Category Archives: TV Land

Getting to the Bottom of “The Sexiest Man Alive” Award (2012)

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People Magazine has named him 2012′s Sexiest Man Alive.  And because I believe it’s important to keep you all up to date on current events, I present you Channing Tatum in all his splendor.

The real truth is that I really just wanted this image of Channing Tatum on my front page for a while.

I know what you’re thinking.  Hey blogger, Channing’s 32 and, well, you’re not.  By the way, aren’t you married with daughters?  What kind of example are you setting for them, you cougar, you?  Refer back to Cougars, Jaguars, Bobcats…Oh My!  I’ve already covered that subject, thank you.

But since you reminded me, let me post one of those magical images here too.

I wholeheartedly agree with the voters of People Magazine.  Channing is well-deserving, particularly when he’s out on that dance floor.  He’s hunky, seems like a nice guy, can act, and then there’s that dancing thing again.

But I do have a point here.  It’s the award itself.

Every year, People Magazine names a new Sexiest Man Alive.  This raises some questions for me.

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About these ads

Can we get some more advertising on our TV screens, please?

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Television needs more advertising.  Specifically, there just aren’t enough pop-up ads invading my screen.  My world would be a better place if there were more logos, animated figures, and flashing ads to distract me from whatever trainwreck reality show I’m engrossed in at any given moment.

Multi-tasking is my life, and I don’t have nearly enough sensory overload to keep me in check.  So what if my entertainment gets invaded just a little bit?

I don’t really need to focus on that how-to project on HGTV, because I need to know now what is coming on next.  Or tomorrow.  Or next week.  I don’t really need to know who just punched whom on The Bad Girls Club. And if I’m watching Titanic for the 90th time, I already know Jack’s going underwater, so that animated guy dancing in the bottom corner pointing at Jack as he meets his demise is completely acceptable.

I will, however, need to be able to read the subtitles as I watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, so TLC, please take note.

As I watch the Real Housewives, there is currently a network logo in the lower right corner occupying a mere 15% of the screen.  There’s another ad running across the bottom with 3 animated women, advertising a new show I will now be determined not to watch.  And simultaneously, some other ad or logo popped into the upper left corner.

I’m perfectly capable of watching Ramona telling Heather off with Pinot in hand as I absorb all the subliminal messages being thrust at me as I do so.

I say give me more.  I mean, between the volume of paid commercials that run and the massive cable bill that I pay every month, I can’t possibly be contributing my fair share toward the costs of programming.

I estimate that there’s a good 30% of the viewing screen left to abuse, and it’s a travesty that it’s being wasted.  Maybe a banner ad across the time telling me when this show’s going to air again, since I didn’t get the full effect this time.  Perhaps a ticker tape at the bottom with the current weather conditions and stock market data. Get creative guys, and just force the reality TV stars to wear network logos on their clothing.  They could walk past billboards advertising your complete programming schedule.  They could be drinking their wine from glasses with a Bravo logo.  Honey Boo Boo could expose her belly to show a henna TLC tattoo.

Or you could take some cues from the world of internet advertising and zone in on me personally, displaying ads about that woman who lives in my city who has figured out how to banish wrinkles.  Or my favorite ever-present ad that promises to reveal the secret of getting rid of belly bulge.

Then maybe at the end of the show, just as I’m turning the TV set off, you could have a big red NetFlix ad lurking in the background that I’ll have to exit out of.  This would completely cap off my viewing pleasure.

A protest may be in order, and I’ll need some signs.  Lots of them, just to make sure I get my message across.

Things Charlie Sheen Might Say as a Judge on American Idol

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As news has spread that Steven Tyler is exiting American Idol, rumor has it that Charlie Sheen is in the running for a job as his replacement.  Where did this crazy rumor originate?

From the mouth of executive producer Nigel Lythgoe, himself.

Yes, Lythgoe told TMZ that he’d like to see Sheen and comedian Jerry Lewis on the panel next season.  I think we can all safely presume that Mr. Lythgoe is joking.  All of us, with the exception of Charlie Sheen himself, who seems to be taking it quite seriously.  Charlie has told TMZ the conditions of him accepting the “judicial” position.  Per Charlie, he just needs sign-off from the producers of his new FX serious “Anger Management” and a lot of dough.  Per Charlie:

If the numbers move the needle and ‘Idol’ matches 20% of my weekly salary for Autism Speaks, JDRF, and the Boys and Girls Club…then the hell with it.  As we say, pour the smoke.

Charlie Sheen remains as eloquent as always.  And this gets me to thinking…joke or no joke, what the hell could Charlie Sheen bring to the table as a judge for American Idol?  Let’s do some analysis.

