A while back, I was having a conversation with my boyfriend, and I said something which I think was quite witty (though I don't remember exactly what is was) and he asked me: "What's that from?" My everyday language revolves so much around quoting television shows that this person, who is supposed to always see the best in me, just assumes that everything I say -- especially when it's funny -- is a quote from someone on television.
A similar scenario -- but in the opposite direction -- unfolded shortly after that. I got a phone call from a friend who exclaimed, "Now I understand what you're saying all the time!" Despite this being a very ambiguous Joey Potter-ish lead in, I asked her what she meant, and she explained that she had finally watched a season or two of The Office and realized that nothing I said was original. Essentially, anything about me that was funny or interesting had been stolen from Michael Scott.
But I think we're all culprits. This same friend -- we'll call her Sarah -- cannot be involved in any situation without comparing it to or referring to a Friends episode. I have probably only seen about 10 or 15 episodes of Friends in my life (that is slowly being rectified) but I know, in detail, the plots of about 100 or more episodes. It's quite weird to turn on TBS, watch an episode of Friends, and say, "Oh, I know this episode," without having ever seen it.
Television seeps into our personalities in such a profound way that we're really able to make friends based on similar viewing interests. Feelings about a show can make or break a friendship. So that means, if you're really my friend, you're going to go watch all six seasons of Dawson's Creek. Right now.
*My apologies for slacking yesterday. I was so busy that I didn't even turn on the TV all day. It was tragic. If I'd known it would affect someone's mental health, I would have been more careful!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Episode 113
I have already expressed my shock and dismay about Uncle Jesse's 23-year-old-ness. While that makes me feel ancient, I have discovered another phenomenon that makes me feel quite young. As I begin to watch more and more shows that involve the lives of teenagers (no, I do not live in the past), I have discovered that these "kids" are actually significantly older than me.
A few examples (by the way, this is all based on IMDb, with a little cross-checking, so I can't promise exact precision): When Dawson's Creek began, Kerr Smith, who played Jack, was 27. He was playing a 16-year-old. It gets crazier: On Friday Night Lights, the two characters involved in one of the love stories are supposed to be seniors in high school. The actors are 29 and 30. Yes, Lyla Garrity is 29-years-old. Ryan, from The OC, was 25 when the show started, dating 17-year-old Mischa Barton as Marissa. That's awkward.
In addition to making me feel young, this validates the plethora of romantic dreams I manage to have about television characters, particularly those in high school. Yeah, he may play a 17-year-old in Friday Night Lights, but Tim Riggins is actually 28, so it's okay for me to dream. Sigh.
A few examples (by the way, this is all based on IMDb, with a little cross-checking, so I can't promise exact precision): When Dawson's Creek began, Kerr Smith, who played Jack, was 27. He was playing a 16-year-old. It gets crazier: On Friday Night Lights, the two characters involved in one of the love stories are supposed to be seniors in high school. The actors are 29 and 30. Yes, Lyla Garrity is 29-years-old. Ryan, from The OC, was 25 when the show started, dating 17-year-old Mischa Barton as Marissa. That's awkward.
In addition to making me feel young, this validates the plethora of romantic dreams I manage to have about television characters, particularly those in high school. Yeah, he may play a 17-year-old in Friday Night Lights, but Tim Riggins is actually 28, so it's okay for me to dream. Sigh.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Episode 112
I love game shows. I think everyone loves game shows. Who remembers Press Your Luck? Triple whammy, anyone? How about -- for you twentysomethings -- Nick Arcade (what graphics!) and Get the Picture? Who knew Mike O'Malley would ever make it outside of the Nickelodeon game show world? Anyway, these shows are all extremely compelling: people are winning money and prizes for usually doing absolutely nothing at all.
This past September, my childhood dream came true (absolutely not kidding) and I went to see a live taping of The Price is Right. My swanky LA friend and I wandered over to the set around 8:00 in the morning (show is at 3:00) and -- after 7 hours of waiting in line -- we ended up being the very last two people allowed in to the taping (sucks for the couple behind us, but hey, no mercy).
Anyway, we walk into this theater, and I was holding my breath in preparation for pure dreamlike awesomeness... and I'm still holding my breath. It seemed like the size of my shoebox studio apartment and the stage was the size of a breadbox (approximately). Check it out. Swank and I were sitting in the very last row, and I could have been on stage in 12 steps, max. "Could have" being the key words because I wasn't called on down.
