You would think it would be the perfect intersection for me. Cheesy TV (American Idol) meets overconfident blonde beauty queen. You’d be right.
I don’t know her name (they have names?). Let’s just call her Miss Opportunity. When she first auditioned, she challenged Simon on his constant use of the word “pageanty” as a pejorative description of an individual’s performance.
“I’m here to show you that some pageant girls can sing.” And she did. Then she gets to Hollywood. And the crown and sash are weighing heavy.
She gets through the mad pack and into the top 50 (I think. I tend to drink more tequila when the blondes are on), where they had one last chance to do a solo, with a band and backup singers.
She tried to soar at the end and completely went off key. She grimaced and said, in her cute-as-pie voice, “I messed up!” followed immediately by a grin, then a frown—the contemporary embodiment of comedy/tragedy, I suppose.
Then the fun started. She wanted to try again. Simon was adamant in his refusal. But then he shocked everyone by saying yes to her performance. Randy said no. So it was up to Paula. And we all know where this is going, right? Sweet Paula who never dings anyone? She declared herself “on the fence.” And the lobbying began.
Miss Opportunity began cajoling. Cajoling in that annoying way of people who are overly used to getting whatever they want.
Not tonight, sister. Paula KICKED HER ASS TO THE CURB!!!! She began to protest and Simon stepped up, saying “nope, sorry. That’s it. You’re out of the competition.”
Cut to Missy crying in the hallway, not the vision of beauty she had so carefully cultivated. And then the cherry. The rallying cry of American youth: “I just wish they would have given me a fair chance.”
WTF? Are you kidding me? Aside from the fact that YOU were doing the singing. And YOU were the one who bounced that sour note off everyone’s head. What other chances did you want?
Go home girl. Your 12 minutes of fame will be enough to earn you the Miss Possum Trot title and a chance to win Miss Yodel Holler.
Who knows, with this level of exposure, you might end up marrying someone other than an extended relation.