I won't lie. I loved the first season of American Idol with the fire of a thousand flaming R.J. Heltons. I loved everything about the show: Ryan Starr's shred-wear, EJay's demonic jaw, Jim's deaf parents, and of course the loveableness of Kelleeeeeeeeeee. When the first season ended, I was sad. There was a little hole in my heart, not to mention my TV viewing schedule, that had to be filled. So of course I was overjoyed when I found out that the show would be coming back for a second season. I'd get to see more Randy, Pau....er...and Simon!
But I couldn't understand who would put themselves through the humiliation of auditioning for a show that had made its name by demeaning people horribly and offensively, week after week. Millions of people had watched the first season of American Idol. Thanks to that, I'm sure Anakin Boogie and Levi Blue could no longer go out in public without being gawked at. What was life like for Stephanie Sugarman at her cheese job? I'm sure she already got weird looks before the whole AI process, but after everyone saw her on AI, did she have to be institutionalized? And what about Ta-MEE-Ka -- do people overenunciate her name wherever she goes just to make sure they're not told to kiss her "natural-born black ass"? Taking all of this into consideration, who in their right mind would actually audition for the slim chance that they might be degraded on national television by Simon Cowell?
Did I mention that I've never been in my right mind? It's true: I wanted the glory, I envied the easy fame, I wanted to be worshipped on the forums like Amnesia Sparkles and Stoned Silent Night Guy. The only thing that was keeping me from the auditions was the fact that I had just moved down to Miami. I'd also promised my friend Sarah that I would go visit her in Nashville, and that trip was going to go right over the Miami auditions...but it happened to be at the same time as the Nashville auditions. Did I actually want to throw away time I could be spending with one of my closest friends in the whole wide world? Of course not! That's why I had to talk her into auditioning too! Instant quality time!
With this in mind, I arrived in Nashville two days before the auditions. Sar and I had been spending our time getting ready for them as if it were a life-or-death situation. On the day we were going to go camp out for the auditions, we went to Opry Mills Mall to shop for any extra audition accessories we might need, like leather chokers. No gay boy on a music-based reality TV show is complete without one. As we walked through the mall that day, we spotted one of those big record-it-yourself karaoke booths. Since we have absolutely no shame...I mean, "since we had plenty of time to kill before leaving," Sar and went up and started browsing through the song selections, and were horribly disappointed when they didn't have "Something Stupid." While standing there, we overheard two girls talking about the upcoming auditions. We were longing to feel special and make AI buddies, so we struck up a conversation.
They were from Virginia. One of them was named April, and she was engaged. Even though she had a gorgeous voice, my eyes kept focusing on the big-ass engagement rock she had on her finger. April had driven there for the auditions with her friend Rachael, who also had a gorgeous voice but no big rock to speak of. They were friendly and cool, so we chatted for a couple of minutes before another boy, who was also auditioning, with funny hair and big bug eyes came up and started talking to us, too. It turns out his name was Matt "I Desperately Need A Stage Name" Yoder. He was there with his friend Leonda, a poor creature that looked like a twelve-year-old boy from a Third World nation with added rows of teeth. The six of us sat around chatting until we decided that Matt, Leonda, Sar, and I would go to the Nashville Municipal Auditorium, where the first round of auditions was being held, and meet April and Rachel there. It was around eight o'clock, and we figured that if we got to the auditorium around midnight, we'd be good. We left the mall and headed over to Matt and Leonda's hotel so they could pick up their much-needed fixer-uppers. Then we all headed to my hotel room, where we all proceeded to shower and change into our audition gear.
I decided to make myself look like a man-whore, so I pulled out the tightest sweater I'd brought with me and a pair of dark jeans. Sar put on a shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Leonda tried to do the same, but unfortunately for her, there really wasn't much to imagine. Matt wore this hideous oversize sweater and slacks combo that just hung off his skinny frame. It was during this period when we first got to hear Matt "sing."
It was scary; it was horrifying, and as Sar put it afterwards, it sounded like a dying bird. If you had heard his rendition of "Kokomo," you'd wanna be on the first plane to the Arctic. To me it sounded more like mumbling, and when he tried to go high? HA! But we'll talk more about Matt and his "singing" later.
