Friday, May 19, 2006

Had a Bad Day. Where's My Video?

Sorry! I haven't had time to write about what Elliott Yamin means to me but will try again tomorrow. I apologize for not linking to all the fabulous articles and interviews yet.

Family health issues have kept me from sleeping, writing or attending to my blog much in the 48 hours since Elliott was eliminated. Nothing life-threatening, just time-consuming.

Tonight I finally sat down to compose my thoughts about Elliott. I felt emotionally sturdy enough – or numb from lack of sleep – to watch his homecoming video again without blubbering. Before I taped Wednesday's results show, my DVR allocation was nearly maxed out. I have stored every top 24 American Idol episode featuring an Elliott performance, including his Wednesday night singouts. Yes, I have been on board the E-Train since it left the station.

To make room, I chose to delete top 16 week when he performed Bryan Adams' Heaven – my least favorite of his song selections. If you read AI5 Royal Flush: The Heir and Four Spares, you already know how I feel about Adams.

Computer downloads are a godsend, but I prefer to watch Elliott on our widescreen TV. My son hadn't seen this week's carmercial and we all shared a hearty laugh at Elliott's grandpa rapper as we rewound it for repeat viewings.

Then I fast-forwarded through Taylor Hicks' video and performance. Near the end of Kat McPhee's, the recording stopped. Dead – 35 minutes into the show. Yaminions, another reason to hate her. No Richmond rally, no parade, no first pitch, no Moody's Mood for Love, no elimination drama, no gracious goodbye.

Just me and buckets of fresh tears.

While checking online for a high quality download that won't unleash the hounds of spyware hell on my aging laptop, I read that AI5 tour tickets became available at 10:00am this morning. I thought the August 27th stop at the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim went on sale Sunday. Oh, these are special Pop Tarts presale tickets – and, ten hours later, the best are gobbled up.

Quick – what is the cutoff age for temper tantrums? The terrible thirties? Screwed again.

There's an unopened pint of coffee Häagen-Dazs in the freezer and I. Don't. Care.

Tomorrow has to be a better day. Good night, all.