There really isn't a point to the story, except that what we see on TV is rarely what's there in real life. Even when it is real life with real people, like on a game show, what you see isn't always what you get.
This past September, my childhood dream came true (absolutely not kidding) and I went to see a live taping of The Price is Right. My swanky LA friend and I wandered over to the set around 8:00 in the morning (show is at 3:00) and -- after 7 hours of waiting in line -- we ended up being the very last two people allowed in to the taping (sucks for the couple behind us, but hey, no mercy).
Anyway, we walk into this theater, and I was holding my breath in preparation for pure dreamlike awesomeness... and I'm still holding my breath. It seemed like the size of my shoebox studio apartment and the stage was the size of a breadbox (approximately). Check it out. Swank and I were sitting in the very last row, and I could have been on stage in 12 steps, max. "Could have" being the key words because I wasn't called on down.
There really isn't a point to the story, except that what we see on TV is rarely what's there in real life. Even when it is real life with real people, like on a game show, what you see isn't always what you get.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Episode 111
Yesterday I mentioned how TV made me realize that I tend to take the easy way out. Lesson learned. Well, TV has recently taught me another lesson, this one much more grave and powerful: I am awful at doing impressions.
It all started with the Dwight face and it has only escalated from there. I have this idea in my head that I can precisely replicate the facial expressions and voices of all of my favorite characters. I dressed as Pam for Halloween and thought I could make her little snickery-confused-are-you-serious face with little effort. Yet even after looking in the mirror for a good 10 minutes in an attempt to perfect it, I was sorely disappointed with my final performance.
Most recently, I've been trying to nail down Coach Taylor's one-liners from Friday Night Lights. I was so certain I had it -- you un'erstand me? -- until I remembered that not only am I not from the South, I'm also not a man, so I probably sounded absolutely nothing like him. Unfortunately, I can't link to a clip of him talking because I'm only on Season 1 and I'm afraid I'll see a plot spoiler. But I highly recommend you check it out because it's super bad-ass.
It was a disppointing realization that I am not the impressionist (?) genius I thought I was, but I haven't lost hope. In the end, I've decided that as long as it sounds good in my head, that's enough to keep me entertained...and it will, for the rest of the afternoon.
It all started with the Dwight face and it has only escalated from there. I have this idea in my head that I can precisely replicate the facial expressions and voices of all of my favorite characters. I dressed as Pam for Halloween and thought I could make her little snickery-confused-are-you-serious face with little effort. Yet even after looking in the mirror for a good 10 minutes in an attempt to perfect it, I was sorely disappointed with my final performance.
Most recently, I've been trying to nail down Coach Taylor's one-liners from Friday Night Lights. I was so certain I had it -- you un'erstand me? -- until I remembered that not only am I not from the South, I'm also not a man, so I probably sounded absolutely nothing like him. Unfortunately, I can't link to a clip of him talking because I'm only on Season 1 and I'm afraid I'll see a plot spoiler. But I highly recommend you check it out because it's super bad-ass.
It was a disppointing realization that I am not the impressionist (?) genius I thought I was, but I haven't lost hope. In the end, I've decided that as long as it sounds good in my head, that's enough to keep me entertained...and it will, for the rest of the afternoon.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Episode 110
It is absolutely mind-boggling to think about everything that goes in to making one episode of television. First of all, these people are working for days and weeks to create 21 or 42 minutes of television. What's more, we as the audience kind of assume that the characters' lives don't even exist off screen. Which they don't. Ok, nevermind. That's sad.
Last night, amidst a marathon of Friday Night Lights, there was an episode where all the characters are at a giant town fair -- Ferris wheel, fried dough, arm wrestling booth, the works. Where I grew up, the annual carnival (or jamboree as we so quirkily called it) was basically the biggest thing to happen in town all year. And these television people create one in order to get about 6 minutes of footage for one episode of a show that I'm now watching on my couch.
Think back to the days when shows were shot on sets. We never had a 360 degree view of the Lamberts' kitchen on Step by Step or Mr. Belding's office on Saved By the Bell. But now, we know every inch of the Bluth house and we can make a floor plan of The Office. Everything is so incredibly real. I just can't imagine what the director is thinking when he has to decide "should we erect a life-sized carnival with all the festivities, or should we just put up some balloons and call it a high school dance?"
I tend to take go with the easy way out when I make decisions. So I guess I'm not cut out for television.