Finally all dolled up with somewhere to go, we headed to the auditorium. After getting lost a couple of times due to one-way streets, we got there and drove by a couple of times to survey the situation. There were only four tents outside on the lawn, so we were all excited, thinking we were going to totally beat the crowd. After going through the ordeal of finding parking, we walked up the long flight of stairs to the other side of the auditorium and walked into...Woodstock! Ack! It was a sea of tents and sleeping bags, and some people were even smart and brought space heaters.
We migrated to the end of the line, set our stuff down, and began looking around. The girl in front of us (Jennifer) had hair to give Justin Guarini a run for his money. She was big, loud, and absolutely fabulous. Eventually April and Rachel joined us just as people were walking around writing numbers on other people's hands, to keep people from skipping to the front of the line! Cheaters! I got the number "1017" written on me and a stamp put on the inside of my arm to validate the number. I began to get worried and started thinking it was hopeless. I wanted to go back to the hotel to a nice warm bed, because it was freezing outside. My sweater wasn't very thick, and there were no gay guys around to keep me warm.
Okay, scratch that -- there were no hot gay guys to keep me warm. I don't think there was a drop of testosterone anywhere in that line.
Now, for the sake of storytelling progression, we're going to visit our friend the time tag, just 'cause it'll keep me from rambling.
Thursday Morning
12:00 AM. It's cold, and the line to the bathroom is longer than the line to marry Omar G.
12:05. I give up and decide I might as well stand in line before I wet myself, even though at the moment the added warmth really wouldn't hurt.
12:30. I finally get into the bathroom and step back in horror as I see guys in there plucking their eyebrows, putting on face masks…this one dude was shaving his chest...I hope he got someone to do his back, too.
12:33. I leave the bathroom and walk outside to see a guy walking around dressed like the weird guy from the Slim Jim commercials.
12:45. After arguing and deciding that we need blankets and food, Sar, Rachael, April, and Leonda all run to the hotel to get some blankets and swing by Taco Bell for a healthy gourmet late-night dinner. They leave me alone with Matt "Don't Play That Song For Me" Yoder. A girl in a big fur coat walks by like she's the mother diva. She's so gonna make it.
1:15. I start wondering where the hell my food is and getting highly annoyed by this large group of tone-deaf idiots "singing" classic hits like: "A B C," "Old McDonald," and the theme from The Jeffersons.
1:20. I want my food more than ever now. To distract myself, I join the steady chant of "shut up" towards the Tone Def Posse that has erupted all around the line. Fur Coat Girl walks by again.
1:30. I call Sar to find out where the hell my food is, and they're just getting to the Taco Bell. I groan.
1:32. Another group of singers has gathered on the opposite side of the Tone Def Posse. They chant Ludacris's "Move Bitch." This I highly enjoy.
1:35. I call again to see where my food is. I begin to think I should have asked Fur Coat Girl to get my food, since she's walking by again and seems to be pretty fast in her commutes.
1:40. People from the show start walking around handing out release forms. I was smart enough to print mine out and have it ready and filled out. Not that it helped any -- I was still number 1017.
2:00. The food finally gets there, and I don't think I've ever been as happy to taste processed undercooked meat.
2:15. We all finish eating and throw blankets down on the ground to go to sleep for a bit. I make sure I position myself just right as to not mess up my hair. It can be done!
2:30. I can't get to sleep, it's freezing, the pavement is hard, and I'm starting to get cranky. This is a completely new experience for me, since in my opinion camping is staying in a hotel where they don't charge you if you take the bathrobe. Fur Coat Girl storms past again like a neo-Cruella DeVil. I briefly consider knocking her down and taking her coat from her.
4:30. Well, I'll be damned -- I fell asleep only to be woken up by stupid local news film crews walking around shoving mics in peoples faces and forcing them to sing. Of course, there are tons of attention whores lining up. I decide they're too annoying to live, and if they come up to me I'll shove the mic where the sun don't shine and -- oh, who the hell am I trying to kid? I get up and stand around nonchalantly, hoping they'll pick me, too.
5:15. I awake to someone shaking me, and when I pull my head out from under the blanket, I think I'm looking at Jack Skellington. Then I realize it's just Leonda telling me that they're about to start handing out the infamous audition wristbands.
7:00. It's even colder now. People are grumpier, and I still don't have a wristband even though some of the people further up in the line already have theirs, which means they have to audition that morning.
