American Idol.

I tuned in last night, along with countless others.

I made a few observations by the time the two-hour season premiere had ended. Some disturbing, some surprising.

The surprising was how many times I cried, yes, cried for some of the contestants whose own emotions got the best of them. Here I am, a 36-year-old mom of two, crying like a baby for a teen who has just been told he is “going to Hollywood.” I haven’t done that since having my first child and watching Snuggle commercials on tv during maternity leave.

I had to go hunting for a box of Puffs after watching the contestant who welled up, along with his relatives, when he said this was his chance for his family to have a better life. His voice was good, but if I’m basing my votes on Kleenex alone, this guy’s the winner.

Other noteables?

Randy Jackson sports a watch with a face that is as big as the one in my kitchen. No chance of him being late with that thing tickin on his wrist. Stylish, yes, but it’s got to be heavy.

What’s up with Simon’s hair?

Sort of looked like a squirrel sat on top of his head, with this flat valley running through it. But, that’s Simon, who seems to wear a T-shirt to every episode of American Idol. Someone needs to tell the guy that this show is televised. And I won’t even comment on the girl in the bikini.

Poor thing must have gotten overheated.

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