Last night, amidst a marathon of Friday Night Lights, there was an episode where all the characters are at a giant town fair -- Ferris wheel, fried dough, arm wrestling booth, the works. Where I grew up, the annual carnival (or jamboree as we so quirkily called it) was basically the biggest thing to happen in town all year. And these television people create one in order to get about 6 minutes of footage for one episode of a show that I'm now watching on my couch.
Think back to the days when shows were shot on sets. We never had a 360 degree view of the Lamberts' kitchen on Step by Step or Mr. Belding's office on Saved By the Bell. But now, we know every inch of the Bluth house and we can make a floor plan of The Office. Everything is so incredibly real. I just can't imagine what the director is thinking when he has to decide "should we erect a life-sized carnival with all the festivities, or should we just put up some balloons and call it a high school dance?"
I tend to take go with the easy way out when I make decisions. So I guess I'm not cut out for television.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Episode 109
Sometimes we just have to leave the apartment. As much as I love television, a little fresh air (or food) does the body good. There are certain nights that I stay in no matter what. Thursday nights are those kinds of nights. If I were to miss Survivor, The Office, and 30 Rock, not only would I have to cry myself to sleep, but I'd have way too much TV to catch up on and it would stress me out. Television should not, under any circumstances, cause stress (which is why I'm having trouble getting in to Friday Night Lights, but more on that another day).
I do, however, have the internet. And the internet allows us to watch our shows -- often in HD and with limited commercial interruptions -- whenever we want. I'm not going to get in to the discussion of how this has changed TV culture in America (I'll leave that to Jason Mittell, who, by the way, is apparently my competition) but it's something to think about. Without any trouble, I can now pause LOST, rewind it to say "Was that THAT lady?!", and then start it again without having missed anything. At the very least, this leads to much less annoying shh-ing during shows (come on, we're all guilty).
And I will now leave you with a relevant and absolutely phenomenal commercial on TV for TV. I was going to sneak it in somewhere in the entry, but it's too good to risk you all not clicking on my all too witty links. If you watch enough TV, you've seen it anyway, but just in case: here you go.
Certain days, though, I take the night off from TV, for various reasons. The other night, I went rollerskating (not as fun as it sounds), thus missing the new episode of LOST. It sounds tragic, especially because of my newly renewed excitement for the show. But, as we know, there are now a plethora of ways to catch up.
I don't have TiVo (I actually had to just google it to see how it was spelled). TiVo is probably a bad idea for someone like me. As I said, sometimes we just have to leave the apartment, and if I had TiVo, it would serve the opposite of its intended function -- instead of feeling like I could leave the house even if something good were on TV, I would never leave the house because something good would always be on TV.
And I will now leave you with a relevant and absolutely phenomenal commercial on TV for TV. I was going to sneak it in somewhere in the entry, but it's too good to risk you all not clicking on my all too witty links. If you watch enough TV, you've seen it anyway, but just in case: here you go.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Episode 108
Sometimes I get really mad at the TV.
It often has something to do with Joey Potter being egocentric and condescending. Last night it had to do with the fact that that homewrecking nut job on Top Chef was almost given a second chance after they had finally booted her. I used to get really angry when an episode of Dawson's Creek would end on a sad note, and since the first thing that always flashed on the screen was "Executive producer: Paul Stupin," I would cleverly yell through my tears: "More like Paul Stupid!" What can I say, I'm witty.
Another common reaction for me is tearing up (read: sobbing) at a sad scene in a show. Now, being angry or sad or whatever other extreme emotion is all fine and well... until the commercial. How awkward is that moment when you have tears streaming down your face or you're screaming profanities at the TV, and then suddenly there's an ad on for some vaginally insertable birth control? If you're with someone, it's just embarrassing. If you're watching by yourself, it's almost more ridiculous because then you're just sitting there bawling, listening to the free credit report guy sing some catchy ditty, and reflecting on the fact that you're crying because Phoebe can't keep her babies.
It often has something to do with Joey Potter being egocentric and condescending. Last night it had to do with the fact that that homewrecking nut job on Top Chef was almost given a second chance after they had finally booted her. I used to get really angry when an episode of Dawson's Creek would end on a sad note, and since the first thing that always flashed on the screen was "Executive producer: Paul Stupin," I would cleverly yell through my tears: "More like Paul Stupid!" What can I say, I'm witty.
