The X Factor Files

I have a very talented friend. Well, I have lots of talented friends, to be truthful, but maybe it would be more accurate to say that I have lots of friends with lots of talents. We've already touched on Kate's unique ability to score really cool stuff for free like tickets and vacation homes and invitations to things and drinks. Most especially drinks. That only scratches the surface.


I have one very talented young friend who is likely to have a fabulous career among the rich and famous. His name is Ryan and he is in the band that the Gals and I usually see when we are in Arizona together. He's got a marvelous voice and a charismatic presence and has the benefit of being very young. Young enough that when we all friended him on Facebook, we friended his parents as well. They are closer to our age bracket. It made friending him seem less seamy. But that does not stop Kate (or Kate's children for that matter) from referring to him as her boyfriend. We've all accepted that if anyone is going to run off with Ryan it should be Kate.


But anyway, he's a really talented kid, with no issues with his looks to overcome on his way to stardom, and he has the extra benefit of having been raised really well. So in addition to being backed by a band that is loads of fun to see play, he's a very sweet, gracious, genuine, appreciative guy. Who also happens to have stunning blue eyes and a perfect smile and really good hair. (There really is such a thing as Good Genes.)


So anyway, the point of all this blathering on and on about Ryan is that he auditioned and got a spot on The X-Factor, Simon Cowell's spin off answer to American Idol. And I know this because of Facebook and frequent posts from Ryan and his parents, who are rightfully overjoyed and proud. The audition was taped and aired the other night. We were all on high alert; if we were going to see him on TV it would be then. So me and Hil and Pat and Charlotte and the Gals tuned in from our respective livingrooms and dens and rumpus rooms across many neighborhoods and states to get a glimpse of His Royal Yumminess.

But it is a two hour show. We had a lot of acts to get through. And all the while, Charlotte, Hil and I carried on a three-way conversation, with Charlotte and I texting, and Hil and I talking, and frankly, weighing in on all the contestants and their families with more harsh judgment than even Simon could muster. It went something like this:


(Enter a very odd man with his eyes spinning in his head and weighing about as much as Hil and describing himself as a Renaissance Man for the future)

Me: WTF?

Charlotte: Seriously?

Hil: This guy is a total weirdo.

Charlotte: Calls himself "J Mark?" "Renaissance?"

Me: Dorkasance.

(Hil is shrieking with laughter)

Charlotte: Is Hil dying?

Me: Actually, she looks concerned.


Charlotte: Simon looks evil.


Me: That's because he knows that J Mark is a psychokiller.

(New contestant of uncertain gender.)

Charlotte: What is that? Ru Paul?

Me: Again. WTF?

Charlotte: What was that name? Crystal Child???

Me: Should be Crystal Meth

Charlotte: Look at Paula. One too many bong hits.

Me: Seriously. Retire the crack pipe already.

(Commercial featuring the kid from Glee who plays Artie, who is in a wheelchair)

Charlotte: Artie is walking!

Me: He's adorable upright.

Charlotte: It's a miracle.

Me: God bless us everyone.

Hil: He can walk?

(Back to X-Factor. Big lummox with atrocious grooming is auditioning)

Charlotte: Look! It's the cave man from the insurance commercials.

Hil: Yuck. He just said he smells like onions.

Me: Who is that with him? His Mom or his hag?

Charlotte: His Mom!

Me: Lord love a duck.

Hil: (looking over at my phone) What's a hag? She doesn't look like a hag.

(The self identified Burrito Slinger begins to croon Etta James' "At Last.")

Hil: He can sing, Mom. I like this song. (She begins to surf YouTube for Beyonce's version from Inauguration Night)

Charlotte: Who'd have thought?

Me: Not I, she said. He still looks like Uncle George's friend, Bubba to me, though.

Hil (peeking again) Who the heck is Bubba?

(New contestants. A pair of large circus act contestants. Hil is breathless with laughter.)

Charlotte: Mama Cass. Oh dear.

Me: Where's the ham sandwich when you need one?

Charlotte: OMG missing teeth! And Mary Jane shoes? With Socks!


Me: And caftans. You'd think someone would have suggested a different get-up for this event.

Charlotte: Less is more.

Me: None would be more.


A full two hours of schizophrenic conversation goes by without so much as a glimpse of Ryan. Maybe that was him in the blue shirt that flashed by so fast one's brain could barely recognize another human form, but who knows. I am two hours older and none the richer.


But now I'm hooked. The one who simply can not stomach contestant shows is now committed to X-Factor because now that I've spilled the beans about Ryan to Hil, I can't not show up myself. I am doomed.