8:00. I finally get a wristband, but it's green, which means that I don't audition for the producers 'til the day. We're told to keep our wristbands on, because they're our ticket into the producers' auditions, and we can't get in without it. Now I have to try to pick out an outfit for the evening that matches the lime green color of the wristband. We gather up our stuff in a hurry and run back to the car. On our way down the steps, we take our time to laugh at the people who have to audition that morning, since most of them have bedhead and big bags under their eyes.
9:00. I get back to the hotel and jump in the bath and soak. When I get out, I turn the heater all the way up and curl up in bed. Fame, fortune, really bad recording contract -- here I come.
Friday Morning
1:00 AM. Yup, we're up über-early again. We've barely had any sleep, but we all manage to re-look like superstars -- or as close as you can get on FOX. We meet Jennifer at a small café, where we sit for a while and drink, a lot.
3:00. After drinking, a lot, we head back to the auditorium; this time there really aren't that many people lined up, so we forgo getting in line and chill outside of Jennifer's friend's car singing "Devil Went Down To Georgia" annoyingly high and waking up all the other auditioners.
5:00. We finally decide to get in line, so we throw some blankets down again and try to do to the catnap thing. Again, Fur Coat Girl walks by...this time wearing a different one. Boy, if PETA could get a hold of her...
6:00. It's still freezing, and people are starting to wake up. Someone is trying to play a guitar in the distance, and it's royally pissing me off.
6:30. People from the show are walking around making sure everyone has a release form.
8:00. Yay! We're finally let into the building, which is good, because anymore outdoor time and I think I'm going to catch pneumonia. As we go in, there are people asking to see our wristbands and photo ID. Then they let us through to the room, where people take our release forms and give us numbered stickers that say "American Idol" on them. You know, like the ones you saw people wearing during Season One. I was "8002," which I didn't take as a very good sign. Especially when they inform us that everyone will be going in groups of five. The groups of five start at 5000. Yeah. They tell us we had a little time before we get briefed, so I run into the bathroom, and again there are tons of male divas-in-training getting themselves ready. I of course smartened up from the night before and wore three layers of clothes, so I peel these off and do my hair, wash my face, and stare in the mirror for approval. Then I walk out with a confident smile on my face and a little sashay in my hips. Inside the main part of the auditorium, which seems to be a basketball court, people are already sitting down in the stands. The place fills up pretty fast, and people eventually sit in groups on the floor.
Half an hour earlier, these people had been wearing snow jackets; now they look ready to audition for "Whore #2" in Spike Lee's joint.
9:10. Everyone's sitting now; my ass is numb. A man who I guess is one of the producers on the show walks up and starts talking to everyone. I can't remember his name -- I'm more than sure it was Nigel, but we'll call him Marky Gray because he looked like he could be Macy's brother. Anyway, Marky gets up and welcomes everyone and rambles about the success of the first season, about how he wants us to sing and not be afraid. He re-explains the group of five thing and tells us to look at the people in our group as a small family. I look over at the girl sitting to me and scoff. My mother would never wear that shade of purple.
Marky continues rambling about how great the staff is, and introduces Simon Fuller, who's the other executive producer aside from Simon Cowell. Marky continues his speech, which was so stale you could tell he'd said it a hundred times over, giving us the lowdown on how to make this fast and easy. Suddenly, out of the blue, someone yells that if it's so easy, [Marky] should sing for us. This gets a rise out of the crowd, and we start chanting for him to sing for us -- and he did! Which surprises the hell out of me, especially 'cause he has a pretty good voice. When he's done, he gets a standing ovation, and he deserves it; he sings better than half the people in the top ten last year -- Jim, I'm looking at you. After he says his thank-yous, he continues talking, blah blah blah motivation-cakes. When he finally shuts up, some other guy takes the mic from him and counts off the numbers: 5000, 5001, 5002, 5003, 5004, 5005. Damn.
11:00. After what seems like forever, they start getting up to the 7050s. And I start to get nervous. What am I gonna do? What if I blank? I'm already forgetting the words to my song. Sar, Matt, Leonda (who had viciously fried her hair with the curling iron the night before, but thought it looked cute), Jennifer, and I were all sitting around talking to people. One girl there with her dad did not seem to be happy to be surrounded by punk kids at all.
