Bowing down to 'Idol' can be a serious addiction

"I can stop anytime I want," I told my husband as he rolled his eyes and moseyed into the next room to read a book. "I'm not addicted. I have this under control."

Who was I kidding?

The evidence of an addiction was all around me - the TV remote and my well-worn blanket at my side, the notebook and pen ready to write down my favorites; the telephone within arm's reach to call in votes. I was jonesing for popcorn.

It was 7 p.m. on Tuesday night and I had only one thing on my mind: "American Idol." I've given my life over to the popular televised singing competition and doubt that anything short of an intervention by friends and family could wrest me away from my favorite show.

The seduction began innocently enough in summer 2002 when the first season of "American Idol" began. My kids began watching it, then coaxed me to watch it with them. It didn't take long before I was sucked into the Idol vortex and wasn't coming out until the winning contestant was chosen.

I've been faithful, watching all of the winners triumph, from Kelly Clarkson to Jordan Sparks. I stuck by Taylor Hicks, even though my kids called him a geezer because at the tender age of 29 he already was prematurely gray.

I've listened to every searing comment from the judges - cool dude Randy Jackson: "Dog, it was a little pitchy at first, but you worked it out;" seemingly clueless Paula Abdul: "You're glorious and you look so pretty;" and the snide Simon Cowell: "That was absolutely horrible, sorry."

Every year I vow to steer clear of the TV as the Idol auditions begin and they televise some of the weirdest, most ghastly singers you can imagine. Some years I'm able to avoid most of the early audition shows, but once the top 10 have been seated, I'm there.

Almost as much fun as watching the weekly show are the watercooler discussions the next morning, when we rake contestants over the proverbial coals.

"Syesha sounded like second-class Whitney [Houston] karaoke," a fellow reporter scoffed this week, describing Syesha Mercado's rendition of "I'll Always Love You."

"Yeah," I agreed. "She should know Whitney songs are just off-limits. And Syesha is starting to get a little attitude."

We fawn over rocker David Cook (he could win it all) and the bluesy Australian, Michael Johns, and agree that although 17-year-old David Archuleta is a bit of a "cheeser," he has an amazing voice.

As my addiction has progressed, I've begun checking the "American Idol" blogs for further critiques and I love their blunt honesty. This week the remaining nine contestants had to sing songs written by country icon Dolly Parton, and blogger James Poniewozik has this to say about the sunny Brooke White, whom we all agree is just a bit too cheery for her own good. White sang the classic Parton tune, "Jolene."

"Her voice sounds tight and she seems a bit tense and rushed on the first verse or so," Poniewozik observed in his blog. "…One problem: the classic Idol disease, smiley-itis. You're pleading with her not to take your man, not asking her if she wants to get an Orange Julius."

I checked the "American Idol" Web site this week and found out fans now can order "Chicken Soup for the American Idol Soul." For $10.95 you get a collection of captivating stories that "take you into the hearts and minds" of the Idols and their fans. A co-worker, who's not an Idol fan, suggested she may have to shun me if I ordered the "contrite meaningless crap" she calls Chicken Soup books.

I'm having too much fun with my "American Idol" addiction to consider quitting. Who am I hurting? Sure, the dishes don't get done on time and the yard work suffers when I'm holed up watching Idol (summer is well under way by the time the winner is picked). As far as reality shows go, I could do a lot worse.

So pass the popcorn and leave me alone. I want to hear every "pitchy" note.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com