Not being aware of any musical knowledge, experience, or any ability to pick out musical talent, I can only assume that the producers might want Crazy Charlie as a judge just to shake things up a bit.  To boost ratings.  To pique interest.  To talk wide-ass-open crazy talk.  Crazy talk that can only come from the mouth of Charlie Sheen.

I’ve had some of Charlie’s Tiger Juice and have come up with some common American Idol scenario’s, along with the type of comments that our beloved Charlie may spew out at the judge’s table.   All would-be quotes below are the figment of my own Charlie’s-in-my-head imagination, yet they’re all based off of quotes from the past. To be clear, they are not real (in case you missed my “subtle” disclaimer).  Here goes nothing:

1. On a media interview on why he’s on the judge’s panel at all -  “This show needs to be renamed the Charlie Idol show.  ‘Cause that’s what I am and I am the star.  The other judges are trolls.  They’re not on the drug I call the Charlie Sheen drug.  If they had tried it, they would be dead now.  Their faces would have melted off and the wannabe idols would then weep over their exploded bodies.  Just remember, I’m the only winner here.  Just me.  I win here…I win there…I win everywhere.  I’ve brought this show a tsunami of media and I will ride it on my mercury surfboard all the way to its death and cancellation.  And I will deploy my ordinance to the ground and will then pour Tiger Juice on its tombstone. “ 

2.  His first words on the premiere after being introduced by Ryan Seacrest  - “There’s a new sheriff in town.  He has an army of assassins.  He also has a 10,000 year-old brain and the boogers of a 7-year old.”

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The Maniacal Thoughts of an Insomniac

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I’ve barely slept this week.  An admitted night owl, sleep tends to take a back burner when there’s a lot going on.  I know that sleep is something I need more of, from an energy standpoint, but whoever coined the term “beauty sleep” was on to something. I’ll refrain from including a picture of myself with dreaded bags under my eyes.

But there are times when your sleep patterns seem to be out of your control.  That’s how it seemed for me this week.

Monday:  I’ve started hitting the gym hard again.  This means I’m in constant pain.  And since all good diets start on Mondays, I ate half of what I normally might and burned as many calories as my out-of-shape body would allow.  My armband that tracks my calorie burn tells me that I burned 660 calories in my workout.  My knees think I burned twice that.  And the sick irony of this is that the more I seem to work out, the hungrier I seem to be.

But you’d think I would have slept well after such exertion.  Instead it had an adverse effect as I found myself hypnotized by late night television and instead of dreamland, I was analyzing old sitcoms on TV Land.

As anyone who’s ever had a bout of insomnia knows, the evil alarm clock will taunt you endlessly.  With every flipping minute, the stress level builds and the possibility of sleep seems even more remote.  Minutes, hours, the dreaded PM to AM flip.  You know you have work in the morning, and you know tomorrow will suck a big one.  You toss, you turn, you get up to pee, you strain to relax, you cover your pillow over your head to drown out your partner’s seemingly louder-than-usual snoring and wish it was at least rhythmic.  You channel surf, you play with the volume, you toss and turn again.  This pattern could go on for hours.

And then you realize you’re hungry, and no sleep is going to happen until you do something about that.  So you break the “no food after 8 PM” rule.  When you get up to drag your aching knees downstairs to the kitchen, you will then spark the cat’s interest.  And by the time your belly is somewhat satisfied, said cat will be wreaking havoc in your bedroom as he plays trapeze artist across your furniture, knocking down all your little knickknacks.

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It’s a Sunshine Day!

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I’m ready to focus on happy things now, and for some reason this old song by the Brady Bunch keeps playing in my head.  And luckily, those little voices have quieted down.  I’ll tell you why this song has special meaning today in a bit, but for now, I’d like to take some time to reminisce about simpler times. 

I’m referring to the world of the Brady Bunch.  Where a fun-filled day meant potato sack races in the backyard.  Where using your Greenbax stamps meant learning to compromise and buying a family TV instead of a sewing machine that would enable you to make groovy clothes.  When a pay phone in the house taught you to limit your phone time and share the house phone with the rest of the family.  Where a broken nose was a life lesson in dating.  And where all your “problems” were resolved in a mere half hour. 

Wouldn’t it be great to have been a part of that?  I mean, BEFORE you found out that the family was closerthanthis when they later published their autobiographies?

Regardless, that saccharin-sweet, if slightly twisted, family unit stood together through thick and thin.  When they needed extra dough, they joined together and entered a talent show, wrote a hokey song about sunshine and walking in the park, put on their finest neon orange and yellow duds and WON the freaking contest.

Well, maybe that’s not as far-fetched as it seems.  Awards are rampant these days, after all.

And though my last few posts have centered around orange people, crying, and crazy fear, it seems ironic that I’ve been nominated for The Sunshine Blogger Award.  Not once, mind you, but twice!  Can I get a whoop whoop?  Or should I just settle for “Groovy”?

