Admit It. You Love 'American Idol,' Too.

I'm going to confess something. Actually, it’s more an admission than a confession. Everyone has something they want to get off their chest. Including me.

Ready? Here goes.

I’m hooked on American Idol. This is serious. I haven’t missed a show—including the absurd audition segments—since the program first aired in 2002. The show is now in Season 10. That’s 10 years! I can rattle off the names of all the winners (and the runner’s up) and even tell you the name of the first single each of them released after winning. The summer of 2008, I went to the Idol concert at HP Pavilion. (Bad, huh?)

Reality shows, in general, are not my cup of tea. I was never a devotee of Lost or Survivor. As for Desperate Housewives, I’ve known desperate housewives in real life; why would I choose to spend time watching television’s version? It’s true the mysterious events on DH are more provocative than the lives of people I know, but there’s enough drama and mystery in everyday life to hold my attention.

From where I sit, many reality shows impart too much unessential information, which they repeat ad nauseam, just in case viewers missed it the first time around. Both The Bachelor and The Bachelorette are the epitome of repetitive, sentimental claptrap. (I watched Ali fret and blubber once or twice last season and was frankly bored.) Jon & Kate Plus 8 led viewers through the daily routine of a family with sextuplets and twins. I couldn’t have cared less about their trivial lives, and often wondered if parents watched just to feel better about their own situations.

Shows like Supernanny, Bridezillas, Keeping Up With The Kardashians and Big Brother (to name a few) are examples of rude and annoying behavior elevated to the plateau of entertainment. I can't decide if the participants are self-absorbed egomaniacs intent on public attention (both negative and positive) or socially challenged individuals clueless as to what constitutes appropriate public deportment. Whichever, I find their exploits distasteful and irritating.

Several years ago, the show For Love or Money allowed contestants to choose between money or love. One of the participants was from Los Altos. I knew her, so I watched several episodes. She chose the money and then went back the next season for double or nothing–$2 million ended up in her bank account. In her case, the show was for the love of money.

Project Runway and Design Star both appeal to me, though. I relate to the creativity of the contestants and can’t resist checking out their ingenious fashion ideas and space solutions. Watching those shows is a little like a busman’s holiday for me—my other job in life is in residential design. Trading Spaces, the show that had neighbors trading and then redecorating each other’s house, was insane. Imagine turning your house over to an inexperienced neighbor for a remodel experiment. The best parts of the show were the episodes showing homeowners furious at the result. 

Every year, I watch the Academy Awards and the Emmy’s, but I never watch the red carpet edition beforehand. I care about the awards, not what the stars are wearing or what the people interviewing them have to say. Why bother? I can read all about it in People magazine the next time I’m in the nail salon downtown. Need I say more?

Wait, there is more.

I also like America’s Got Talent, which is similar to American Idol but not limited to singing, and Dancing With The Stars. Tell the truth, you watch it, too. If you’re like me, you probably secretly imagine yourself out on the dance floor.

I started watching a few seasons ago, because so many friends were talking about it. Now I’m a fan. When the competition starts, I pick the couple I think will make it to the end, basing my choice strictly on dancing, not popularity, because (here’s another confession) sometimes I have no idea who some of the stars are.

But American Idol is different. It’s an opportunity for undiscovered talent to emerge—a springboard for launching careers of ordinary people, like Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, into stars. You know the saying about kissing a lot of frogs—on this show, it’s about wading through a lot of untalented performers to find the outstanding ones. A panel of judges selects contestants with potential (I don’t always agree). Once they have the pool of thousands down to 24, the viewing audience takes control. Yes, I vote. Not every show, but every season.

My choices haven’t always made it to the final group. If my choice gets voted off, always a mistake, it merely confirms my opinion that the voting public is crazy and inept. Jennifer Hudson and Daughtry never made it to the finals. Duh. (I have yelled at the television screen and sworn I would never watch the show again more than once over the last nine seasons.)

So there you have it. Now you know where to find me every Wednesday and Thursday until mid-May. Happily cheering on my favorites (at this point I’m not 100 percent certain which contestant I want to win, although I am leaning toward one in particular) and booing if someone on my short list is eliminated. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll admit whether I picked the winner. Stay tuned.

Boy, it feels good to fess up.