either," my mom said.
"Good point."