Tag Archives: tv

Reality (Sound) Bites

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Reality tv is everywhere. We all watch it. But as an actor, I hate the majority of this crap. Despite the fact they are generally just boring and mind-numbingly stupid, these cheaply produced freak shows replace scripted tv and literally take jobs away from real actors, writers, directors, crew and so on. But that’s another bitch session. Most of the reality shows I’ll watch are some sort of competition like “American Idol” or “So You Think You Can Dance” or “Iron Chef”. You know, things that require, what do you call it? Oh yeah, TALENT! Damn, how I love Iron Chef. mark-dacascos

(Today’s secret ingredient is…hotness!)

I almost never watch shows that just follow idiots around for no damn reason or shows where people are proclaiming to be trying to find love, when in truth the most they find is a brand new case of underpants critters. But regardless of the genre of reality craptitude, there are a few key phrases you hear on every one of them. And each time I hear some desperate loser utter these words, I just laugh more and more. And also start channel surfing for reruns of “Married…With Children” or some other similar show that has more intelligence than the Real Housewives of I Don’t Give a Damn.

I’m the Best (Designer, Singer, Pole Dancer). I’m Going to Win.

For all of these shows, the producers will do a pre-interview with the contestants and edit in clips from the interview during the actual show. At this time, before these people have met the competition or even realized what will be expected of them, they are happy to proclaim they are the best at their chosen profession or talent. Nobody can touch them. They’re making negative $35k a year doing this in Dogpatch, Nebraska and it is so damn obvious they are the master of their domain. They have got this. No competition. Everybody else go home. We hear Wayne Jake “Bud” Smeggledon (of the Earwig County Smeggledons, naturally) tell us it’s all over and he is going to take home the big prize.  Then we get to see Bud in action. He’s a moron. He’s freaking out, unable to find his tools or even remember which end of the tractor he has to fix before he can race it to the corral where they keep the pig he has to put in a tire and roll to the finish line. Or however they do these things on TLC. The evil and awesome editors intersperse Bud’s bragging and speechifying about his untouchable tractor skills with camera shots of him chasing his runaway tractor across a wheat field. Reality show gold. And, surprise! Bud loses. Believe me, as soon as you hear some ass talking about how he is the winner and there’s no possible way he could lose, call your bookie and bet on the other guy.

broken__tractor

(Sumbitch. I ain’t never…hm, must be one of them Commie tractors.)

Personal Sob Story

Another very important part of these tool-o-ramas is the personal sob story. Nobody can just go on one of these shows and say, “I’m here for the money and/or exposure. I’ve tried every other avenue and failed. You are my last resort to make my dreams of fame and fortune come true.” Nobody wants to hear that shit, no matter how honest it may be. If you are on a reality competition show, you better be doing it for some sort of tragedy. Sick/dying/dead old people or kids is the best reason, followed by wanting to use your prize to do something nice for your mom or grandma who sacrificed so much to get you to where you are today. Making a testicle of yourself on national television. At the far end of the spectrum, doing the show for revenge against bullies or ex-lovers is an acceptable, though a less sympathetic story. man-and-dog

(When I win that $500 grand prize, Lurlene’ll be sorry she walked out on me, leaving me nothing but Rufus and this sweet ass bandana.)

To share a story with you, I tried out for a show called “Rupaul’s Drag U”. It’s a show where Rupaul and her protegees take regular (read “unfortunate looking”) women and make them up to look like amazingly beautiful drag queens. I had no reason for doing it other than it sounded like fun. The producer asked me if I wanted to show off a weight loss or deal with a weight gain or if I was having a mid-life crisis, or if I was a tomboy who never wore dresses or if there was a man in my life I wanted to see what he was missing. My answers were all no. I just wanted to dress up and be fabulous. Surprisingly, I didn’t get on the show. Rupaul even said, “She’s not really in need of a makeover.” Which I think means I’m not woman enough to be a drag queen. Dammit.  Jeez, can’t I at least get a gallon of glitter as a parting gift?

