Lately, I’ve had zero time to blog. So I thought I’d quickly throw up a mishmash of the super important stuff that’s currently taking up all of my precious time.
Let’s start with Gordon Ramsay.
“Oh, bloody hell.”
My 10-year-old daughter is obsessed with him. She watches all 179 of his current TV shows. Here’s just a sampling:
Master Chef Master Chef Junior
Kitchen Nightmares Hell’s Kitchen Hotel Hell
The F Word* Satan’s Pantry
Beelzebub’s BBQ Jamboree The ‘Goddammit, My Face Resembles a Shar-Pei’s Ass, So You’d Better %$#^ing Suck It Up and Cook, You *&^%ing Donut!’ Kitchen
My favorite Ramsay show? It’s Raw! Where top-level culinary geniuses from around the globe forget how to cook a piece of chicken.
While Gordon’s ranting and raving are a bit much, I do appreciate the enlightening cooking tips he dishes out to the contestants like razor-sharp jabs to the nads.
Gems like:
“It’s raw!” and “IT’S RAW!” and “IT’S BLOODY %^%^%$##$%$%$% RAW!”
It’s not f***ing cooked properly! Are you not f***ing getting that, you f***ing wanker! Maybe if I crouch down to your bloody level and f***ing scream in your f***ing stupid face, you’d bloody f***ing catch on!
My daughter and I watch Master Chef Junior, because who doesn’t want to see an impressionable young child have her dreams crushed to paprika in front of millions of people?
[sniffing] [sobbing] [soul dying inside]And every episode is chock-full of suspense.
[ominous music] Will they cook it right?
[music swells]
…or won’t they?
[dramatic pause]
“Too salty.”
Speaking of salty, what in the bleeping name of Jiminy Cricket is going on with these dagnabbit hoozeewhazzits?
In case you’ve been living in an underground bunker filled with a lifetime supply of Spam and Dr. Pepper, these are Fidget Spinners. Or as I like to call them:
My kids begged me to buy them one. All the cool kids had one and all the uncool teachers hated them. They were sold out everywhere. Weeks went by, and my kids were still sans Zigzag Dilliwackers.
Finally, we stumbled upon a stash at the local pharmacy. I couldn’t wait to see what all the hubbub was about. Is it magic? Is it a game? Is it like a Rubik’s Cube?
I picked one up and asked, “So, what is it?”
Kids: You spin it.
Me: And then?
Kids: That’s it.
Me: [puts fidget spinner back down, then slowly walks away to weep in the car]
Last time on Seinfeld, The Soap Suc Part 1: George is moaning about his injured foot, Jerry’s pouring himself another bowl of cereal, and Kramer is about to determine whether Elaine’s breasts are lopsided.
ELAINE (pushes Kramer’s hand away, looks down at her watch): Oh, would you look at the time? I gotta go. I’m late for Mr. Pitt’s emergency meeting.
JERRY: What about?
ELAINE (crams her unwashed bras into her coat pocket): Oh, I don’t know. He probably wants me to run out to buy him some sharper knives to cut his Snickers bar or something.
Elaine leaves. Kramer plunks down on the couch next to George.
KRAMER (double take): Whoa. You are a mess.
GEORGE: I know. Thanks.
JERRY: Aw, what happened to you, Georgie boy?
GEORGE: I was taking a shower and the stupid bar of soap fell right onto my foot! Right on top of it! (sniffles) I think it’s broken. I might have a hairline fracture.
KRAMER: Man, do I hate when that happens.
JERRY: What — the soap dish in your shower doesn’t work?
GEORGE: It never works! The soap just slips off the little shelf there. My entire shower is me getting pummeled by the soap over and over again.
KRAMER: They should make a little suction gadget, you know, like a suction cup you can stick to the soap and the shower wall so it’s there whenever you need it.
JERRY: Why don’t you just use a loofah and some body wash instead?
GEORGE: A loofah? What am I, Cleopatra over here?
JERRY: Well, you could stop taking showers altogether. Just take baths. Less chance of being hit by the soap.
GEORGE: Nah, too much waiting involved.
