false idol

i have no fingers and no toes. at least, that's what my brain thinks right now, after standing out in the thirty degree new york morning for two hours or so. in spike heels.

i suppose you could say that i'm suffering from idol hands (rimshot).

that's right, ladies and gentlemen, i actually hauled my ass out here at 7am to partake in the debacle that is american idol. i stood in the shadow of the federal building. slunk my way around to the front. toddled slowly and listened to a whole bunch of incredibly irritating people practice their act while waiting. made it to the corner of wall and william streets (across the street from where the auditions were to take place) only to find out that in order to gain clearance into the building, you needed to have a fox-issued wristband. they started giving these wristbands out at 2am. and stopped when they ran out, around 2:45, apparently.

so, yeah. despite the fact that all the literature said to show up at eight, you were out of luck if you dared to appear so late. though they didn't see fit to tell us so at the time. whoops.

i was not terribly fussed by this particular turn of events--as most of you know, i had my reservations about going near this circus with a ten-foot pole. but there were some people that i just felt so awful for. one kid standing near me had flown in from chicago to get rejected. another girl was here with her mom, who'd completely rearranged her schedule as a nurse at some hospital to be here--she was going to be working something like an eighteen hour shift as penance. terrible. i'm mostly just cowed by how badly it was organized, how long it took for the word to come down from the mountain and find its way to us poor sods. inexcusable, really.

and i was so set to stare down that simon guy, too. who cares that standing in line i still had no idea what i was going to sing?

ah well, time to breathe life back into my digits and try to keep my ass warm (it's suspiciously chilly right now. rather distressing).