Nobody Wants This More Than Me

You have got to be freaking kidding me. This is such a stupid and selfish statement. These people that say there’s nobody in the whole world who wants to win this dumb show more than them. Even though they’re in the same room with anywhere from 3 to 3,000 people who feel the exact same way. And this is because you know how everyone thinks? Because you’re just so damn special that your dreams are more important than anyone else’s? Because you’re willing to do anything to win? You don’t know what’s in somebody else’s mind and heart and you certainly don’t know that they’re not prepared to go farther than you to win. There’s always someone younger, prettier, smarter, faster and willing to do more to get what they want. I used to think I wanted to be a professional actor in L.A. more than anyone in the world. Until I got offered a recurring featured role as a whore on the HBO series “Deadwood”…if I’d be willing to go topless. Would they still be willing to take me when I showed up on set without any teeth because my parents knocked them down my throat for even considering such a thing? Hm. Guess I didn’t want it that badly after all because after much thought of the aftermath of such a decision, I realized my girls are not for sale. But of course, there were women who did want it badly enough to show their ta-ta’s. And kudos to them for doing it. They wanted it more than me. So saying something as empty and banal as “Nobody wants this more than me” is idiotic and just emphasizes the slowly fizzling brain cells that brought you to reality tv in the first place. So just stop saying that because chances are, there is someone who wants to win more than you.

anna-nicole-and-old-husband

(Like Anna Nicole. She really, really, really must’ve wanted it. Really…yeesh!)

Thank You For the Opportunity.

So as we get to the end of the episode or finale of this reality competition we’re watching, our pompous, arrogant, self-proclaimed number one contestant who is the best at everything and wants to win this more than anyone, loses. Looking stunned because (a) he really did think he was going to win despite his pathetic lack of talent or skill, (b) he gave the producers that private, nude audition they requested, even doing the doggie barks they asked for and everything, and (c) his mom told him he was the handsomest, smartest and most talented special guy she ever knew. And moms are never wrong! But they’re trying not to burn bridges. Like maybe after publicly getting the boot on the show, one judge or producer will find them next week and beg to offer them their own show. You gotta play nice, right? So as our loser gets ready to leave, he smiles at the judges, who are already halfway out of their seats to get to the after-party, and says “Thank you for the opportunity.” This always cracks me up because the look on the loser’s face is always very strained, like a cross between some severe constipation and the urge to bitch slap the judges for denying them their dream. “Thank you for the opportunity” is reality show code talk for “Fuck you”. I would love to see some loser actually say that to the judges one time. It would be epic!

project runway

Heidi Klum: I’m sorry, Sven. You’re out. Auf Wiedersehen.

Sven: What?! I’m out? Are you fucking kidding me? Screw you, Heidi. I have more designing talent in my pinky nail than you have Botox in your face. And that’s saying something. You know what? Fuck you. I’m outta here. And don’t try to kiss me. Keep your filth-spewing, no-talent mouth off of me. They ought to call this show Project Dumb-way.

But the losing contestants don’t say those awesome things. And that’s because…

You Haven’t Heard the Last of Me!

You gotta hand it to some of them though. They don’t give up easily. After being soundly rejected on national television, they get their exit interviews with the producers, at which time they will let us know, “I’ll be back. You’ll be hearing my name again!” Guess what, bobo? No, we won’t. I cannot name a single singer, dancer, model, designer, chef, actor, gator wrangler, drunk or desperate-for-love gutter slut that I saw again after they got tossed off the show they embarrassed themselves on. If you can’t play the reality show game of making yourself memorable with either your amazing talent, your sob story or how very badly you want this more than anyone, then I thank you for the opportunity to watch your public humiliation but your time is up. I will not be hearing from you again. Because if you can’t make it in lowest ranks of depravity on reality tv, you have very little to zero chance of making it through the beast itself that is the true entertainment industry. So yes, I actually have heard the last of you. And I am glad. Now, I can invest myself in the next crop of hopefuls as they whine, cry, rage, fail spectacularly and make glorious asses out of themselves for my viewing pleasure.

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(Now shante’ and get the hell out. Can I get an “Amen” up in here?!)