JERRY: How often do you take a shower anyway? Every day?
GEORGE: Eh, I could go a day without one. Maybe two.
KRAMER: I’ve gone a month.
George and Jerry cringe.
KRAMER: What? It’s good for the skin, let’s it breathe. Besides, did you know that Howard Hughes had an extreme fear of bathing? I think he was onto something.
JERRY (to Kramer): Don’t you have to be somewhere?
KRAMER: Oh yeah! (snaps fingers) I’d better get going on that soap suction thing.
GEORGE: Hey, whatever happened to that last idea of yours? You know, the uh… cookie-pretzel-muffin combination?
KRAMER: Yeah, the muffzookie.
GEORGE: I liked that one. You should do that.
KRAMER: Too crumbly.
GEORGE: Oh.
KRAMER (stands): Well, boys, I’m off to see Bob Sacamano. He’s just the man to help with my idea.
JERRY: Yeah, good luck with that.
Next scene: Jerry and George are sitting in a booth at Monk’s Cafe.
image: NBC
GEORGE (slurping coffee): I’m so dehydrated, Jerry. I’m always so thirsty. (to waitress) I need more coffee here! MORE COFFEE! (to Jerry) I’m parched. I can’t quench my thirst. There’s no quenching!
JERRY: Running those marathons again, George? You know, you really ought to pace yourself.
GEORGE (chuckles): Well, you could call it a marathon. (lowers voice) You know…with all the sex that I’m having.
JERRY: Ah, yes, with Shower Girl, right?
GEORGE: Yes! It’s nonstop! But she only wants to do it in the shower! You know, like the movies.
JERRY: What movies?
GEORGE: I don’t know, all the movies!
JERRY: So, what’s the problem?
GEORGE: What’s the problem? Have you ever had sex in the shower?
JERRY (chuckles): I don’t think that’s any of your business. (sips coffee)
GEORGE: Well, if you had you’d know that it’s terrible. Just sheer terror from start to finish. I mean, think about it. You’re in this cramped space, there’s water flowing everywhere, everything’s getting all sudsy. Elbows and knees are flying. It’s chaos!
JERRY: Well, at least you’re having sudsy sex.
GEORGE: Oh, so you broke up with Monica?
JERRY: Yeah. I just couldn’t do it anymore. She had this wonky eye.
GEORGE: You mean like she couldn’t see out of one eye? Now that I could work with. I like a girl who can’t see very well. I’ve often thought I should start dating a pirate.
JERRY: No, she could see fine, but it was like one eye was always wandering slightly to the side. It was very off-putting. I could never tell what she was looking at.
GEORGE (nods): Huh.
Kramer enters the restaurant and slides into the booth next to Jerry.
KRAMER: Hey, guess who I just saw?
JERRY: Who?
KRAMER: Putin.
GEORGE: Vladimir Putin? The President of Russia?
KRAMER (clicks tongue): That’s the one.
JERRY (incredulous): You saw Putin. Here in New York.
KRAMER (steals a french fry off George’s plate): Yeah, he was buying Snowden a hot dog with extra sauerkraut down on 5th street. Anyway, I’ve got big news, boys. Behold, the product that will blow your minds! (hands a couple pieces of plastic to George and Jerry)
JERRY: What am I supposed to do with this?
KRAMER: Stick it. See, they’re little suction cup holders I made. I need you guys to test them out. They have suction on both sides. You just slap them on whatever item you want, soap, shampoo, whatever, and (makes popping noise) stick ’em.
JERRY: Don’t they already have these?
KRAMER: Yeah, but Bob Sacamano got his hands on this new top-secret adhesive that doesn’t require a nonporous surface. So you can stick ’em all over the place. Use them for anything anywhere.
JERRY: Right. Just what the world needs — more useless plastic.
GEORGE: And what are you going to call these things? Stick-Its?
KRAMER: Well, we call those the Soap Sucs. S-U-C, short for ‘suction’.
JERRY: I think you forgot the K on the end there.
