It Pains Me to Admit This...

...but I am American Idol's bitch.

Yes, that's right, I am. And it is not because this season, rather than watching the show for its inherent snark value, I actually found myself caring about a particular contestant.

Okay, not caring so much as lusting after.

I quickly nipped that in the bud once I figured out that not only am I old enough to be his mother, but since he is old enough to be a father that makes me old enough to be his kids' grandmother.


That didn't stop me from downloading several of his performances from iTunes however. Even when he covered Iz's What a Wonderful World, one of my top favourite songs of all time, leading Little Dog to exclaim disdainfully, "Gah! He's doing that song you want played at your funeral!" my enjoyment of his music did not wane.

No, that is not why I am AI's Bitch. This is why:

I downloaded that stupid Mariah Carey song that she sang on the show.

Gaaaaah! I know! What is wrong with me?! I used to be cool - honest! Mariah Carey? There is a part of me that is so embarassed about this it refuses to go out in public with me. That part now stays home reading Bukowski and listening to vintage Cramps.

This new Mariah liking (note: not loving) part hops in the car, pops in a mix cd and sings along with Jason Castro from American Idol. Loudly.

This new me carpools the teens around and owns more than a few items of clothing with an elastic waist. This me recently let herself be talked into purchasing several items from the Clinique lady - the same type clinique lady I always tried so hard to avoid that I used to make RB go to buy the one product I used. This time I actually asked for her card, which I then placed in the filofax and put in my "mom" purse.

My name is Yellow Dog and I am officially middle aged.