July Ends With Rejection; August Begins With One

In case you were wondering, Chelsea never called, never emailed, never even apologized for my invitation getting there too late for her wedding, which leads me to suspect maybe she never invited me in the first place.


Steven Spielberg, the sweetie, didn't go either, presumably as a protest to my lack of invitation. Next time he comes, I'll let him play with my Close Encounters Of The Third Kind Space Alien Plastic Figurine (he can play with Scooter too if he wants).

But now it's August, time to move on to different rejections. For reasons best known to someone else, I have not been invited to be a new judge on American Idol. Simon quit, now Ellen's quit, and Kara's been fired, leaving only Randy and two or three empty seats. And the way I've been eating, I could easily fill any two of those seats all on my own.

I started watching American Idol at the end of its first season, and I've watched with moderate to ridiculous obsessiveness up until last season, which everyone agreed was a lackluster year and not worth my watching. I can name all of the winners and all of the runners-up and a healthy proportion of third place semi-winners, and quite a number of other Idolettes. It is even possible I created the term Idolette, which alone should give me an in for the job. I went to American Idol summer concerts for Seasons 2,4,5,7 and 8, and most recently, went to 2 1/4 Adam Lambert concerts, which should surely count for something. Since Randy (the last remaining judge) says "Dawg" all the time, I could say, "Cat," or "Kitten" or "New York Times Best Selling Novel Life As We Knew It." As in, "Sorry Cat, you know I love you, you're a real hot Kitten, but that just wasn't up to your usual New York Times Best Selling Novel Life As We Knew It standards."

On the off chance, one of the Idolettes sings well, I could say, "Cat, that was the dead and the gone!" Or, " This World We Live In just got one thousand percent better thanks to that performance, Kitten!"

And if they keep me for the 2011 audition shows (and why wouldn't they), I can yell at all the lousy auditioners, "Blood Wounds! Blood Wounds!" which is a lot catchier than, "I don't want to be rude but you were terrible."

Idol is supposed to make a big announcement tomorrow, so they still have time to read this blog entry and email me their offer, which I'll accept instantaneously. Tomorrow, they can announce my new judgeship to the world.

I bet Chelsea'll be sorry then she didn't invite me to her wedding!