11:20. In some weird space-time thing, the closer they got to our numbers, the stupider we started getting. We started doing impressions of our favorite AI contestants. One girl goes as far as to rip her shirt and tie the ripped half around her neck to imitate Ryan Starr; she even gets the sulky voice going. She goes into the audition like that. Needless to say, she gets a callback.
11:45. Sar, Matt, Leonda, and Jennifer get called.
12:00 PM. My group is called! Something got thrown out of whack along the way, because my group is composed of 7999, 8000, 8001, 8002, and 8003. We walk to the other side of the auditorium and sit down. They take our wristbands from us and make sure our numbers are in place, then we're led by a creepy guy to the second floor of the auditorium. He asks us to wait with the other groups for our group to be called. From what I can see, people are being led behind big glass walls into a separate waiting room, and from there into Conference Rooms A, B, and C.
Once inside, the group of five goes in, gets friendly with the producers, and sings a little bit in order. If they're called back, they get a green slip inviting them to the round that Sunday at the Double Tree in downtown Nashville. Now I'm really nervous, since I'm not seeing a lot of green slips. When my group goes into the glass waiting room, I see Sarah, Jennifer, Leonda, and Matt sitting down, waiting. No one is allowed to talk to anyone outside of their group because it's "too much noise" that interferes with the people in the conference rooms. The walls are very thin; we can hear the people singing in the rooms, and in most cases that's a very, very bad thing. You'd think they would want us to make a lot of noise so no one could hear the slaughtering of art going on behind those doors.
12:10. A lady walks up to us with a clipboard and asks us our names, ages, where we're from, and what we'll be singing. We all give her our answers. I have decided to sing "Angels" by Robbie Williams, because it's easy, in my range, and I sound pretty damn good singing it...if I do say so myself.
12:15. A girl storms in through the glass doors with mascara streaks running down her face; her number reads 6056, so she's obviously auditioned already. From what I can pick up from her screaming, she got rejected and wanted to re-audition because she has eight brothers and sisters to feed. She's using the A.J. strategy -- smart girl.
12:30. Matt's group goes in. Fur Coat Girl is with him! For her sake, I'm starting to hope she has some matching ear muffs.
12:40. The door to the room Matt's group went into swings open. Fur Coat Girl is the first one to strut out, holding her green slip. Ha -- I called it! Matt is the last one to come out, also with a green slip. You guys ever watch anime, and when the character is shocked, he falls over with his leg bent at a really weird angle and his eyes turn into little number signs, in slow motion, about forty-eight times? That's me. That's when I realize that the moderately good people and the excruciatingly bad people are getting through. Sneaky producers. Sar's group goes in.
12:42. I hear the sound of nails scratching down a chalkboard; then I realize it's Leonda's singing. She's doing a horribly high-pitched version of Shakira's "Underneath Your Clothes." She barely gets to the chorus before we hear silence. The producers must have asked her to shut up; either that or someone's ears started bleeding and she did the courteous thing and shut up on her own.
12:45. Yay! I can hear Sarah singing. Now the thing about her is that she sings country -- she has a real country voice. So she's decided to sing "Let 'Er Rip" by the Dixie Chicks. She gets through a good part of the song, and then I hear her sing "The Star Spangled Banner," then "Fallin'" by Alicia Keys.
12:50. Sar's group comes out. Leonda is a mess of tears and Sar has no green slip. I suddenly lose all hope. We'd done this as a sisterhood thing, and now she's out and I'm discouraged, but I can't back out, so I go in with my group. The room is pretty simple; there's a table where the three producers are sitting, a Hottie McHot sitting to the left operating the video camera, then in the center is this other important-looking guy named John, and to his right is a pretty older lady typing away on a laptop. There are five lines made out of duct tape to the left of the table, with one directly in front of it. They explain to us that we're all gonna go in order -- introduce ourselves and our song, and sing. I feel sick to my stomach.
The first girl in my group goes; she's a very trendy-looking African-American girl wearing a cute black sweat outfit with a matching beret, and she sings "A Woman's Worth" by Alicia Keys. She's good, which makes me more nervous. I notice that John is scribbling notes on the paper; from what I could read he was just writing impressions on everyone.
The person up is this girl who has the same name I do, except the female version! We'll call her Stepta. Stepta goes up and sings her song; I can't remember the song, but she's good.