 

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Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: A Tale of Bullying, Runaways and Fighting Back

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I know we all watch the claymation tv special “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” each holiday season. It’s a classic. As with all holiday tv specials, as I watch it at home, my mom is blessed with my continuous amusing jokes, questions and comments. But since this is the season of giving, I decided to write all this down for y’all so you can experience watching it with me. So let’s pull up a comfy seat (this might be a long one) and enjoy “Christa’s Christmas Commentary”. Ha! Look! I used C’s for all those words just like a Kardashian uses K’s. Except, oh yeah, I KNOW HOW TO FUCKING SPELL! God, I hate them. Moving on…buscemi

(More attractive to me than Kardashians…and he has actual talent)

The show starts with Burl Ives as a snowman kinda gliding across the snow at the North Pole narrating for us about the bad weather. Because blizzards at the North Pole are a new thing? I’m not sure if they meant the snowman to look like Burl or if he just happens to look like a snowman. Eerie coincidence just the same.

Then we go to Mrs. Claus bitching at Santa for not eating enough. She wants him to be fatter. “Do it for the children.” Manipulative much? He is a bit skinny but I wouldn’t be so hard on an old man with an obvious eating disorder. To escape her endless nagging, Santa goes out to the caves to see Donner’s new baby. I would think Santa would keep the reindeer in some sort of stable or barn, but what the hell do I know. Cave it is.santa pets rudolph

(Santa slumming with the help.)

Rudolph appears a bit drunk or something. He can hardly stand up and he slurs “Saaan-ta?” and gazes vacantly through squinty eyes. But hey, we’ve all been there, right? No judgment here. Santa vaguely praises the kid and says he should make a good addition to his slave team. Huh? Oh! Sleigh team. Whatever. Then Santa sings a song about how he’s the King of dinga lings. Not something I’d want to advertise. Oh. Mom says it’s King of jinga lings. What’s the damn difference? Six of one, really.

Since Rudolph has this weird glowing nose, Donner decides that he has to do something to cover it up. Let’s not take him to a doctor or anything. I guess Santa’s health plan isn’t all that it could be. But why does his nose make that God awful noise? That’s very disturbing. And why doesn’t anybody notice it? It’s way more annoying than the glow.nose makeup

(You’re more embarrassing than Uncle Stephanie. And that’s saying something.)

Moving on. Elves building toys: There’s a real asshole Boss Elf and a bunch of singing elves making toys. Awwww, totes presh. (That’s teenager for “totally precious”.) We then meet Hermie Elf who doesn’t want to sing or make toys but he wants to be a dentist. No crime in that, is there? Oh, apparently it is a crime because Boss Elf is handing Hermie his ass. Because Boss Elf’s way is the only way and I’m not going to make a whole deal over the obvious similarities to close minded people wanting those who are different to adjust to their lifestyle. Wait, isn’t Hermie in that boy band, One Direction, now? They call him Niall. You can tell by the hair.hermieniall

(Yep…I think we have a winner!)

Hermie then sings a song “I’m just a misfit. Why am I such a dumb shit?” or something. Stick to dentistry, my friend. Singing’s not really your bag. Rudolph sings a reprise of the same thing. I feel a real personal kinship coming up between these two. Ooooo, foreshadowing.

Commercial time. Thank God. I gotta pee.

Ok, we’re back. Time for elf practice. Hmmm, have you ever noticed the boy elves can be fat and ugly and wear glasses but all the girl elves are small, blonde and cute? That’s some bullshit, right there! The North Pole Human Resources Department: Diversity Division has really dropped the ball on their hiring practices. But good old Hermie skipped elf practice. OOOoooo…Boss Elf is so angry. What’s his damn problem? He needs some sweet loving or something. Hermie’s running away. Yay! Fight the establishment, Hermie!

Now it’s time for reindeer practice. Why is Rudolph talking like that? Like he’s all stuffed up. It’s just a little dirt on your nose. I put make up on my nose every day and I talk fine. Lay off the drama, Rudy. So right before it’s Rudolph’s time to jump, some girl deer, (Faline, Celine, Clarice, Sharon ???), all slutted up in Kardashian level makeup (I just hate them so damn much!) flirts with Rudolph and he jumps higher than everyone.sharon

(Wanna guide my sleigh, nose boy?)