It doesn’t matter.  I’m tickled orange.  Marcia’s got nothing on me!

So I’d like to thank  Dawn of April.  She’s a fairly new blogger who shows great promise, and I look forward to watching her blog develop.  She’s real, she’s personal, and she’s a good writer.  A great combination. 

And another big thank you to Stuff I Can’t Put On Facebook’s Blog, another blogger I really enjoy.  You’re going to have to visit her blog to find out what “shit dipped in glitter” means.  Classic–she makes me laugh.

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In Search Of A Cure-All

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Friends, are you tired?  Run down?  Listless?

Do you poop out at parties?

Are you unpopular?

The answer to all your problems is in this little bottle – VITAMEATAVEGAMIN.

Vitameatavegamin contains vitamins, meat, vegetables, and minerals.

Yes, with Vitameatavegamin, you can spoon your way to health.  All you do is take a great big tablespoonful after every meal.  Mmmmmm…it’s so tasty too!  Tastes just like candy!

So why don’t you join all the thousands of happy, peppy people and get a great big bottle of Vitameatavegamin tomorrow!

That’s Vita-Meata-Vegamin! (wink)

So reads the script Lucy Ricardo was to recite in her Vitameatavegamin commercial.   She grimaced at the first taste, and was then required to do re-takes.  After quite a few takes, the taste grew on her to the point where she began to like it and started taking bigger and bigger gulps.  The problem was that the potion contained 28% alcohol, and with every spoonful, her speech became more and more mangled.  Our beloved Lucy became quite inebriated.

This episode, Lucy Does a TV Commercial, remains one of the top TV episodes of all time.  The premise that wannabe-starlet Lucy becomes a sloppy drunk is classic, and of course, Lucille Ball played the part of a drunken housewife in only the way she could.

But Lucy wasn’t the only sitcom female that unwittingly got tanked.

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Valentine’s Day, I’m just not that into you

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I’m not especially looking forward to Valentine’s Day.  I know some do, and that’s great.  I’m happy for those people.  Really. 

I’m not going to go as far as saying Valentine’s Day sucks though.  I’m sure some people would disagree that it does, but I’m not one of them.   On the bright side, I’m thrilled that I don’t have to decorate my home in heart decor.  I don’t have to buy everyone a lavish gift.  There’s virtually no controversy about the holiday.  No animals are harmed.  And I don’t have to lie about it to children.  This makes it a pretty harmless, low-maintenance holiday. 

Yet I’m just not that into it. 

For those who see February 14 as a whimsical day of boundless love, romance, and promise, you may not want to read further, as you will most certainly label me a fun-sucker.  And I readily admit to being able to focus all too easily on what’s wrong in a given scenario rather than what’s right.   But for those who find themselves in an apathetic state like me, who might appreciate some sarcasm thinly disguised as humor, feel free to indulge in cheap chocolates and follow along as I rattle off my list of…

10 Things That Bug Me About Valentine’s Day

1.  It’s a Hallmark holiday.  Let’s face it. Valentine’s Day is big business.  Visit any  Hallmark, Kohl’s, or Wal-Mart in the next few days, and you will find yourself in a line of women with candy, stuffed animals, and stacks of overpriced greeting cards.  Cards for the kids, for the parents, for the in-laws, nieces, nephews, and, oh yeah, the significant other.  The omission of men here was intentional, as the men don’t tend to step into this line until about February 13.  Victoria’s Secret will then be crammed with men quickly purchasing whatever the VS marketing people tell them we want (or maybe what they want).  And likewise, the local gas station will have a Valentine’s Day card rack strategically located near the beer cooler.  The resourceful  man there can also pick up some scratch-off tickets, an out-of-date romantic DVD, a silk rose in a box, and a Snicker bar to top it all off.

2.  Romance or Obligation?   If it’s the thought that counts, let’s consider what that thought is.   As the gift purchase becomes more last-minute, the word obligation seems to ring truer.  Somehow I can’t see Channing Tatum buying his beloved a gift that looks like it came from a gas station.  Such things certainly aren’t on any woman’s wish list, and even if they are, she’s totally capable of driving herself to the gas station for that Snicker bar.  Maybe this is cliché, but perhaps we should be showing our beloved boo the love year-round, rather than on this particular day because society has told us to. 

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My Uh-Oh Moment

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It happened last night.  I just happened to be reading the Wall Street Journal (OK, it was really a Star magazine) while seated, positioned toward a full-length mirror.  At some point I looked up, caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror, and had what I call my Uh-Oh moment.  Oprah has her Aha’s; I have my Uh-Oh’s.  This was the moment that I saw an image looking straight at me and thought “Who the Hell IS that?”.  This was then followed by  “Crap, that’s ME!”