KRAMER: Soon we’ll roll out bigger suction cups for bigger items, like the TV Suc. Maybe even an Infant Suc. Need to put your child down for a second? (makes popping sound) Just stick ’em to the wall! I see a suction cup world, baby. (wiggles eyebrows)
GEORGE: All right, I’m sold. Look, I gotta go. (stands up and throws money on the table)
JERRY: More shower sex?
GEORGE: You’d think she’d wanna do it in the bed at least once in awhile. She’s killing me, Jerry. If there’s anything I’ve learned in all the years I’ve had sex it’s that I much prefer horizontal. It’s comfortable. I can rest when I need to. I’m just not built for stand-up sex. I never pictured myself doing it in the shower.
JERRY (cringes): I’ve never pictured you doing it period.
GEORGE (holds up the Soap Suc): Stick it, Jerry.
Theme music plays, commercial break
______________________________________________
Stay tuned for The Soap Suc Part 3…
This post is dedicated to my father who passed away in 1991. Not only is Seinfeld one of my all-time favorite sitcoms (along with Cheers, Friends and Roseanne) it holds a very special place in my heart. I remember watching the first few seasons with him back in 1989-90 when it was called The Seinfeld Chronicles. The ratings were terrible in the beginning. But my dad had a great sense of humor and he loved the show from the start. He thought Seinfeld was innovative and insisted it would go far. I still watch old Seinfeld episodes all the time and damn, was my dad right.
Jerry’s alone in his apartment. He’s watching television and eating cereal.
JERRY (giggling): Man, I love The Three Stooges.
The door buzzer sounds. Jerry walks over and presses the intercom button.
JERRY: Yeah?
ELAINE (breathing heavily): Jerry! Jerry! It’s an emergency! Let me in quick! I need help!
JERRY: Who is this?
ELAINE: Jerry!
JERRY: Okay, okay, come on up.
Jerry cracks open the door, then sits down on the couch and resumes giggling at the TV.
Elaine bursts through the door with a bunch of bras in her hands.
ELAINE (gasping): Quick! Where’s your washing machine?
JERRY: What? I don’t have one.
ELAINE (exasperated): You don’t have one?
JERRY: I dry clean everything.
ELAINE: Ah! God! I’m doomed!
Elaine throws her bras onto the kitchen counter and plunks herself down on the couch. She wiggles around, clearly uncomfortable as she frantically pulls on her blouse.
JERRY (clicks off TV): What’s with you?
ELAINE (cries): I’ve run out of bras! They’re all dirty!
JERRY: Well, don’t you clean them?
ELAINE: Yes, Jerry, I clean them. Occasionally. But all the washers were being used in my building so I had to put on my stupid sports bra this morning. (pushes her breasts together) Now they’re all squished!
JERRY: Wait a second … since when do you play sports?
ELAINE (smirks): Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Jerry. And I have a meeting with Mr. Pitt in an hour. Ah! How can I live like this all day? (thrashes around) Dumb boobs!
JERRY: I don’t know how you guys walk around with those things.
Kramer bursts through the door. He slides across the floor, spins around, and points a finger at Elaine.
KRAMER: You guys talking boobs?
JERRY: I’ve got to remember to lock my door.
ELAINE (dejectedly): I suppose I could just wear one of my dirty bras. (gestures sadly toward bras on counter)
JERRY (picks up the bras with salad tongs and deposits them onto Elaine’s lap): Yes. Well, how many bras do you own?
ELAINE: I don’t know… four, maybe five?
JERRY: Five? That’s it?
ELAINE: Yeah … well, really only two good ones that actually fit. (thinks intently) One. (nods) I have one bra that I like.
KRAMER (bites into an apple): You’ve got lopsided boobs. (clicks tongue, wags eyebrows)
ELAINE: I don’t have lopsided boobs. Okay, well … I guess one is a little smaller than the other, (scoffs) but I certainly wouldn’t call it lopsided.
JERRY: Actually, that’s the very definition of lopsided.
KRAMER (slurps from a Snapple, wipes his mouth with his sleeve): I like lopsided boobs. Makes it interesting. Always a surprise. (winks at Jerry)
Door buzzes. It’s George. Jerry buzzes him up.
