One of the worst things about being married is losing control of the remote control. Recently, I’ve been having screaming fights with V, owing to my suspicion that his desire to randomly change channels when it’s obvious I’m watching a programme stems from a desire to assert his control over me and an innate selfishness.

However, when I mentioned this to my sister, she said her husband’s the same so it appears that this is just another of the pitfalls of marriage, like having an overbearing mother-in-law, and is to be borne with stoicism.

Though sometimes it’s too hot to be stoic. Like when you’ve been obsessing about American Idol for all over three months and your husband for the final round of singing decides he wants to watch some worthless comedy (on BBC Entertainment which reruns everything at least a 100 times) and so insists on not changing the channel for the first ten minutes of AI. Now, ten minutes is not a big but it’s a big deal when: a) you’ve been obsessing about this show and this is the culmination and so you want to watch every minute b) the comedy isn’t a favourite of his or even something he can’t watch again so what gives?

Control-freakiness, that’s all. So I stomped off into the bedroom and refused to watch the show. I re-read Bridget Jones’s Diary instead which was tres entertaining. That book is so re-readable and always a good time. Why can’t Helen Fielding write more?

I was determined not to watch the finale either and so the first thing I did yesterday morning was check the results (Kris won, yay!). Normally, I studiously avoid any websites that would break the results before I’d watched the show in the evening.

Anyway, Pri was online and started telling me about the show and it sounded so awesome that I began dying to watch it. I even read all the gossipy websites she forwarded me and so I pretty much knew everything that happened and so decided it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t watch it.

When I went home, I didn’t say a word about the show… but V switched it on. Ten minutes into it, I decided to sulk anyway – though it looked awesome – and stamped off inside. Only to emerge ten minutes later, because I really really wanted to watch it much to V’s amusement. I warned him that any channel changing would send me off inside again, and thankfully, he didn’t.

Anyway, I’ve been rooting for Kris, because I belatedly realised (after Anoop was kicked off) that he’s super cute and can sing decently. I know Adam is probably more talented but that falsetto he kept doing started to annoy me after a point and I didn’t know if I wanted to listen to that for the rest of my life.

Except that Adam was sooo good at the finale. He lived up to Kiss, for god’s sake! He was Kiss, although they had makeup and he had… errr iron-wing-things. Kris on the other hand was somewhat outsung by Keith Urban, though he’s not a bad singer and with help from a studio can probably cut the kind of record I might listen to. Apart from Adam, the other stellar performance was Allison (Allyson?) and Cindy Lauper. Danny almost made me throw up with his Hello, but he kept up with Lionel Ritchie quite well. And they gave Megan and Michael a big solo (which sounded crap) and Anoop and Alexis two lines, which sounded awesome. Who is Jason Mraz?

Ok everyone has reviewed this show to death so I’m going to stop now. Except that my Adam-Kris dilemma finally got sorted and unfortunately not in favour of the one who won. Heh.

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