Episode 2.501

After yet another long break, I begin Season 2.5, which will be precisely one episode long (unless of course something drastic happens on The Bachelorette finale). I feel like LOST, with really short seasons and really long breaks. Now that I think about it, that would be a good excuse not to write again until 2010. In any case, I will make this entry a bit longer to make up for it. And of course, I will return for Season 3 in the fall -- I imagine that NBC's spectacular fall line-up will give me plenty of material.

I learned on my hiatus that you can now watch television on the plane. I knew that you could watch pre-prepared TV on those little screens that the cooler airlines have, but I had no idea that you could actually watch satellite TV. I often bemoan flying primetime because I know I'll be missing my shows, but apparently that's no longer a problem. So, for those of you who thought that I might -- dare I say it -- read on the plane, you were wrong.

Instead, I watched reality TV. And for you haters of reality television, I finally found something that will change your mind. I am not talking about Fox's "More to Love" where they are showing that even fuller-figured people have the right to find love on national television (but not ugly people, apparently). Instead, the revolutionary moment came with this week's episode of Top Chef Masters, which was downright feel-good reality television. That might sounds like an oxymoron, but hear me out.

Not only were tears of joy shed (as opposed to tears of embarassment, heartbreak, and pure anger that are common to most reality TV), but the contestants looked out for and supported each other -- instead of sabotage (sandwich?), when it came time to choose the other chefs' ingredients, the contestants picked out only the finest. And they did it with heart. To top it all off the judges were...wait for it...really nice. For anyone who has ever watched even 5 seconds of Chopped, we know that condescending and crazy-ass psycho judges are common, especially in food-related reality shows.

Granted, a show where people are playing for charity -- as opposed to doing it out of greed, mental illness, and/or desire for fame -- allows for the possibility of this outpouring of happy reality. But the previous five episodes of the show were nothing like this week's: even people playing for charity usually still have the cross-me-and-I'll-kill-you drive to win.

Try watching this episode immediately after watching Paris Hilton's My New BFF and the normalcy of it all becomes even more overwhelming. No really, all you reality TV haters, try it. I dare you.

Episode 222

I haven't had time to devote to the blog recently, but I have a good excuse: TV. Since my last post, I watched the first half of Season 1 of the original Beverly Hills, 90210 and the first eight episodes of Gossip Girl. Now, while I wait for discs 3 and 4 of GG on Netflix, I write.

Watching these two shows back to back is pretty fascinating. The parallels are never-ending, but the one notable discrepancy is that in the 90s, the dorky cute guy had not yet made an appearance in teen soaps. So while we have the Brandon/Nate and Dylan/Chuck parallels, GG's Dan is definitely a character of the 2000s. Although something tells me Chuck wouldn't be caught dead wearing overalls with one strap undone. Only Luke Perry can pull that off.

The development from 90210 and the rest of its cohort to Gossip Girl (with Dawson's Creek somewhere in between) is crazy. What people thought was scandalous in 1990 isn't even a blip on the radar in 2009. Yet the people who create these teen soaps manage to continue to push the envelope...and it is awesome. But I definitely won't ever let my children watch television.

Episode 221

Good news! Top Chef has come to its senses -- at least for this season -- and no longer employs Padma, the worst television host in history, second only to you-know-who. Do you really want this person hosting a show that is supposed to display actual culinary expertise?

And as the new season of The Next Food Network Star has begun, I remember why it works, even though it's cheesy. In Top Chef, it's a bunch of people who can cook, but most of whom are total d-bags or really bitchy -- so it's fun to watch, but for the wrong reasons. The Next Food Network Star is fun in a less conscience-gripping way, because the people are actually pleasant, for the most part. Moral of the story: Fabio should have chosen The Food Network, not Bravo.

Episode 220

I just experienced the best 9 minutes and 31 seconds of my summer. It's too bad it will all be downhill from here, but it was worth it. Zack Morris makes an appearance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and it is absolute brilliance.

There is a small group of people that actually know exactly what Zack Morris is talking about throughout that whole interview (I particularly liked his shout-out to growing up in Indiana and then moving to California with his two best friends...and his principal). I'm going to estimate this group as those who were born between the years 1980 and 1986 (if you have any objections, let me know). This is particularly the most loyal fans, those who followed "the gang" through Jr. High, high school, college, and all of the various summer, wedding, and vacation specials. I mean, how many different island babes will Slater date before he finds the right one?

And apropos to my most recent post, I like that Zack hasn't forgotten his 1502 SAT score that made him Stansbury material...the Harvard of the West. You'd think that's the kind of thing they only say on sitcoms. You'd be wrong.

Episode 219

The entire significance behind my blog has suddenly been undermined. This blog was born out of spite for the many pretentious Stanford people who scoffed at the fact that I had time to watch television. But now I am realizing that even television itself has a idealized vision of Stanford.

Both DJ Tanner and Jessie Spano want nothing else their senior year except to attend [gasp] Stanford University. That's the problem with these west-coast set sitcoms, they act as though Stanford is all that exists. I know for a fact that none of the Dawson's Creekers (not even "I'm fourth" Joey) even thought about going to Stanford, and something tells me that the Gossip Girl kids haven't either: normal east coast people would much rather be an English major at NYU than a d-bag major* at Stanford.

Moral of the story, Stanford is so early 90s. Let's move on, people. 30 Rock has the right idea.

*Disclaimer: I refer only to the graduate degree of d-bag; I can't speak for the undergrads.

Episode 218

So many things about Jeopardy annoy me. For example, all of the contestants. Another example: Alex Trebek. Within the Alex Trebek category, it annoys me how he is the only person who could sound pretentious simply reading category titles, how he pronounces the word genre as if it were a French word that had not been commonly adopted into the English language, and how he tells contestants that they would have know the answer "if only you had been to [fill in wannabe-world-traveler location here] recently."

What really get me the most though -- and this is a tough contest because it all makes me so mad -- are the absolutely ridiculous stories the contestants tell after the first commercial break when they are introducing themselves. It usually goes something like this:

Alex: So, I see here that you one time encountered a sticky situation on vacation...?

Annoying contestant: Yes, I was on vacation with my family and we rented a boat, but after we docked it at a remote island, we realized we didn't know how to turn it back on. So we were stuck for a while.

Alex: Well, you'll never make that mistake again...

Have you ever read anything more horrifically boring in your life? I'm not sure what exactly is going on behind the scenes at Jeopardy but it seems like they give all the contestants a form to fill out that just says: "Please list here the five most uninteresting things that have ever happened to you" and then they choose the least relatable of all the stories. Add in a dose of Alex Trebek trying to deliver some wit and... there you have it.

Episode 217

Last Monday was a bad night for Jason Mesnick, famed wrong-choice Bachelor. Melissa, who took the runner-up spot after Jason changed his mind, earned the title of sexiest woman in America by performing the most incredible and mind-blowing moves on Dancing With the Stars (somehow Shawn the Chipmunk Johnson won the actual title but that's irrelevant). Then, immediately after, Jillian, second runner up, had thirty men fighting over her on the new season of The Bachelorette. And Jason is left watching it all on TV with Molly. By the way, if you type Molly into a google search, Molly Malaney (Jason's choice) comes up first. Before Molly Ringwald. This is weird.