ELAINE: I don’t have lopsided — okay, here! You guys wanna check?
JERRY: Check?
ELAINE: Yeah, feel ’em. Go ahead.
JERRY (chuckles): I’ve already had the distinct pleasure so I don’t think I need to–
KRAMER (raises hand and approaches Elaine): I will!
Elaine stands up and heaves her chest in Kramer’s direction. Kramer reaches forward.
George enters panting. He slowly limps over to the couch.
GEORGE (moans as he sits down): I’ve injured my foot, Jerry. It’s bad. I may never walk again!
George glances over at Kramer and Elaine.
GEORGE: Did I miss something here?
JERRY: Nah, Kramer’s just feeling Elaine’s boobs. It’s nothing.
Seinfeld theme music plays. Commercial break.
~ Stay tuned next time for Part 2 of The Soap Suc ~
*********
This post is dedicated to my father who passed away in 1991. Not only is Seinfeld one of my all-time favorite sitcoms (along with Cheers, Friends and Roseanne) it holds a very special place in my heart. I remember watching the first few seasons with him back in 1989-90 when it was called The Seinfeld Chronicles. The ratings were terrible in the beginning. But my dad had a great sense of humor and he loved the show from the start. He thought Seinfeld was innovative and insisted it would go far. I still watch old Seinfeld episodes all the time and damn, was my dad right.
You may remember the post My Secret Movie Star Life when I revealed I used to be almost famous as a stand-in for bratty actors on bathroom breaks*. But like most real movie stars, my high-flying prolific career started to fizzle and plummet faster than Jenny McCarthy’s breasts in 30 years.
Hey, this gorgeous frying pan I have for a face can only take a person so far in life.
My official headshot.
So for years I did what anyone else would do, I drowned my sorrows in Zima and Hot Pockets, then I tried my hand at stand-in jobs on a much smaller scale: The boob tube.
Emphasis on the boob part.
Please join me as I revisit some of my most celebrated TV show stand-in roles from the 1970s, 80s and 90s!
FACTS OF LIFE
You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then you have me ripping chunks of hair straight out of Blair Warner’s Aqua-Netted head.
It all began when the director insisted I roll around set in Tootie’s roller skates while she took another “cigarette break” and Blair strategically placed dozens of tampons in the doorway of every hallway, hoping I’d crash-land on top of her archenemy, Jo Polniaczek.
In retaliation, Jo and I conspired to sneak a magic ingredient into one of Edna’s Edibles muffins and within hours security was dragging a screaming Blair away as she kept insisting gummy worms were oozing out of Natalies’ dimples.
Yes, her career as a snarky girl in a dark blue tie was officially over before it began thanks to me, her penchant for baked goods, and a sweet little bag of Maui Wowie.
DIFF’RENT STROKES
This show brings back so many painful memories. Not the least of which is the fact I was forced to work with the uppity Mrs. “Saggy Girdle” Garrett yet again.
And Gary Coleman? A complete asshole once cameras stopped filming.
Sadly, no amount of pleading on my part convinced the director that my catchphrase ideas were more buzz-worthy, so I was promptly thrown out of the studio after the first week of shooting (and coincidentally, I landed right on top of Jo Polniaczek)
GOLDEN GIRLS
Oh! Now this was a sweet gig! I spent many fond years standing in for Sophia Petrillo due to her constant need to feed her insatiable cigar and malt liquor habit.
Once the season wrapped, I barely kept up with these guys, what with the constant midnight strip poker parties held in Stanley’s trailer, the clouds of suffocating ganja smoke permeating from Rose’s dressing room, and the steady stream of Chippendale dancers filing out of Dorothy’s boudoir. As for Blanche? Total prude.
How I miss these ladies! They were wild. They were saucy. Most of them are now dead. Why? Why mortality? Why not Jenny McCarthy**? It’s just not fair!
LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE
Yowza! Another sa-weet gig. I was the stand-in for Willie “Booger-Eater” Oleson. So basically I spent my time inhaling chalkboard dust, running into walls, and cramming my pie hole with Gobstoppers at the Oleson Mercantile.
