The Diary of a Wimpy American Idol Loser.

This is me.

Sunday June 12, 2010 4:30 AM:

Dear Diary,

It's 4:30 in the morning and I am standing in a line full of total wannabe DORKS!  Officially, I am number 2,572 but I know I am going to be number one in the hearts of those judges.

My secret plan is in full effect. I'm wearing my Lady Liberty costume, I've got my voice coach with me (Stefan) and I've eaten tons of that Jamie Lee Curtis yogurt to make me as regular as humanly possible. Nothing stands in my way between myself and becoming the next American Idol!  - - Except of course the 2, 571 dill-wad, voice-cracklers in line in front of me.

Sunday, June 12, 2010 4:37 AM:

Dear Diary,

Some important looking dudes just came out with megaphones and started yelling at everyone.  I was in the middle of doing my G scales, so I was a little PRETURD by the whole scene.  Some punk kid behind me pushed me in the back and told me to "Shut my Liberty-Loving Mouth!'  Apparently, he couldn't hear the instructions over the beauty that is my voice or something.

I'm starting to think I may have eaten too much yogurt.

Sunday, June 12, 2010 6:30 AM:

I'm the one with the good voice here.

Dear Diary,

We just saw Randy drive up.  There was a huge cheer from the audience, but I didn't yell.  Gotta save that voice for when it matters most.  The guys with the megaphones came out again and informed us that there are like TWELVE rounds of judges before we even get to SEE Steven Tyler!  That's so bogus, but I am not worried at all because with these looks and this voice, I'd go through five hundred levels of judges, no problem.

I really have to use the bathroom, but rumor has it that if I move, I lose my place in line.  That punk kid behind me said there was no way he was saving my spot. I sang an extra loud G scale IN HIS FACE!

Sunday, June 12, 2010 8:30 AM: 

Dear Diary,

It's official.  All that yogurt was a BAD IDEA!  Fortunately, the line has started to move, which is great because I have been warming my voice up for over four hours now.  Great news!  Some cameraman was taken by my kick-butt costume and actually asked to interview me!  I told him about how my mom told me I wouldn't amount to anything in life and then left our carnival to work with the circus.  I told him about how the Carnies raised me and my brothers and how I'm singing for my brother, Jimmy, who had a foot chopped off by a mis-aligned Carousel seat.

I even sang a couple lines of "That's What Friends Are For" for him.  I think he was impressed too because he brought his buddy over and said, "Number 2,572 George.  Write it down. 2572"  I'm number 2,572!  I must have made quite the impression.

Sunday, June 12, 10:30 AM:

Dear Diary,

I just passed the first round of table of judges and it could not... have... gone... better! One of the judges couldn't even look at me, I was that impfestive.  Another just looked straight down at her notepad and nodded her head to the tune I was creating with my God-given voice.  When I was done, they told me that I had been one of the most entertaining acts of the day.  I even heard the girl whisper to the others, "He's terrific. We should just send this one straight through to JLo."

I am thinking of switching things up and singing "The Final Countdown" for my next audition desk.
 (Also, I pooped a little in my pants, but we will keep that between you and I, Diary.)

Sunday, June 12, 1:00 PM: 

Dear Diary,

My voice coach has been massaging my shoulders to keep me loose.  The weirdos around us in line got all grossed out when he started putting Vaseline on my chest.  But he says it helps to loosen up the diaphragm.  I think they were grossed out by all the moaning too, but GET OVER IT PEOPLE!  This is A.I. and a mans gottado whata mans gotta do, if you know what I mean.  If they don't want to take this seriously, I think they are doing auditions for "America's Got Talent" across the street.

That camera man came back and guess what??? They are taking me straight to Jennifer, Randy and Steven!  They even said I could use the bathroom on the way!  This is the biggest moment of my adult life; well, aside from that time in the carnival that I rescued that poor kid from the top of the collapsing potato sack slide.

My mom is going to be sorry she ever left us!

Sunday, June 12, 1:30 PM: 

Actual size

Dear Diary,

I feel much better now that I was able to use the restroom, but I fear I still have a restijual stank to my pants. Those losers in line kept complaining about it.  No worries though.  Fortunately, the sweetness that will come out of my mouth will far outweigh any stench that steams from my pants.

I was just interviewed by RYAN SEACREST!  He was so little.  Like an adult Cabbage Patch doll.  I bet that's why that hot dancing chick likes him - because she likes to pinch his cheeks and dress him in adorable clothes.

I am just MOMENTS away from my BIG BREAK!  Fingers crossed. (The fingers I have left after the last carny accident.)

Sunday, June 12, 1:32 PM:


Dear @#^$ Diary,

This is BULL!  Total bull.  It could not have gone WORSE.

First of all, all three of those dumb judges said I stunk like "rotten potato salad in the bottom of a hamster cage" when I came in.  I told them about the yogurt.  In retrospectation, that probably was not a wise thing to bring up.  Randy was already giggling.  I hate that guy.

Think where that finger has been!

Then JLo starts in on my outfit.  EXCUSE ME, JLO!  Look who's talking!  It's you... and you have to order special pants just to cover your enormous BEHIND!

Finally, I start singing.  I chose Wilson Phillips' "Hold On For One More Day." I thought it was a perfect because I once had a bowl-cut like Phillips and I had had my stomach stapled like Wilson. And then I dedicated it to my deadbeat mom.  I dedicated it to heartless heart and her brainless brain.

Randy didn't even look at me.  Just hid his stupid face behind his stupid clip board and laughed at me.  Laughed at me like the Hoof-Handed Woman in the freak-show tent used to.  Laughed at me like the Bearded Woman would when I would put my finger in the deep fryer.

Back to the Carny for me.

When I was done, Steven had the ardASSity to tell me that singing "just isn't your thing"!  Hey bum-hole, I've got a voice coach out in the hall with a bottle of Vaseline that says otherwise. Moron.

Anyway Diary, it was painful.  But I do hope my mom was watching at her circus cause it's gonna sting her a lot more than it stung me.  I might be going back to my job running the Scrambler and my voice coach will go back to making cotton candy, but at least mom will know I made something of my life.

At least mom will know...