The Morning After....

August 11, 2007

Dear Diary:

Well, I’m glad that’s over with.

I have to admit I was a little nervous about JP attending last night’s show. What if he started yelling at me from the audience? Or started waving around that damn DNA-crusted rag he’s been threatening me with for months?

What’s wrong with people nowadays? It used to be you could arrange a hook-up at the local no-tell motel, spend an hour doin’ the nasty, and then both parties would head home with their anonyonmity intack [Editor’s note: in the interest of accuracy, we are publishing “Teacher Clay’s” diary with the misspellings and grammatical errors “intact.”] Nowadays just because a guy performs a few quarter turns and lets ya give him a colonoscopy without any medical instruments, he thinks he owns ya for life!

Anyway, I have to thank Mama for coming up with a plan. She’s got that listserve of extra-special Claymates (those that has given over $10,000 to BAF...or has boughten over 100 copies of ATDW...or has written threatening letters to music critics) and she sent out an e-mail telling them that if they seen JP in the audience, they should not scream at him or hit him with their glow sticks or walking sticks or nothing like that, but just ignore-ignore-ignore him. Mama called it “Operation Dandelion” because she said that if you ignore a bright yeller dandelion on the lawn, pretty soon it will go to seed and just FLOAT AWAY. Mama gives such good advice and the only thing she wanted in exchange was the oportunity to come up on stage and dance by herself in front of that big old audience. Later on, Quianna and Angela said she looked like a hoochie up there. Because of that remark, they will not be touring with me next year. Now I will have to find someone else to hit the high notes for me and remember the lyriks to songs I forget.

My favorite moment of the night was when I teased the audience about making a big announsment. I acted like I was going to say I was “you-know-what,” but ended up saying I was...not cool! The Claymates did not get the joke. They never do.

Later on I had to skip the bus line because I had somethin’ else very important to do, but I had Mary write a blog hinting it was all the fault of JP! Ha-ha-ha-ha. Watch my mates “kick his butt” now! In the meantime, skipping the bus line gave me an extra hour to spend on M**h**t (Mama, I hope you are not reading this diary! It is PRIVATE!) where Sk*pp*r M*g** met a new guy online. We met in person at the Q**l*ty I** and I made sure he did not keep any of them t*wels.

Well, I been up all night, so I’m going to have a few Krispy Kremes and then hit the sack (for sleeping this time!) I figure I can sleep till ‘bout fifteen minutes before the next concert since I do not need to shower, shave, or even change clothes before going on stage.

Clay

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August 11, 2007

Dear Diary:

Clay ignored me.

The audience ignored me.

Everyone ignored me.

Even with the stretch limo, everyone ignored me!

I WILL NOT BE IGNORED!

Could it be that Clay’s tearful late-night phone calls and recent e-mails and IMs were just a ruse to keep me quiet?

I need to talk to him about this or I’ll be going to the National Enquirer with a few more details I just “remembered” about our encounter at the Quality Inn!

Mom hardly talked the whole way home from Cary. She seems distracted...distant. When I said goodnight to her, she replied, “Goodnight, Clay.” I wonder what that’s all about?

John


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August 11, 2007

Dear Diary,

I have to admit I felt somewhat “used” when my son said he was taking me to see a Clay Aiken concert as a gift. I would have been far happier if he’d agree to pay my cable bill...or pay the electric bill...or even clean his room. But instead he planned to take me to a concert featuring an American Idol RUNNER UP! (Couldn’t he at least have gotten me tickets for a winner like Ruben...or Kelly Clarkson...even Taylor Hicks?) I really had no interest in seeing Clay Aiken. That young man had inflicted quite enough grief on the lives of the Paulus family, even causing my son the Green Beret to lose his realtor job and become a porno star!

But even after all that trouble, I’m still a mother, and my greatest wish is to see my children happy. So when Johnny invited me to this concert, rented a stretch limo, and sent me off to have my hair and make-up done, I went along with it for his sake.

We arrived late for the concert and Johnny made quite an entrance into the audience, yet all the other people there studiously kept their backs turned to him and didn’t acknowledge him in any way. My heart began to ache for him.

Then MR. CLAY AIKEN took the stage and I no longer thought about Johnny....

I looked around at the audience -- all women my age and older -- swooning and screaming. I thought, “What do they see in this kid that I don't see?” Then I began to compare Clay to my own spawn. There was Clay, looking so tall and my son looking so short. Clay holding an audience of several thousand in the palm of his hand, my son being ignored by several thousand. Random thoughts flew wildly through my mind: gnats versus songbirds! gherkins versus waldos! the love-that-dare-not-speak-its-name versus what that manly, macho stud on stage was doing to my quivering ovaries! Oh, was I glad I was wearing fresh make-up! If I’d been wearing a thong, I guarantee, it would now be laying at Clay’s feet on that stage.

Laws’ of Mercy and Good Golly Molly -- I’D BEEN CLAYVERTED!!!!!

Where else can you find a kid who sings the slow ballads of my generation? Recalls the TV shows I grew up with in his “television medley”? And even lets his mama up on stage to dance?

Well, I’d better put my diary away and get to work. So much to do today. I’m so eager to become a full-fledged member of the Claynation. First I have to find an itinerary of Clayby’s concert tour. I’ll be off to Ashville soon. But first I need to turn my car into a clambulance, make a Flat Clay to ride along with me, create a screen name for the Clayboard (Green Beret Mom? Clay’s Hook-up-in-Law? Quality Inn Ma? Fistler’s Mother?) Plus I need to run out to Walmart and pick up a few dozen copies of ATDW. Yes, I’ll be spending my children’s inheritance -- but I’ll be spending it all on Clay, Clay, Wonderful, Beautiful, Superlative Clay!

S. Paulus