One fateful day Nellie “Smellie” Oleson and I snuck cayenne pepper into Ma’s morning coffee and she spewed it all over Pa’s perfectly-coiffed mane of glorious hair. Oh was he pissed! I remember vividly how he ripped off his shirt and suspenders to mop up the mess. One thing we could always count on was Michael Landon’s constant need to subject us to his glistening pecs.
During the rare down times when Pa wasn’t stripping, he’d bust out the violin while the cast and crew would gather ’round the fireplace to be entertained by Laura Ingalls’ superior liquor chugging skills. She didn’t get the nickname “Half Pint” for nothing.
GROWING PAINS
Ooh, yeah. Yikes. Not much needs to be said here. Other than two things:
1. The producers refused to listen to my sage advice when I warned the public would be much more receptive to a less obviously perverted nickname for the character who played Mike’s best friend, Richard “Boner” Stabone.
Like maybe Mr. Giggles McSchlonger or Dick Donger.
2. And Mike Seaver? Complete asshole once filming stopped.
Complete asshole during filming.
Complete asshole in general.
FULL HOUSE
Finally, my last paying job, the one where I pulled off a feat never before attempted in the history of Stand-In Acting: I played three roles simultaneously.
Exhausting? Hell yeah! But at least in order to play Kimmie Gibbler I didn’t even need new hair, makeup or clothes as we all marveled at the fact we could have passed for twins. Very odd-looking-bordering-on-dumbass twins.
The Full House crew was like one big happy family. We had Joey Gladstone, who bored us all to tears in between takes with the one good impression he had in his repertoire (and even Jesse could do a better Bullwinkle in his sleep), the ever-present and uber-creepy Danny Tanner (who would go on to do an equally disturbing voice-over for How I Met Your Mother), and my personal fave, Jesse “Bam Bam” Katsopolis.
Sure, Jesse was sexy. But the clincher for me was the biggest jewel he possessed in his ridiculously talented crown:
His musical career with the unparalleled group, The Rippers. Enjoy.
And so this wraps up my secret TV star life! Impressed? I thought so. _______________________________________________________________
*never happened
**I sincerely hope Jenny and/or her breasts live a long fulfilled life.
One fine day a couple years ago, I stumbled upon a humor blog that was hipper than Mrs. Brady’s polyester pant suit, cooler than Shrinky Dinks, and funnier than the fact there was a character on the sitcom Growing Pains named Boner.
Her brilliant writing never failed to make me laugh. Plus rumor has it she was once cast as an original member of the beloved Keaton family.
Sha la la la, indeed.
And I’m almost certain she had a bit part on Saved by the Bell: Screech’s Puberty Years
Then something big happened. After being Freshly Pressed numerous times and ruling the WordPress Recommended Humor Blog page for months — she had to go and get pregnant.
I just finished watching my favorite TV reality show, Survivor. I’ve seen all 3,000 seasons. After we watched last week’s thrilling finale, my six year old daughter turned to me and said, “Hey, Mom! I know what you can do for a job! Go on Survivor!”
Oh, silly girl. Mommy wouldn’t last ten minutes. Why?
I’d constantly tell the hunky young men to put on a shirt. And pull up their pants, get a damn haircut and a shave, for god’s sake.
I don’t like insects.
I like to eat.
I don’t like to eat insects.
Good for you! You ate vile bugs! Put on a damn shirt! (I heart you, Malcolm)
On the first day, I would be banished to the ‘Over-40/Pre-Menopausal/Cranky Ol’ B’ tribe.
After listening to Jeff Probst’s relentless and annoying play-by-play during the first immunity challenge, I’d haul off and punch him in the face and scream, “Shut up! Just shut up! For one goddamn second! Think you can manage that, huh? How ’bout some f***ing silence while I try to pull these f***ing puzzle pieces out of this stupid f***ing volcano!”
Wow, you know what would really help me right now? If you’d shut your %$&ing face, Jeff.
I like to sleep without the threat of millipedes burrowing into my ear canal.
No toilets.