Another common reaction for me is tearing up (read: sobbing) at a sad scene in a show. Now, being angry or sad or whatever other extreme emotion is all fine and well... until the commercial. How awkward is that moment when you have tears streaming down your face or you're screaming profanities at the TV, and then suddenly there's an ad on for some vaginally insertable birth control? If you're with someone, it's just embarrassing. If you're watching by yourself, it's almost more ridiculous because then you're just sitting there bawling, listening to the free credit report guy sing some catchy ditty, and reflecting on the fact that you're crying because Phoebe can't keep her babies.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Episode 107
I have somehow managed to go a week without an entry devoted solely to The Office. There will be many, I'm sure, but I have to start somewhere. So here we go:
One of the most brilliant things about The Office -- and there are many -- are the facial expressions.
We're all familiar with Jim's famous quizzical camera face, Angela's glare, Kevin's grin, and Stanley's constant eyerolls. But more incredible are the facial expressions of all of these characters when we're not looking.
Pick an episode, any episode, and watch it all the way through, focusing only on Michael. You'll notice that he looks at the camera at least every 10 seconds, in a different way each time. He's looking for something from whoever is behind the camera, usually an affirmation for some fact he invented or a laugh to a joke that's (not) funny. Luckily for Michael, the person he's looking at behind the camera -- you -- is cracking the hell up.
While Michael is by far my favorite face-maker (Facemaker! who remembers that game?), there are plenty of face superstars on The Office. One of my all-time favorite faces is a Dwight original. Just after having driven into the lake, soaking wet, when Michael is freaking out (literally) about the guy who ate his chocolate turtles, the camera flashes to Dwigt (d-w-i-g-H-t) for just a millisecond, and the look on Dwight's face is absolutely amazing...and impossible to reproduce (I've tried. Many times).
In any case, no matter how much a blatant That's What She Said might appear to be the best moment in any given episode (and it's hard not to agree), the next time you re-watch all 4 seasons on DVD, keep an eye out for the smaller things. Michael Scott is not one for subtlety, but luckily for us, Steve Carrell is.
One of the most brilliant things about The Office -- and there are many -- are the facial expressions.
We're all familiar with Jim's famous quizzical camera face, Angela's glare, Kevin's grin, and Stanley's constant eyerolls. But more incredible are the facial expressions of all of these characters when we're not looking.
Pick an episode, any episode, and watch it all the way through, focusing only on Michael. You'll notice that he looks at the camera at least every 10 seconds, in a different way each time. He's looking for something from whoever is behind the camera, usually an affirmation for some fact he invented or a laugh to a joke that's (not) funny. Luckily for Michael, the person he's looking at behind the camera -- you -- is cracking the hell up.
While Michael is by far my favorite face-maker (Facemaker! who remembers that game?), there are plenty of face superstars on The Office. One of my all-time favorite faces is a Dwight original. Just after having driven into the lake, soaking wet, when Michael is freaking out (literally) about the guy who ate his chocolate turtles, the camera flashes to Dwigt (d-w-i-g-H-t) for just a millisecond, and the look on Dwight's face is absolutely amazing...and impossible to reproduce (I've tried. Many times).
In any case, no matter how much a blatant That's What She Said might appear to be the best moment in any given episode (and it's hard not to agree), the next time you re-watch all 4 seasons on DVD, keep an eye out for the smaller things. Michael Scott is not one for subtlety, but luckily for us, Steve Carrell is.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Episode 106
LOST has totally redeemed itself.
It was the creepiest, most mysterious, most compelling show on television for about a season and a half...maybe two seasons. Then suddenly, we started realizing that there were so many loose ends -- the monster, Rousseau's friends' "sickness", the non-aging creepy Other, the whispering, and the list goes on -- that were never, ever going to be tied up. We were restless. We wanted answers. And some of us just stopped watching.
This happens all the time. How many people do you know who used to watch LOST, but once all the loose ends started piling up, got bored and lost hope? Or how about when you gave up on 24 because you realized it was just the same 42 minutes every week? And how quickly did you get sick of the Joey-Dawson-Jen love triangle on the first two seasons of Dawson's Creek? I have heard the same complaints about nearly every show -- Grey's Anatomy, The Wire, and even Gossip Girl, in only its second season.
But some of us keep watching these shows. Why? Because we have faith in them. They are a part of us. And it is moments like this week's episode of LOST that make us realize it was worth the wait. Our answers are coming.
It may just be the addictive nature of television (which is why I forced myself not to watch the first episode of Hell's Kitchen this season). But I think at least some part of why we keep watching, even through the tough times, is the emotion we have wrapped up in these shows. For better or for worse, right?
