Am I sad enough to admit that I love Australian Idol?
yes... yes I am
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I greet you all tonight with a sheepish grin and some self-conscious sideways glances. I can't say I'm proud, but at least I admit it. I love Australian Idol.
It's like those days at school when you would whisper furtively to your best friend behind the toilet blocks the name of the boy you secretly had a crush on. Of course she would "cross her heart, hope to die, stick a needle in her eye" that she wouldn't tell anyone but somehow the secret would get out and then the whole grade would be chanting how you and your dream boy were sitting in a tree doing things unspeakable (or even just k-i-s-s-i-n-g). Now it's the whole world, or at least the readership of this humble slice of electronic space chanting "Tegan loves Australian Idol, Tegan loves Australian Idol!"
But I do! I love it! Dicko's snide comments, Marcia's pitying gazes, even Mark's unfathomable idiocy. The performances so embarrassing you bite your lip to stop from laughing even though the hopeless performer is thousands of kilometres away and the performance is months past. Then the fantastic performers, the voices almost too good to be true, and the musical genius that a noble few out there posess. Most of all I love the hosts (especially James Mathison, who I have a weird crush-hate relationship with which I am considering seeking counselling for) more for their off-the-cuff quips and boyish antics than the scripted repartee they are obliged to quote but I am willing to forgive them for.
So there you have it. I'm out of the closet, and a timely coming-out it is, considering the second season of Australian Idol started again tonight. (yes, you guessed it, this blog was at least partially inspired by the show that just ended) Readers are warned to be prepared for future blogs alluding to Australian Idol episodes, especially on those nights I forget to take my anti-loser meds.
Am I not pretty enough,
Teegs
It's like those days at school when you would whisper furtively to your best friend behind the toilet blocks the name of the boy you secretly had a crush on. Of course she would "cross her heart, hope to die, stick a needle in her eye" that she wouldn't tell anyone but somehow the secret would get out and then the whole grade would be chanting how you and your dream boy were sitting in a tree doing things unspeakable (or even just k-i-s-s-i-n-g). Now it's the whole world, or at least the readership of this humble slice of electronic space chanting "Tegan loves Australian Idol, Tegan loves Australian Idol!"
But I do! I love it! Dicko's snide comments, Marcia's pitying gazes, even Mark's unfathomable idiocy. The performances so embarrassing you bite your lip to stop from laughing even though the hopeless performer is thousands of kilometres away and the performance is months past. Then the fantastic performers, the voices almost too good to be true, and the musical genius that a noble few out there posess. Most of all I love the hosts (especially James Mathison, who I have a weird crush-hate relationship with which I am considering seeking counselling for) more for their off-the-cuff quips and boyish antics than the scripted repartee they are obliged to quote but I am willing to forgive them for.
So there you have it. I'm out of the closet, and a timely coming-out it is, considering the second season of Australian Idol started again tonight. (yes, you guessed it, this blog was at least partially inspired by the show that just ended) Readers are warned to be prepared for future blogs alluding to Australian Idol episodes, especially on those nights I forget to take my anti-loser meds.
Am I not pretty enough,
Teegs