I’m a terrible liar. Halfway through a betrayal, I’d snort and laugh and say, “Naw, I was just messin’ with you! I love you! Don’t vote for me, k?”
B.O.
If anyone were to write my name down at Tribal Council, I’d burst into tears and wail, “Why? Don’t you like me? Is that it? Huh? Was it something I said? Why would you do this to me? Why?!”
Sometimes the view on an island ain’t so pretty, dude.
If Russell Hantz were to surprise everyone by suddenly zipping into the game on a helicopter, I’d have to haul off and horse punch him.
Same goes for any and all siblings/offspring and/or nephews/nieces/uncles/aunts/pets/neighbors of Russell Hantz. I suspect at least one of them will be on the next Survivor. Possibly all of them.
No toilets.
(Yeah, it bears repeating.)
Maineiac Darla doesn’t have the same ring to it as Boston Rob
Would you ever go on Survivor? Think you’d last longer than me? Oh, yeah? Well, I’d vote your ass off first.
(Unless you wanna be in my alliance. But I’d still vote you off with an epic blindside. Maybe I’d be good at this game after all….)
Friends was one of my all-time favorite shows. I loved it so much, it’s now my main go-to show I’ll watch in reruns– I’ve seen every episode countless times.
But there was a time I hated it. Yep, I was one of the few people who just didn’t see the glittering gem hiding in the hunk of crap that was the show’s first season. And oh, God, it was such a bad, bad season too. Just terrible. The clothes! The hairdos! The Rachel hairdo!
image wikipedia
I hated the show so much, I refused to watch more than a few episodes and declared the show would soon tank in the ratings, never to be heard from again. I also thought the internet would never catch on.
Why I Hated Friends (in the Beginning):
1) The annoying theme song.
When I first heard it back in 1994, I think it wormed its way into my brain, shacked up in the frontal lobe, and set up camp–managing to destroy my love for all music forever.
” I’ll be there for youuuu….when my soul starts to scream. I’ll be there for youuuu….when my mind starts to bleed. I’ll be there for youuuu…stick this fork in my eye. I’ll be there for youuu…no I’m serious, do it now….”
2) Ross’s haircut. (see image below)
It was too shiny and looked hard, like a helmet. How much Dippity-Do did he use for God’s sake?
3) Ross’s monkey.
In the first season, I could not get past the fact that he had a monkey perched on his shoulder in every scene. I wish I could’ve been at the writers’ staff meeting when they came up with that genius idea. “Hey! Shouldn’t Ross have some kind of pet? I mean, we’ve got to distract people from his hair. Uh…like a cat! Yeah! No…a parrot? Hmm…no, you’re right…not bizarre enough…. Ooh! I’ve got it! A pet monkey named Marsel! And then hilarity will ensue!”
Thankfully he vanished sometime between season 1 and 2, probably after meeting an untimely death involving a runaway taxi cab or an accidental cappuccino overdose at Central Perk.
To-Do List: 1) Clean Up Feces in Couch Cushions 2)Bring Marcel to the ‘Circus’, then drop him off in an empty field and slowly walk away
4) Phoebe’s Smelly Cat Song
image digplanet
Sure, the song is cute and annoying and pure Phoebe (whom I love dearly). It was funny the first time I heard it. But then they kept making her sing it. They even dragged in poor Chrissie Hynde to duet with her in one episode. Enough already. “it’s not your fauuuuult…” It IS your damn fault so please shut up with the bad singing and the guitar before I smash Marsal over the head with it. (I didn’t realize I had such rage about this until now, whew! Felt good to get that out and I’m sorry.)
5) The Rachel.
I hated this haircut then, I hate it now. Back then, it was everywhere. Everyone wanted to look like her. The more my friends gushed on and on about The Rachel and had their own hair cut like hers, the more I wanted to rip my own hair out of my head and just go bald and call it The Darla to spite them all. This haircut was probably the main reason I hated Friends in the early episodes.