As a postscript, is LOST actually spelled with all caps? I have had this discussion with several of my super-cool, non-dorky friends, and I'm not sure we've quite figured it out.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Episode 105
I despise Gilmore Girls.
My tiny hometown's small claim-to-fame was that a portion of the pilot for the Gilmore Girls was filmed there, and I have read that the feel for Stars Hollow (yeah, what?) is loosely based on our little downtown. To be honest, I think of it more as a claim-to-shame. I'm pretty tolerant when it comes to television -- I can watch an entire episode of Wife Swap without changing the channel -- but I literally cannot sit through more than about 30 seconds of Gilmore Girls. And believe me, I've tried.
In my hometown, as far as I know, people didn't sit around bantering with each other sardonically as if their indifference were a sign of true genius and hilarity. In Stars Hollow, that's all that ever happens. It's this back and forth one-liner obnoxiousness between that unflatteringly immature mother and overly precocious teenage girl that gets me. My head literally wants to explode whenever those two are involved in a conversation, which is every second of that plotless show (well, I shouldn't say plotless since it would be difficult for me to string together any plot from the 30-second clips I have floating around in my head). I mean really, are you seriously so witty that you can't calm down for two seconds without a comeback?
My tiny hometown's small claim-to-fame was that a portion of the pilot for the Gilmore Girls was filmed there, and I have read that the feel for Stars Hollow (yeah, what?) is loosely based on our little downtown. To be honest, I think of it more as a claim-to-shame. I'm pretty tolerant when it comes to television -- I can watch an entire episode of Wife Swap without changing the channel -- but I literally cannot sit through more than about 30 seconds of Gilmore Girls. And believe me, I've tried.
In my hometown, as far as I know, people didn't sit around bantering with each other sardonically as if their indifference were a sign of true genius and hilarity. In Stars Hollow, that's all that ever happens. It's this back and forth one-liner obnoxiousness between that unflatteringly immature mother and overly precocious teenage girl that gets me. My head literally wants to explode whenever those two are involved in a conversation, which is every second of that plotless show (well, I shouldn't say plotless since it would be difficult for me to string together any plot from the 30-second clips I have floating around in my head). I mean really, are you seriously so witty that you can't calm down for two seconds without a comeback?
Anyway, last night I was watching yet another brilliant episode of 30 Rock when something dawned on me. Not all back and forth one-liner exchange is bad. Alec Baldwin and Tina Fey have absolutely perfected the art of banter (See minute 2:50). I think it's the feigned indifference that gets me with the Gilmore girls. It's okay to care, people, and Liz Lemon and Jack Donaghy...they care. And it makes me care. About them and about television.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Episode 104
The eighteenth season of Survivor started tonight. I'm just going to write that out in numbers, in case you missed it when I esoterically spelled it out in the Latin alphabet: the 18th season of Survivor started tonight.
I can proudly say that I have watched 17 of those 18. Not to make excuses for the one I missed, but I'm going to anyway: I wasn't in the country and it was before hulu or online web-isodes. Anyway, there are always new twists on Survivor -- sometimes predictable, othertimes not -- but one thing stays the same season after season: Jeff Probst. He does get a new hat every time, but the rest of his outfit, and his entire persona, remain the same.
Last year, Jeff Probst won an Emmy. Aside from Ryan Seacrest, the other nominees didn't give him much of a run for his money (I'm not even going to begin talking about the Howie-Mandel-Emmy scenario for fear of getting violent). For example, when I first saw that Tom Bergeron was a nominee, I said, "For America's Funniest Home Videos?!" Turns out there's a little thing called Dancing with the Stars that I'd managed to forget about.
Tom Bergeron, Howie Mandel, and to a point, Heidi Klum (the other nominees), show me that being a Reality TV show host is not easy. It might seem like a fluff job, but these people (especially Seacrest on the live shows and Probst at tribal councils) have to be eloquent, witty, and charming without even taking a millisecond to think about it -- plus they have to deliver the cheesy slogans ("the tribe has spoken," "this is American Idol," etc.) in a way that doesn't make us want to throttle them.
Speaking of throttling, can you imagine Padma (Top Chef personalityless hot lady) coming up with a quick retort to a Simon Cowell snide remark? Just not possible. So here's to Reality TV show hosts, at least the good ones. Public speaking is the #1 fear in America, and these people do it for a living.
