Phillip Phillips could easily hate his mother for giving him a ridiculous name. Nobody thought to say, “Hey Suzie (or whatever her name is) that is the dumbest fucking name I’ve ever heard!” Still, Phillip Phillips doesn’t have any ill feelings toward his mama. I will admit that I haven’t watched the entire season of American Idol. The last time I watched every week bikini girl ruined the finale. (She was a girl whose only talent was wearing a swim suit) I had gone to get the baby a bottle because my husband’s legs were broken, I mean he was tired. Apparently during that time bikini girl appeared on the stage and my husband thought it necessary to rewind her segment several times. So, I was watching on delay and didn’t realize it. Several minutes before Ryan Seacrest announced the winner my phone rang. My mother said, “Can you believe he won?” I thought she turned into that blonde psychic with horrible bangs on The Montel Williams Show. My husband was busted. “Dad was drooling over bikini girl,” my son said. I was fuming and haven’t watch a full season since. This year I saw enough to know that there was a red headed girl just as annoying as Reba McIntyre. I also couldn’t get past Jessica Sanchez’s teeth. Poor honey needs an orthodontist. To sum up the night: producers released way too much confetti after the winner was announced. (Contestants were practically choking on it) There was a tender moment when Dave Matthews, I mean, Phil Phillips was singing his new single. The 20-year-old got choked up, gently sat down his guitar and ran into his mother’s arms. It gave me hope that my tween will hug me in public again someday. The odds are in my favor if he still loves the same woman who made him the butt of jokes minutes after he slid through the birthing canal.
Mommy Dearest, really.
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