2006-06-11

I thought that this would be my super-productive summer. I mean, all my shows are in reruns. I should be spouting productivity out of every orifice. What have I done. Found Youtube. I have now rewatched every episode of The Office (and the ones I missed) and saved the links. I have seen every Southpark I can get without resorting to actually downloading one of those torrent things (whatever they do). And I've read backed up Ebert reviews. I find new and exciting ways to entertain myself and put off anything that may result in advancing my position in life.

Anyway, back to the finale...

Bobby and I had exited the theater. I ran off to smoke. Upon finishing my cigarette, I just couldn't find Bobby. This was a problem as I had his phone in my purse and wouldn't be able to contact him at all. I wandered the... big courtyard? Whatever it's called, I wandered it.

I talked to some people who recognized me and tried, again, to justify the fact that I went up the wrong escalator and, hopefully, left them with the impression that I'm not a mental patient. But who can say, really? In person, I'm a bit on the hyperactive side and tend to babble. And the fact that I was craning my neck, eyes darting here and there (looking for Bobby), probably didn't better the impression.

Anyway, finding myself outside the queue of people surrounding the people getting interviewed wasn't helping. As it was possible Bobby was getting interviewed and the security people had probably heard my claims that I was with one of those people a million times. But finally, just as I'd given up hope, Bobby comes out of the crowd and grabs my hand (doing his best impersonation of a parent who'd lost their kid and had just had it up to the proverbial here) and pulls me with him into this little pen where some of the contestants' family are waiting.

Three generations of Pickler men (grandfather, father, and kid) were all garbed adorably in identical suits with pink ties. If I'd got to be a finalist, you can forget any Walshes wearing matching suits. My father would be hard pressed to take off his Ace Worldwide hat. Anyway, Bobby and I wait and talk and mingle and a few more people recognize us and we chat with them and... yeah. Just waiting and chatting and not much else. Except for me periodically giving myself whiplash in order to gaze on how hot that tall Ryan Young is. That family really did win the genetic lottery. My family? They all... get really drunk at weddings (or anything with an open bar-- as we'll see by my behavior). Well, everyone has their blessings.

I talk to Mandisa's mother for a sec and congratulate her on how poised her daughter was throughout the competition. I remember, the morning of THE CHAIR, I was bouncing off the walls while Mandisa sedately applied makeup and assured me that whatever God had planned would happen. For me, God planned I'd spend that particular day jonesing for a cigarette but so scared the cameras would catch me that I hardly dared... any more than ten times.

Anyway, Bobby and I wait there for a bit. To this moment, I don't know why. It's probably just until the party starts and because those waiting there will be escorted up with guards because... yeah. I don't know why.

At any rate, we do chat with Lisa and Kevin and Mandisa as they come by. Everyone seems pretty much the same as they did when they started. The big difference is the people screaming their names. One nice tidbit I did find out: The girls all get to keep the jewelry and dresses they wore for the show. If I'd known this I may have tried a bit harder.

To be honest, throughout the competition, I was afraid of getting more involved. I mean, then I'd be that girl that was on Idol and no one would take me seriously. Yeah. I got off lucky. I'm that girl that tripped up the escalator. And... nobody takes me seriously. Wait a sec...

Soon, it was time to go in to that party that was just upstairs at... this place I can't remember the name of. Was it called The Highlands?

Like anyone's going to answer.

Once we get in, Bobby and I separate to mingle. The first people I want to see are those dishing out the buffet. I have some shrimp and asparagus. I think of getting more, then I see the dessert table. In my family, we save room for dessert. I wolf the small bits on my plate and decide that's my next stop.

On the way to my next stop (three feet away), I talk to Clay impressionist Michael Sandecki and that Sabrina girl that Simon said should be on "Jerry Spring-ger." They were both flown out. I see Vonzell Solomon and wish I were a tiny thing that could get away with wearing white. I find out that the bar is... open? I hadn't thought that would happen. I immediately search for Bobby so I can ask him the question now burning my brain: Does he feel comfortable driving back?

He Does!

Whee!!!!

I'm frugal. I decide to pick the one thing I know would cost ten bucks a glass if I was buying. Chardonnay. Of course, I wasn't thinking of the fact that Chardonnay also gives a girl the worst hang-overs. And it also sneaks up on you and suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks, leaving you dizzy, disoriented and shoeless.

No, folks. I wasn't thinking. At all. And this would be my state for the rest of the night.

The night that I will continue... some other night.