I can proudly say that I have watched 17 of those 18. Not to make excuses for the one I missed, but I'm going to anyway: I wasn't in the country and it was before hulu or online web-isodes. Anyway, there are always new twists on Survivor -- sometimes predictable, othertimes not -- but one thing stays the same season after season: Jeff Probst. He does get a new hat every time, but the rest of his outfit, and his entire persona, remain the same.
Last year, Jeff Probst won an Emmy. Aside from Ryan Seacrest, the other nominees didn't give him much of a run for his money (I'm not even going to begin talking about the Howie-Mandel-Emmy scenario for fear of getting violent). For example, when I first saw that Tom Bergeron was a nominee, I said, "For America's Funniest Home Videos?!" Turns out there's a little thing called Dancing with the Stars that I'd managed to forget about.
Tom Bergeron, Howie Mandel, and to a point, Heidi Klum (the other nominees), show me that being a Reality TV show host is not easy. It might seem like a fluff job, but these people (especially Seacrest on the live shows and Probst at tribal councils) have to be eloquent, witty, and charming without even taking a millisecond to think about it -- plus they have to deliver the cheesy slogans ("the tribe has spoken," "this is American Idol," etc.) in a way that doesn't make us want to throttle them.
Speaking of throttling, can you imagine Padma (Top Chef personalityless hot lady) coming up with a quick retort to a Simon Cowell snide remark? Just not possible. So here's to Reality TV show hosts, at least the good ones. Public speaking is the #1 fear in America, and these people do it for a living.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Episode 103
The other day, I was high on life, thinking how cool it is to be a twenty-something. Living the stress-free life (at grad school), hanging out with friends (on Facebook), going out (to the movies)...you know, the whole she-bang. [That's what she said?]
I'm in my twenties! I'm young! I still have time!
That's what I thought, at least. And then I picked up the remote, flipped to The Family Channel, and found out something horrible, something awful, something really, really depressing:
UNCLE JESSE IS 23 YEARS OLD.*
By the time Uncle Jesse was 23, he was living in a walk-up in San Francisco -- one that magically turned into a 5-bedroom house with a furnishable attic and basement, not to mention the enormous living room and kitchen, both equipped with vaulted ceilings. Oh, and he was the title player in a Beach Boys cover band.
(*For those of you who are thinking, well, Uncle Jesse was 23 but there's no way John Stamos was that young, think again. I immediately IMdB-d it: he was 24. Not any more comforting.)
I thought looking at a picture of Uncle Jesse now, in 2009, would make me feel better. I figured he's old, worn out, probably has some grey hairs (he has to have at least aged more than Aunt Becky).
Turned out I was terribly wrong.
I'm in my twenties! I'm young! I still have time!
That's what I thought, at least. And then I picked up the remote, flipped to The Family Channel, and found out something horrible, something awful, something really, really depressing:
UNCLE JESSE IS 23 YEARS OLD.*
Not many things can make a 24-year-old feel old. But this is one of them.
By the time Uncle Jesse was 23, he was living in a walk-up in San Francisco -- one that magically turned into a 5-bedroom house with a furnishable attic and basement, not to mention the enormous living room and kitchen, both equipped with vaulted ceilings. Oh, and he was the title player in a Beach Boys cover band.
(*For those of you who are thinking, well, Uncle Jesse was 23 but there's no way John Stamos was that young, think again. I immediately IMdB-d it: he was 24. Not any more comforting.)
I thought looking at a picture of Uncle Jesse now, in 2009, would make me feel better. I figured he's old, worn out, probably has some grey hairs (he has to have at least aged more than Aunt Becky).
Turned out I was terribly wrong.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Episode 102
“Next time on…”: those three words are often the only thing that prevents us from hurling something at the television after a will-they-won’t-they cliffhanger. There are many ways of presenting upcoming episodes (Arrested Development actually had fake “next time on” scenes that were really part of the current episode ["It's not my trick...it's my illusion!"]), some more ridiculous than others, but reality television is the worst culprit -- here, we see more previews and postviews than actual footage.
Last night on The Bachelor, Jason went to each of the remaining girls’ hometowns. One scene, in which one of the girls’ moms makes Jason hold and bury a dead dove (not even close to as awkward as when the same girl's dad told Jason that he should look to Jesus for how to choose his wife) was shown FIVE TIMES (I'll spare you the list), only one of which was not in a "next time on..." or other such preview.