Then Rhiannon (yes, like the Fleetwood Mac song) goes up and does her thing. She sings "Fallin'" but messes up halfway through; still, she's gorgeous and has a great voice. The producers give her another chance and ask her to sing something else, so she sings "Amazing Grace." I think I'm falling in love. They thank her, and she walks back to her place.
Well, what do you know, it's my turn. I really don't wanna do it, I'm a wuss, people are looking at me, and I can't handle it.
Stept: Okay, guys, I was just doing this with my friend and since you guys just let her go, I don't really feel like doing this so can I go?
John: Who was your friend?
Stept: Sarah, from the last group.
John: She was good, now tell us about yourself.
Stept: You know what? You guys are assholes. You're the crushers of dreams -- do you know what you do to people? You make people cry just for your own sadistic pleasure and that's just not right.
John: Are you gonna sing?
Stept: Can I walk out?
John: No.
At this point, my fellow auditioners are gaping at me, and two of the girls are laughing. The Hottie is just staring with a cute smile on his face, and the lady is paying no attention to the laptop.
Stept: Come on -- I really don't sing. I was just doing this for fun and I'm not in the mood to make a fool of myself. I'm nervous and I feel kinda sick, so let's not waste your time or my time.
John: Sing -- you seem like you have everything else so far.
Stept: You mean the diva attitude?
John: Exactly.
Stept: [sigh] Hi, my name is Stept, I'm eighteen, from Miami, Florida, and I'll be doing "Angels" by Robbie Williams.
That's really what happened, word for word. I hope one of the people from my group comes onto the forums and vouches for me.
So I sing. I'm nervous, but I manage to keep steady. They thank me, and as I go back to stand in my place, I can feel my cheeks burning. The last guy in the group looks like a tortured artist -- scruffy face, beret, the whole nine yards. He sings "Candle In The Wind" by Elton John. He wasn't that bad, but definitely not my cup of tea.
When he's done, the producers thank us all and say that we were all good, but they're only going to have "Rhiannon and Stepta" stay -- or that's what I hear, so I head for the door, waving, and then they tell me to not walk out that door. I stand there, shocked; they say it's Rhiannon and Stept. Stepta gives me the look of death and storms out the door past me.
Rhiannon hugs me and thanks me for entertaining her. I thank her, and squee at the fact that the hot girl hugged me; she invites me to go shopping with her sometime. I'm just that big of a queen. Just kidding -- I'm nowhere near EJée level yet. John talks to us, gives us our green sheets, and inform us that the round is for the executive producers. He tells me to keep the attitude.
Rhiannon and I walk out to where the other callback people are in the center level of the auditorium. We have to show them our green slips, get a Polaroid taken, and get our song lists to see what we can sing at the executive producer auditions. They make me sign another waiver, fill out a bio and stats paper, and when it comes time to take the Polaroid, the camera is broken. The show makes millions, yet their Polaroid camera breaks.
We wait for the people who were sent to get cameras. I chat with some of my contestant friends. Rhiannon is telling everyone about my happy chat with John, and people are looking at me funny. I rock!
We wait another hour and a half before the people get back from K-Mart with the Polaroids; they take our pictures, staple them to our papers, and give us the song lists. There are two different lists; one is "Motown Songs," and the other is the "American Idol 2 Audition List" -- just random stuff, including some Paula Abdul songs, as well as classics like "Baby Got Back," "Ice, Ice, Baby," and "Bohemian Rhapsody," because you know all future divas belt stuff like that. I was excited to see that The Carpenters were on it, though, because I love The Carpenters -- LOVE!
After all is said and done, we walk away and start heading out of the auditorium. As we get out, we find Leonda leaning against a pillar with her cell phone to her ear, crying her eyes out. It looked like a scene right out of The Real World. You know, when the roommates get into an argument, so they run out of the house and sit on the street, leaning against some grimy wall, crying their eyes out and yelling into their cell phones? Just like that. We tried to calm her down, but she wailed and cried and looked at us with those big puppy-dog eyes and that horrible overbite, just looking all sad and stuff. If I hadn't been so mortally afraid of getting my eyes poked out by those chompers, I would have hugged her. Instead, Sarah and I went to Johnny Rockets with Matt, where we listened to him recount his experience in the audition room. He had originally planned to sing "Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down, but he said that due to "last-minute inspiration," he sang "Kokomo" instead. I feel for these producers; I hope they make good money. Anyway, he said that they told him they had never "heard anything like it before." Sar and I just smiled and congratulated him.
