So last night I abstained from the St. Patrick's day beer-drinking marathon (actually, I haven't celebrated St. Patrick's day since 1991), got into my most comfortable sweat pants and turned on American Idol, only to discover it was "Country" night. Uggh. Sorry, but I've just never been a fan of the whole Jamboree scene. Despite my hatred for country music, I endured (because the options were listening to Jewel's snaggletooth yodel song on "Dancing with the Stars" or a torturous episode of "NCIS".
I can only imagine the reaction of those poor innocent contestants when Randy Travis walked into the rehearsal room to give them advice. First of all, I'm no expert but I'm guessing Randy hasn't had a hit since most of these kids were still in diapers and imagine that not one of them knew who he was. Had I been a contestant I'd think the producers had sent in the Cryptkeeper (with a great set of fake teeth) as my musical coach for the week. Someone from the Craft Services table needed to stage an intervention stat and bring Mr. Travis a tuna club on a hoagie roll before he collapsed from malnutrition. Also, did anyone catch his eye-candy of a wife in the audience? She looked like she'd rather be sitting naked on a chair made of glass chards watching a live execution then sitting through Adam Lambert singing "Ring of Fire" set to the soothing sound of an Indian Sitar.