AI, JB, BB

This is going to be one extensive post, so slap me if I'm becoming redundundant. :))

On one particular Wednesday a few months back, this guy, a bartender, walked in, sang his piece and got the golden ticket. Exactly one moment after he left the room, I turned to my sister, who had been watching with me, and said to her, "What's his name again?"

"David something e. Cook ata. Naalala ko kasi parang kapangalan niya yung trabaho niya, haha."

"Ahhh."

And that was how he became my favorite. I liked him even before everything, and I wanted him to win even before the world witnessed what he was capable of. He sailed through Hollywood week, got in through the Top 24, and with much confidence, I knew he could stay on for a long time. It was pretty easy to lose him in the crowd, what with David Archuleta and all, but Cook was pretty good and I was baffled to not meet anybody else who liked him as much as I did. (Well if anyone reading liked Cook as far back as the Top 24, wave your hand where I can see you.) And I mean, I really really really really really really really really like freaking really liked this guy, burger belly and all.

So the competition went on and stuff. People watched, Americans voted. And then the Mariah Carey week happened. And that, my friends, is just one example of his genius. I think he blew everyone's socks off with his rendition. After that, I was just glad that people began to sit up and take notice.

I won't write too much like an appalling little fangirl, but when it came down to the final two, well, I can't say that I haven't been waiting for the match-up since forever. Archuleta, as Simon said, picked better songs for last night. Cook's performances, on the other hand, while strong enough on their own, paled in comparison to Archuleta's song choices. And gosh, I was just crushed about it. I have never felt so... sad about any reality tv contest since the Cho Brothers got eliminated once upon an Amazing Race season ago. (It's actually pathetic how involved I am. :|) On the bright side, you can't predict something that hasn't happened yet, so I just hoped that Cook's artistry and originality for the whole season (and he is the most consistent performer I've watched so far) would be enough to tip the scales in his favor.

Just so you know, I had bad dreams throughout the night. No, not of Archuleta winning-- that was a minor thing-- but of actually missing the results show. I dreamed of waking up at 10 am and learning horrible news, and then I re-dreamed the dream and instead saw myself waking up at 4 am, to be doomed to watch a never ending results show that will never have results. How perverse. I often have those get-caught-with-your-underpants-off type of dreams when I'm nervous.

Anyway.

I woke up exactly on time for the results show, thank goodness. It was one long and entertaining spectacle. If they wanted the tension off for a while, they succeeded in doing that. It was only when the moment of truth was there, finally there, that I felt a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I hated the suspense. I glumly expected Ryan to read Archuleta's name, but then, I have to smugly say that David Cook, roughly twelve hours ago, became the American Idol.

And I couldn't help mentioning this fact to my family once every fifteen minutes, interspersed with sincere apologies for having to be so annoying, and telling them to punch me when they felt like it. They didn't though; they just had this deadpan face (accompanied occasionally by a roll of their eyes) whenever I was bothering them. Again. And again. And again.

There will be life after Idol, but I will miss it.

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I went to JB's debut last Monday (incidentally, it was also James Blunt's concert). I may not post the pictures anymore, since I didn't take enough to contribute what people would think is a decent album, but here's JB, in all her goddess-like splendor:

Pictures available upon request, I suppose.

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And finally, BB stands for Baby Brownie, a vintage Kodak cam we recently dug up again. By vintage, I mean that the most recent date I found on the bottom of this baby is 1942. I used to play with this as a kid, but even now I can't figure it out. It's a sweet little thing though. I'm thinking it's a point-and-shoot camera, since I can't see through the viewfinder, nor through the round red window at the back.

This uses black and white film, I think. Does anybody have any idea how to run this thing, in theory at least? I think it's kinda... broken. Haha, must've been all the playing way back.