6) Courtney Cox-Arquette-Now-Back-to-Cox-Again
In the early days, she still had the fresh-off-the-Bruce-Springsteen-stage look. Every time she entered a scene, I waited for her to suddenly break out into her lame hand-clapping, finger-snapping, foot-swishin’ moves to “Dancing in the Dark”. Sadly, she never did.
image: buzzworthy
7) Monica’s boyfriend Richard
What was it about seeing Tom Selleck cozy up to Courtney Cox that made my skin crawl in that “he’s-old-enough-to-be-your-dad” way? Then he shaved off his moustache in a future episode. I don’ t know about you, but Magnum PI is no man with no ‘stache. His face looked like a newborn baby’s butt. All exposed and vulnerable. And dimply, way too dimply. It was just wrong, so very wrong.
Monica: Fine, I can get past the 30 year age gap…but I swear to God, if you reach for that Gillette razor it’s all over, Old Man.
8) The Gleeful Fountain Scene
We are so cold. And wet. And so very cold.
Ah, yes. We get it. You guys are having fun. Whee! Let’s splash around! Yay! Oh, and now you’re all doing the Ahnold Schwarzenegger muscle flex move! Nice! And then you sit on a couch and turn off a lamp. How cute. Blech.
10) The Will They or Won’t They? Crap
Does Ross know Rachel likes him? Does Rachel know that Ross knows she knows?
Should we kiss now? No? How ’bout now? Uh…tell you what, I’ll meet you halfway and then whatever happens, happens? Okay…on the count of three…one…two…oh. Oops! Nope, you got my nose there. Let’s try again. OK, this time our lips WILL connect. Are you ready? Get ready, okay? Let’s do this! One…two…
It was like watching two old ladies fight over the last loaf of rye bread at the Buy N Bag. Painful and slow and very unattractive. I didn’t feel any of the potent sexual tension the 9999 times they almost kissed. When they finally did, it was the OoOOOOHHH! heard round the world while I was probably on the couch snoring.
Did you love Friends the first time you saw it? Did you like Seinfeld too? Because that’s another show I hated during the first season (and grew to love). Is there a popular TV show out there now that you just hate?
One of my guilty pleasures is watching the AMC hit show Mad Men. I love the sets/costumes, the actors, and the writing. I watched the first four seasons in a span of a month. I didn’t think I’d like it, but I was hooked. Some of you may not have seen it yet (or might not care to) and I realize we live in a bite-sized entertainment culture where we have super short attention spans.
So here is my quick take on things, a zippy little recap of the entire show in 500 words or less:
[warning! Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen all the seasons yet, you don’t want to read further…]
Ooh! Jazzy cool theme song and opening credits!
Yes, we all work in an ultra-hip Manhattan advertising agency. And we drink.
A lot.
Don Draper: Ad Man. Creative genius. Shady past. Likes to smoke, drink, and have sex with the nearest woman at any given time or place. His three go-to facial expressions: wince, stunned and stunned wince.
Betty Draper: Housewife. Sometimes mean mother. Keeps it all together with a steady diet of cigarettes and cold hard stares.
Yeah, she’s got issues.
Don wincing again. Here he is trying to deal with the inner turmoil about his dark past. Or his inner turmoil about the young, brilliant upstart threatening to take over his job. Or his inner turmoil about being married to Betty. Or his inner turmoil about wanting to sleep with every single woman in the known universe.
Heh. I’ll drink to that.
Make mine a double, Don.
Witty banter…witty banter…witty banter…
…and smoking and drinking and witty banter.
[Joan] God. You guys are such freaking idiots.
Wait a sec–did I sleep with every single one of my secretaries? (wince-smoke, wince-smoke)
Not this one.
Yeah, well. I’m a smart woman and a pretty kick-ass copywriter and I’ll be damned if I stoop so low as to sleep around to get what I want and–oh crap, too late.
[Roger] Is it getting hot in here? Y’know…being so close together like this, is so very… sexy. Have I slept with all of you yet? No? Well…how ’bout it?
[Don] Ha, ha! Ok, here’s a funny joke, stop me if you’ve heard this one…How many woman that I have currently slept with does it take to make this elevator plunge violently to our deaths? No? No guesses? ….anyone?
Why is it that nobody ever wants to take a crack at me?