Did you guys know that Tennessee has the largest gay club in the south? Guess where we went that night to celebrate Halloween and my victory in getting past the first round? You get one guess. Yup, you got it
Sunday
The big day rolls around -- the round before the judges. I've decided on the song I'll do for the day: "For All We Know," by The Carpenters. I realize I'm about a hundred and twenty pounds too heavy to do this song, but I love the song, it's an homage. Luck doesn't seem to be marching with me, though; I have a stuffy nose, and my eye is all red and irritated.
I meet Matt, and we walk over to Sar's dorm room to get her. She helps out by giving me a kick-ass cute pair of sunglasses to wear over my red eye! Sunglasses indoors are totally in! Matt "sings" all the way to the auditions; I want to gouge my eardrums out. It's bad; it's worse than Lady Marmalade girl from the first season.
Inside the Double Tree, we see nothing; we look around for a bit until we see a bunch of girls covered in glitter with their asses hanging out of what I'm going to assume were shorts. We follow them up a flight of stairs, and surprise, we end up where we should be. The main lobby of the hotel is full of people, mostly friends and family of the contestants.
10:10. We're asked to sit in a really big conference room with a podium; we missed a speech by Nigel (another one, not Marky), but I think this Nigel's name was Nigel Fuller, Simon's dad. I lose Matt "by accident" and go to one side of the room to sit by myself. The room is pretty full, so I ask one of the people from the show how many people made it through. He says six hundred, from the three days of producer auditions. The conference room is stacked with banners that read, "[Product-Placed Car Company] Wishes You Luck." In what -- the competition, or driving one of their cars and not having it break down?
10:15. Rhiannon walks in and sits with me (yay!). She also has eye drops, which semi-fix the problem. Eventually we start walking around, mingling with people, and end up in a conversation with Fur Coat Girl, who is sadly not wearing her fur coat. They start calling numbers again in no specific order, three at a time this time. I see the people who get called walking away with people carrying clipboards and wearing these black AI/[Product-Placed Car] shirts.
10:30. I'm bored and cranky and my eye is bothering me again. I start regretting my outfit, because it's not as tight or sleazy as what I wore to the producers' audition; I look too conservative. Even though most of the other guys do too, some are wearing cut-offs, and some just a shirt with slacks and a jacket. I'm just wearing a blue shirt and jeans -- not even tight jeans! Oh, I'm letting the gay pop community down.
10:35. We find out that the people in the black shirts are actually interviewing people, getting the drama out of them. I find out from one of the people who was actually there for Nigel Fuller's speech that he said they were there "not looking for the American Idol, but looking to make a good TV show." I'm sure Jim's kicking himself for not being able to audition for this one.
11:00. This is lame -- waiting sucks!
11:10. We're all snapped out of our conversations by the sounds of a dying whale. Looking up, I notice it's a girl screaming her lungs out; she runs out of the two double doors in the back of the conference room, cameras following her, and she's jumping up and down. When she catches her breath, we find out that she auditioned for the executive producers and is making it to the judges. I don't see what reason there is to be that enthusiastic; it's just the judges.
11:15. We find out that Kristen Holt is there as a "Special Correspondent," but since we can't leave the damn conference room, I begin hoping she'll walk out so that I can use her teeth to see my reflection and check if my eye is any better.
11:30. About three more people have come out through the double doors. From what we gather, the executive producer signs the green slip and they take it up to the registration table to get the yellow slip inviting them back to the judges' auditions, which will be held the very day.
11:50. I finally get my first glimpse of Kristen Holt. She's standing right outside the conference room, interviewing one of the people who made it past the executive producer. Why, I don't know. Is the show going to acknowledge that there's a round before the judges this season? Or is it just in case these people do make it past the judges, so they can use the footage later? Whatever -- I gave up trying to understand television a long time ago. Kristen really is a lot more attractive in person.
12:30 PM. We decide to rebel and walk around outside; if they call our numbers, we'll hear them. The people in the black shirts are running around like crazy, trying to be all important. I walk into the bathroom to check my eye; it's still red, dammit. While I'm in there, Marky comes in to take a whiz! So I congratulate him on his singing the other day; he thanks me and wishes me luck before going back to his business. I'm rubbing elbows with the big boys now!
