Remember very early on in this blog when I was complaining about other blogs that were supposed to be about cancer but instead were nothing but ramblings about American Idol? I've become one of Them. Sometimes cancer simply must take a back seat to the more important things we have to worry about, such as WHAT IS GOING ON WITH CLAY AIKEN'S HAIR?
For the love of God, man, fire your stylist! It's hideous!
Clay's new hairdo has been bothering me since last night. I really love Clay. I have his CD and his Christmas CD. There, I said it. You can't make fun of me, either. I have cancer.
Anyway, last night's finale seemed even longer and more painful than being in labor with WCB. Just when you think you couldn't be any more bored (How long can a salute to Burt Bacharach possibly go on??), somebody says, "Ladies and gentlemen, Dionne Warwick!" and your soul starts to die a little.
I am happy that Taylor won and beat out that Rainbow-mangling hack, but I still don't think he's bright, Steve. Soul patrol!