It’s the suspenders, isn’t it?
So because you’re my secretary, I hereby decree that we will have sex. And, ah, what the hell! Let’s get married! Just promise me no freaky-deaky zoo be zoo be zoo French songs or mad-raving-lunatic housekeeping.
[Don screaming] God!..ix nay on the oo be zay…please stop! Do our vows not mean anything to you? For the love of God, my ears are bleeding! You promised!
[Betty] Why, certainly! I would love to have another cup of tea! Perhaps it will help me swallow this gnawing bitter resentment I feel now that Don has moved on with a sexy, young, bright, extremely toothy French girl while I sit here in a loveless marriage with three kids and a bad double chin prosthetic with nothing to comfort me but a can of Reddi-Wip that I inhale late at night over the kitchen sink by the light of the moon. (ahem)
When I think of summer, I think of lazy days spent by the pool or picnics on the grass. But how does my husband spend his summer days? Catching up on reality shows. Not Jersey Shore or Desperate Housewives of DC, but other gems like Parking Wars, Operation Repo or Ice Road Truckers. I know, I’m just as shocked as you that there is a meter maid, repo man and ice road trucker demographic.
One show we both love is Pawn Stars. First off, we always get a good giggle out of trying to accurately say the name out loud. Humor comes cheap in our house. Second, we love the details and history behind certain items people drag in. And to witness the inevitable letdown when they realize they aren’t going to fund their kid’s college tuition by hawking great-grandma’s Smith & Wesson.
Every show goes something like this:
Store owner: “So, whatcha got here?”
“This here is a bonafide authentic official ham sandwich that JFK took a bite out of…you can see the teeth marks right there.”
“Okay. Well.” Laughs. “Do you want to sell it or trade it or what?”
“Sell it. I need a new liver, just hit the slots and went a little too far with the free drinks.”
“Okay, well, I really need to have my Ham Sandwich Expert come down and take a look first.”
Some guy with a tuxedo t-shirt and a tie comes in and appraises it at 50 bucks.
Store Owner: “Okay, so how much do you want for it?”
“Well, that expert said I could get 50, so I’ll take 50.”
“Um, no.” Laughs hysterically, bordering on contempt. “I need to make a profit here so….” Laughs again to add a dose of even more humiliation. “I’ll offer you a quarter.”
“But, it was JFK’s and look…if you hold it this way it looks like it’s in the shape of Elvis’ head.”
“Sorry, that’s all I can offer.”
“Okay, well. I think I’ll keep it, it might be worth more someday.”
Fascinating television at its finest. I thought maybe there weren’t enough of these “true life” shows out there so I came up with a few of my own to pitch to the History channel in case Pawn Stars starts to fizzle.
Yard Sale Whores: Follow lifelong friends Evelyn and Thelma as they scour the yards of America in search of the elusive salt and pepper shakers shaped like cats. Witness the intense haggling over an old Tony Bennett 45. “I’ll give you a quarter for it.” “Sorry, no can do.” “How about a quarter, a button and a stick of Trident?” “Sold!”
The Waiting Room A live show depicting real life moms in the doctor’s waiting room. As the hours tick slowly by, witness the unraveling of her sanity as one kid starts eating crayons, another runs in circles yelling, “Poopy! I gots to go poopy!” and yet another throws up on the receptionist.
Fed Up Fed Ex Drivers A slice of life in the average day of a Fed Ex Driver. Will he be able to deliver 3,000 packages to 600 homes in 8.5 hours? Will he be flashed by a desperate housewife? Will he ever tire of the joke, “Yeah, I’ve got your package right here, baby”? Will he have to pee in his water bottle? Stay tuned to find out.
Lawn Mower Wars Imagine a world where every man’s lawn is the true measure of his manhood. Follow a small subdivision in the heart of America as men compete to produce the plushest, greenest golf course anyone has ever seen. Watch the drama unfold as no matter what these men put themselves through, the lawn continues to grow. A tragedy of epic proportions played out every single day in the backyards of our country.
If I could convince my husband to get off the lawn mower, I know he’d watch that last one.