1:00. Still nothing -- we're back in the conference room. We've made friends with a couple of new people, so we sit around wondering how long we're going to be here. I don't know where he came from, but John is standing in the middle of the room, asking if everyone knows the words to "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Who doesn't? He tells us that in a second he's gonna send the cameras in, and we should start the song. Yay, group sing! ["Ew, totally stagy." -- Sars]
1:05. Kristen walks out with her caravan of cameras and starts hyping everyone up with some speech. You can tell she was a cheerleader. She starts dragging people up to the center of the room and making them dance! Attention whores run up and fight for a moment in the spotlight, everyone starts chanting -- it's a very Bring It On moment. One guy does the robot, another the fish, and I really hope they show all this on the show.
1:15. John walks out and cues everyone to start singing "Ain't No Mountain." This very gospel-sounding group of girls starts off, and I'm really in awe for a second. Then everyone else joins in, and it's a very gung-ho moment. This I really hope they show on the air. When everyone's done, the cameras disappear, but no one's done, so everyone busts out with "We Are Family," and the cameras magically reappear.
1:45. I'm getting really hungry and extra-crabby.
1:50. I decide to visit Sar outside and see how she's doing. She gives me an "I wanna bash your skull in" look before cheering up and pretending she's happy to be there.
2:15. As I'm walking back to the conference room, I see a boy in this Ryan Starr-ish denim outfit. Well, it's more like a cross between Ryan and Avril Lavigne. The jacket is ripped, and he's wearing a white shirt with a tie and is covered from head to toe in safety pins. One of the black shirts is asking him what the exec producer told him. Safety Pin Boy informs him that they told him he had a good voice, so they gave him a callback...but they also asked him to wear the same outfit. I'm sure it was all based on his talent; I can't wait to see what Simon said to him.
2:30. Finally Rhiannon and I get called to go with the evil black shirt people. I go with one lady, Rhiannon goes with another. We sit down in a quiet little area, and the lady asks me to tell her about myself. I do, and she starts asking me all these questions -- why I'm auditioning, why I'm not auditioning in Miami (quality time!), what would my family think about this, what would my friends think about this? Then somehow we start talking about my drunken cow-tipping experience. She's taking notes on all of this and smiling; I feel like telling her that I'm adopted because my real parents were squished in a meteor shower when I was a four-year-old fairy princess, but I don't.
2:50. I'm done with the interrogation, and she asks me to go back and sit in the conference room and wait for my number to be called, and she wishes me luck.
2:55. Rhiannon and I are chatting away outside the conference room when we hear a shriek -- a "Buffy killing the Gentlemen" shriek. We run to look inside and this -- okay, I guess it's a "he" is bouncing up and down the walls, screaming, "I made it!" He's wearing a black cut-off shirt and black pants with a Ryan Starr glove on one hand. (Why is everyone trying to be Ryan?) He nearly knocks over the podium, kissing random people and waving his arms frantically in the air. I wonder if I should go up and tell him this doesn't mean he's going to L.A. He eventually makes his way outside and pulls out his cell phone, the cameras all over him. He calls his mom and starts shrieking, "MOM! MOM! I MADE IT! I MADE IT!" My princess points were all just defaulted to him.
3:20. We've been sitting on our asses forever. I doubt Eden's Crush had to wait this long, and they're -- oh wait, never mind. Rhiannon, her best friend, Sar, and I all agree it's a good time to go and get something to eat; the hotel restaurant is on the same floor, so we figure we can hear our numbers called. We order our food, we sit down and start eating, we take three bites, and guess what? We get up and dash after another black shirt and behind the red curtains. We're sat down on either side of a wall.
3:35. Fur Coat Girl storms out of the audition room, crying. Kristen tries to stop her for an interview, but she stomps right on past. Something tells me she didn't get a callback.
3:37. Rhiannon walks out, also crying. I want to cry too, but my eye is finally better and I'm not about to fuck it up again
3:38. The other girl we'd been talking to walks out, crying
3:43. Matt walks out, not crying -- he got a callback. Remember, guys: Matt Yoder. You WILL see him.
4:00. Nothing happens fast around here. John walks by, spots me, and says hi and that he's been looking for me. He's hurt that I didn't look for him. What the fuck? He walks over to Kristen, who this whole time has been standing five feet away from me and complaining about how bad this guy she interviewed's breath was. John sends her over to me, so the girl sitting to the left of me is sent away and Kristen sits down and flashes her million-molar smile to the camera.