Compared to fake real life, real real life seems pretty simple. Just one of the many advantages to watching Reality TV.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Episode 101
As this is a new blog, I will start with a new(ish) show: the new, and some would say not-at-all-improved 90210. I have to admit, I never watched the original, but I'm assuming it was basically identical, just with bigger hairdos. The first few episodes depict various chemically imbalanced Southern Californians whose lives are interrupted by the they-can't-possibly-be-that-perfect family from Kansas (by the way, how has Lori Loughlin not aged a day since Full House? This is weird). One of the more despicable characters is named Adrianna, drug-addict and evil sidekick to the hotter, blonder Naomi. In any case, we are immediately primed to hate Adrianna: she's rude to our country-bumpkin protagonist, she turns her back on her so-called best friend (aforementioned hot blonde), and she refuses the advances of the naively cute Navid.
Adrianna is the girl we love to hate. But suddenly, she kicks the drug habit, befriends the nice girl, apologizes to Naomi, and starts dating Navid. We were wrong. She's actually the most "real", down-to-earth person involved in all the Beverly Hills drama. So, when we find out she's pregnant from a pre-clean encounter (yeah, I know, but come on, it's a teen soap), we feel nothing but sympathy and support for the newly respectable Adrianna.
And we can't forget that there's a versa to this vice. How many of us loved Joey Potter and rooted for her against the skanky Jen Lindley from day one of Dawson's Creek? But then, as we get to know her, we realize that she's self-centered, condescending, completely unreasonable, and does a really annoying thing with her forehead when she's angry. Joey has the opposite effect as Adrianna: we used to root for her, but now we just can't.
I think anyone reading this (I can say that confidently since my readership currently totals about four close friends) can think of someone who they used to hate, despise even, who now seems like a diamond in the rough. Or how about someone you met and immediately wanted to be friends with, who you now realize just isn't your type. Why does this happen?
Our current love for Adrianna would give us the following possible answers for the first situation (why we go from hate to love so quickly):
1) This person kicked a drug habit. Heroin affects people in weird ways (who knew?).
2) This person became friends with someone you like: you (even if subconsciously) trust the judgment of your friend, and begin to see that they're not all bad.
3) It has nothing to do with this person changing and you realize (oops) it's your own fault: you were quick to judge (which, by the way, is not always a bad thing...some people who seem like tools just are).
And Joey Potter provides some insight for the second situation (moving from love to hate). I will avoid any obvious shots at Katie Holmes' recent life choices simply because I love her haircut and aspire to imitate it daily (good enough reason, right?):
1) This person told their boyfriend/girlfriend: "I'm not that much smarter than you" after she found out he was failing out of high school because his douchey Sheriff-dad didn't support his unique ways of learning...hence confirming that this person is condescending and arrogant.
2) This person claimed to have found their life's passion after one art class and threw a tantrum when someone called it a hobby.
3) See #3 from first list.
Anyway, I hope that this can make us all feel even a sliver more comfortable with our decisions to change our minds about people, for better or for worse. Put bluntly, some people suck, some people don't, and sometimes, you just can't tell.
And as a post script, don't worry: these posts won't all be "moral of the story" types. Some stories just don't have morals, especially when they're told on TV.
Adrianna is the girl we love to hate. But suddenly, she kicks the drug habit, befriends the nice girl, apologizes to Naomi, and starts dating Navid. We were wrong. She's actually the most "real", down-to-earth person involved in all the Beverly Hills drama. So, when we find out she's pregnant from a pre-clean encounter (yeah, I know, but come on, it's a teen soap), we feel nothing but sympathy and support for the newly respectable Adrianna.
And we can't forget that there's a versa to this vice. How many of us loved Joey Potter and rooted for her against the skanky Jen Lindley from day one of Dawson's Creek? But then, as we get to know her, we realize that she's self-centered, condescending, completely unreasonable, and does a really annoying thing with her forehead when she's angry. Joey has the opposite effect as Adrianna: we used to root for her, but now we just can't.
I think anyone reading this (I can say that confidently since my readership currently totals about four close friends) can think of someone who they used to hate, despise even, who now seems like a diamond in the rough. Or how about someone you met and immediately wanted to be friends with, who you now realize just isn't your type. Why does this happen?
Our current love for Adrianna would give us the following possible answers for the first situation (why we go from hate to love so quickly):
1) This person kicked a drug habit. Heroin affects people in weird ways (who knew?).
2) This person became friends with someone you like: you (even if subconsciously) trust the judgment of your friend, and begin to see that they're not all bad.
3) It has nothing to do with this person changing and you realize (oops) it's your own fault: you were quick to judge (which, by the way, is not always a bad thing...some people who seem like tools just are).