I did not recognize this person in the mirror.  There was no way this person could be me.  Maybe I’ve been bathing in a huge tub of denial, but this person was too…how can I put this delicately?…ROUND!

Now it may seem strange.  After all, I see myself in the mirror everyday, in photographs, during swimsuit season, as I shopped for new jeans just last week, and all those other image-conscious events.  But why did my Oh-No moment happen at this particular moment?

Vertical = OK

The answer?  I had never seen myself seated before, at least not since the last 20 pounds came to visit and squatted right smack in my mid-section.  I spent the next several minutes playing this silly game where I’d take turns standing, then sitting, then standing again in an effort to figure out how/why body parts seem to spread out, then shift and smash together into this one more compact space.  Vertically, I didn’t feel so bad about myself.  Not ideal, but not disgusting. 

Sitting = Not OK

Sitting, however, I resembled a slumped over Buddha.  Now I knew I had increased a little in size.  The mandatory weigh-in at the doctor’s office makes that perfectly clear.  I knew my clothing size had gone up, but I had just convinced myself that I preferred a little roominess.   Besides, denim has gotten quite stretchy, and I’ve been apparently using the stretch feature to its full potential.  Yes, what started as a mere muffin top has now grown into a full-blown bacon/egg/cheese biscuit.

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I Want To Be A Real Housewife

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Yes, you read that correctly.  I want to be a housewife…a ”Real” housewife.  I’ve been watching the Real Housewives of New York, Orange County, New Jersey, DC, and Beverly Hills for some time now.  I’ve loved the glamour, the cattiness and the all-out brawls of these women from all regions of our country.  And while Jersey may give us a run for our money, South Carolina represents a slice of life that has yet to be portrayed.  I can fix that.

I know what you’re thinking.  What could possibly be entertaining about watching some Carolinian Housewives who aren’t rich, glamorous, or scandalous?  Well, I haven’t gotten this far in my seasons of faithful Bravo-viewing to not know that there are certain unwritten Bravo rules that I and my castmates would have to abide by. 

First and foremost, we have to fit the stereotype that people would be expecting from a South Carolina native.  I’m quite aware that the rest of the country may look at my beloved home state and expect to see a cast of uneducated, toothless, Walmart-shopping, redneck caricatures.  And maybe there are a few fitting that description in these here parts.  But seeing that reality television isn’t always so “real” and everybody needs their 15 minutes of fame, I’m willing to cast my dignity aside to play along with that caricature…to a point.  In short, it’s time to bring a little “redneck” to the Housewives franchise.

I present my case.  Bravo Andy, are you hearing me?

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What? No Wire Hangers?

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By now, you might have heard about the two adult Illinois children who brought a lawsuit against their mother.  Yes, a 2-year legal battle began when Steven Miner II, now 23, and Kathryn Miner, now 20, filed a lawsuit against their mother, Kimberly Garrity in 2009. 

According to Illinois court documents, Garrity and her husband, Steven Miner, Sr.,  had divorced in 1995, and the children had been living with their father.  The father had reportedly “tried” to talk Steven II and Kathryn from pursuing the lawsuit, however, he was one of the three attorneys who handled the case.

The basis of the lawsuit?  Bad mothering, negligence, insensitivity, and basically being a mean mom.

The suit cited examples that allegedly caused emotional distress to the siblings, including :

  • Making the then-7-year old boy wear his seatbelt with the threat of taking him to the police station
  • Failing to buy toys
  • Sent a greeting card the son didn’t like (with images of tomatoes, one special one with craft-store googly eyes, and probably not enough hugs and kisses).  Oh yeah, and there was no cash or check enclosed. 
  • Haggling over homecoming dress costs
  • Insisting the daughter return the loaned car by midnight on homecoming night
  • Refusing to take the daughter to an auto show and a car race
  • Insufficient/infrequent college care packages
  • Threatening to call the police after the boy took back a homemade jewelry box he’d given her as a gift, alleging he stole a diamond necklace that had been in it. 
  • Once smacking the boy in the head, giving him “recurring headaches”
  • Changing her name after her second marriage which caused attention for her daughter at school events

    Damages?  $50,000 to make all the emotional distress go away. 

The point was to make Kimberly Garrity accountable for less-than-perfect parenting.

The suit, however was dismissed by Cook County Judge Kathy Flanagan, although the mother is forced to pay her own legal costs.  The judge referred to the siblings’ allegations, while erratic and sometimes spiteful, as “petty grievances” and “not outside “all possible bounds of decency”.  It was also added that such a lawsuit would open the floodgates of lawsuits against parents.

Now I’m sure there must be more to this story, but I think we have all the facts we need to say… 

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