She chit-chats with me, asking me why I'm on the show. I act all important and tell her that I wanna tell Paula she looks like a Beverly Hills science project and that that's my only driving force. I really hope that makes it on TV. After a cute little ten-minute interview the cameras go away and I sit there with Kristen, chilling. I ask her who she thought should have won American Idol, and she says Tamyra, but she knew Tamyra wasn't going to win, because offscreen she had a really bland mellow personality. I ask her how her beauty pageant career is going, and she rolls her eyes and says that she had only ever been in one pageant, not counting the one she dropped to go to L.A. for the first season of the show, but that the show made her out to be a beauty pageant queen. I kindly remind her that it's a scholarship program. Then I ask her if she's the new co-host, and she tells me no, she's the special correspondent -- Ryan will be down the following day for the judges' auditions, but she's hoping that they like her enough to keep her. All of a sudden this has become Tool Idol.
4:15. I've seen about twenty people come out of those rooms crying. The girl to me is very pleasant and hoping for the best and giving everyone a lot of comfort thoughts. She's so sweet. When she goes in before me and comes out and doesn't make it, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
4:18. I'm up. Kristen hugs me, and John comes over, telling me to not let him down. I walk in to see two guys sitting behind a table with a camera between the two. To the left is a robust man, and to the right is a very scary, very British-looking man. He has my stats in front of him, which in case you all are wondering later gets handed down to the actual judges; he calls me by name and asks me to make him laugh. I have no idea what he means.
He tells me to do or sing something funny, so I bust out with "Baby Got Back," until I realize why he made me do that and that he's doing it to everyone, so I stop. The robust man is laughing really hard, but Mr. Nigel still has no smile on his face. He asks me to tell him about myself, and when I do, he nods for, like, a full three minutes and asks me to sing my song. I take a deep breath and try to relax. I'm not as nervous now as I was the first time, because there's none of my peers staring at me, just these two old guys. I start singing "For All We Know." I can totally feel my insides shaking, but I manage to keep my voice steady and get a good ways into the song before he asks me to stop.
He tells me it was very nice, and smiles, which completely relaxes me. He stares me up and down for a while before flat-out asking me what's the worst thing that's happened to me in the past two years. I process this for a moment. It takes a lot to surprise me, and that really did, even though I knew the show was contrived, built on drama, everything overly exaggerated. And it's not really the question that bothers me; it's the tactless way in which it was asked. But it is FOX.
I answer, and he stares at me a while longer, nodding. He takes down a couple of notes. He goes on to talk about how he wants to make a hit TV show, not find the American Idol, rehashing what sounds like the same speech everyone told me he gave earlier. For a second I start to think he's just going to ask me to go, but then he asks me if I'd be willing to "indulge" my story. I tell him no -- I do have some standards, which I doubt anyone believes because I'm here to begin with. He looks away from me and tells me that if I won't, then he's sorry but he won't ask me to come back. I nod and politely say thank you, and as I'm walking out, I make a very clear statement about seeing how good ratings will be when this rolls all over the internet.
I know that a lot of rumors have been going around about how, in some audition cities, they paid people to make fools of themselves. I wish I could have pocketed some of that money, but I went in as me and left as me.
When I walk out of the audition room, Kristen is right by the door with John, and cameras, lots of cameras. I just shake my head to tell them I didn't make it. Kristen hugs me and asks me how I feel; I just smile and tell her that I'm dandy and that it was a good experience, because you know sleeping on pavement in the freezing cold builds character. I walk down the hall to meet Sar, and we walk over to Matt and congratulate him on his success and encourage him to give it his all the day.
A lot of people asked me why I didn't just "indulge" the story, or make up some bogus lie to get to the judges so I could at least see myself on TV for sure. My answer is simply that I didn't want to get by on sympathy, even though this is how the show works -- after all, talent is for ugly people. But I wanted to get by on some semblance of talent, or my shining personality -- hell, even the drunk cow-tipping story I could have lived with.
This definitely isn't going to turn me off from watching the show. I'll be watching just like I did during the first season, cheering on the losers with my fellow posters, and if I just so happen to end up on the show making a fool of myself, someone better open a thread about me!
Oh, and y'all, just remember. Matt. Yoder.