And Joey Potter provides some insight for the second situation (moving from love to hate). I will avoid any obvious shots at Katie Holmes' recent life choices simply because I love her haircut and aspire to imitate it daily (good enough reason, right?):
1) This person told their boyfriend/girlfriend: "I'm not that much smarter than you" after she found out he was failing out of high school because his douchey Sheriff-dad didn't support his unique ways of learning...hence confirming that this person is condescending and arrogant.
2) This person claimed to have found their life's passion after one art class and threw a tantrum when someone called it a hobby.
3) See #3 from first list.
Anyway, I hope that this can make us all feel even a sliver more comfortable with our decisions to change our minds about people, for better or for worse. Put bluntly, some people suck, some people don't, and sometimes, you just can't tell.
And as a post script, don't worry: these posts won't all be "moral of the story" types. Some stories just don't have morals, especially when they're told on TV.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Pilot
"How do you have time to watch television?"
I have heard that question more times than I'd like to remember. It's often a condescending question, posed by someone who thinks they're above you because they're spending their time reading Heidegger and -- dare I name drop him? -- Foucault instead of catching up on 30 Rock or watching the new episode of Top Chef. But what, may I ask, is the difference? I highly doubt that these dense, undecipherable philosophers can really help me more than the 21 glorious minutes of The Office every Thursday night, the 42 minutes of Freaks and Geeks I put on while folding laundry, or the 6-hour marathon of Arrested Development I watch when I'm literally just too lazy to turn it off. I am here to prove to everyone who might question the value of television -- from Full House reruns to Ace of Cakes to the new 90210 -- that we can learn more from TV than any academic or philosopher could ever teach us.
Before I begin, I want to address a few possible objections, that while valid, do not apply to me, and I therefore feel inclined to ignore:
1) "Television has led to an obese America." That's fine, but I watch 3-6 hours of television a day on average and weigh 115 lbs. (Don't worry, I'm petite.)
2) "Television kills brain cells." Maybe, but I'm in grad school, and believe me, reading about hermeneutics kills more.
3) "Television perpetuates negative stereotypes." I'll keep that in mind -- next time my plane crashes on a mysterious, possessed island, I'll make sure not to assume that the cute old white man couldn't possibly be married to that quirky black lady.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to watch every TV show out there -- even some of the more popular shows haven't made it on to my regular schedule -- and you'll soon find that I have my favorites; but I hope that every TV lover will find something here for them. And if I write something that seems nonsensical to you (e.g. objection #3) then you have a few shows to catch up on yourself. Feel free to put in requests for discussion, or better yet, burning questions about the meaning of life that you think Dawson Leery might be able answer better than Nietzche.
I have heard that question more times than I'd like to remember. It's often a condescending question, posed by someone who thinks they're above you because they're spending their time reading Heidegger and -- dare I name drop him? -- Foucault instead of catching up on 30 Rock or watching the new episode of Top Chef. But what, may I ask, is the difference? I highly doubt that these dense, undecipherable philosophers can really help me more than the 21 glorious minutes of The Office every Thursday night, the 42 minutes of Freaks and Geeks I put on while folding laundry, or the 6-hour marathon of Arrested Development I watch when I'm literally just too lazy to turn it off. I am here to prove to everyone who might question the value of television -- from Full House reruns to Ace of Cakes to the new 90210 -- that we can learn more from TV than any academic or philosopher could ever teach us.
Before I begin, I want to address a few possible objections, that while valid, do not apply to me, and I therefore feel inclined to ignore:
1) "Television has led to an obese America." That's fine, but I watch 3-6 hours of television a day on average and weigh 115 lbs. (Don't worry, I'm petite.)
2) "Television kills brain cells." Maybe, but I'm in grad school, and believe me, reading about hermeneutics kills more.
3) "Television perpetuates negative stereotypes." I'll keep that in mind -- next time my plane crashes on a mysterious, possessed island, I'll make sure not to assume that the cute old white man couldn't possibly be married to that quirky black lady.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to watch every TV show out there -- even some of the more popular shows haven't made it on to my regular schedule -- and you'll soon find that I have my favorites; but I hope that every TV lover will find something here for them. And if I write something that seems nonsensical to you (e.g. objection #3) then you have a few shows to catch up on yourself. Feel free to put in requests for discussion, or better yet, burning questions about the meaning of life that you think Dawson Leery might be able answer better than Nietzche.
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