Late afternoon yesterday, I donned my running gear, left the house for my mid-week jog in Marikina only to turn back halfway. Dark clouds in the sky formed and it seemed like the heavens were about to pour out a torrent. It felt like a lull before a storm.
You know what, it didn't rain at all and the skies cleared as well. By that time, I was already lying on my sofa half-naked. Bummer. It's the same feeling I get every time I bring an umbrella with me and it doesn't rain.
So I spent the night instead watching the American Idol finals on TV between the two Davids. I never liked Cook, never liked his voice, but his performance in the finals was more edgy, had more personality and fire than the smooth-voiced Archuleta who predictably specialized in ballads, almost Barry Manilow-like.
At one point, Archuleta was speechless and close to breaking into tears. A note to contestants: don't do that. Unless your viewers are entirely gay or cotton candy teens, people hate cheesy, touchy-feely, you-are-my-sunshine moments on stage.
The judges, Cowell particularly, liked Archuleta better. But what do you know, the viewers disagreed and Cook won the competition.
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