Sharon collects the money from her friends from where she bet she could give Rudolph his first boner.  Oops. Rudolph’s nose make up comes off. Santa gives Donner a proper dressing down for not drowning his son when he was a baby like he should have. So Donner should be ashamed of his kid’s birth defect per Santa? Where the hell was Peta during the filming of this thing?

Clareen gives Rudolph some lip service about being fine the way he is and the forest animals roll their eyes behind her back. But Rudolph’s not buying her shit and decides to run away. Oh, look! It’s Hermie. “Let’s be independent together.” he says to Rudolph. Umm, independent means doing it alone, stupid.needy

(Independently needy.)

Commercial break: Time for a snack. I’m out of popcorn and liquor. Dammit.

So on the run, Rudy and Hermie meet Yukon Cornelius. That’s too much to type, so I’m calling him Cornie. I think he’s on something. He’s tweaking pretty hard. And he keeps licking his pick ax. Freak. Cornie has a St. Bernard! I shall call him St. Corn. So now the little trio is traveling together. Cornie pulls the sled and the dogs ride. Cool. I’m liking this dude.

Now the Bumble chases them briefly.mad bumble

(Feel my wrath…briefly.)

They escape. Ok. That was kinda pointless. Rad special effects, though. (insert sarcasm) Now if, as Cornie says, a Bumble’s one weakness is sinking in water, how the hell did he get out of the water when he fell off the edge of the iceberg? Yeah. Think about it. Cornie sings about silver and gold which I think he needs to buy more of that sweet smack. Even his mustache is high.cornie 2

(Look at St. Corn’s sweet little barrel!)

Back home, Donner pretends he cares (because the script tells him to) and says he’s going to look for Rudy. It’s all your fault he left, dick! But the women are supposed to stay home because this is man’s work. Of course, the women don’t stay home. They go out on their own because they are stupid women and I’m sure this will cause mad trouble later.

The gang has found their way to the Island of Misfit toys. So far we have eating disorders, abused baby reindeer, misogyny, bullying, runaways, drugs and now handicapable toys. Yep, I’m feeling the spirit y’all. What’s wrong with the doll? Why is she there? Is she like a bitch or something? And I don’t see what’s so wrong with a spotted elephant. Shit, kids this year are screaming for stuffed animals with plastic backs that put on a psychedelic light show before bedtime. Spots ain’t nothing but a thang. And if the water pistol is full of jelly, just wash it out and add water. It’s not brain surgery.misfits

(Oh God! The Horrors!)

This island reminds me of Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Animal Sanctuary from South Park. Omg, was this thing stolen from South Park? Eh, probably not. Or I’m sure they would’ve sued.

So after the Lion King, who’s sick of the whining of all the misfit toys, makes the Traveling Trio promise to bring Santa to clear the trespassers off his land, they go to bed. But then Drama Queen Rudolph decides to play the martyr and runs off on his own. Because his nose will make the Bumble come back. Yes, Rudolph. The Bumble’s whole life revolves around YOU. Pfffttt. And I’m supposed to be sad because you wandered off in the freezing wilderness like an ass? Not bloody likely.

Commercial Break:  Why do I have to pee again?

Back to the show. Rudolph has grown up. How long was he gone? He’s got a huge rack of antlers and his voice has dropped. Among other things, I’m guessing (tee-hee). He goes home because…fuck the wilderness. Santa says his parents have been gone “months” looking for him. Either Rudolph grew hella fast or it took them a while to really start looking for him. I’m guessing option B on this one. So now Rudy has to go searching for the searchers.santa rudolph

(You best go find those damn troublemaking women and give them a taste of the back of your hoof.)

And of course he finds them in the first place he looks. The Bumble’s house. Why look there? Rudy says he “knew just where to look”. Why? Cuz women always find trouble? Wtf? Bumble’s got Sharon in his fluffy, giant fist. Yay! Eat her!venison

(Mmmm, venison.)

Cornie’s here! The Bumble gets knocked out by Cornie dropping a rock on his head. Haha, they put x’s on the eyes when he’s knocked out. He’s not out for long! Bumble’s up! Look out! He is pissed! Oh wait. His teeth are gone. Every single one of those giant pointy teeth. It took Hermie like literally 12 seconds to remove all his teeth. Damn, that’s impressive. Hey! Why is Cornie pushing Bumble over the edge? Just to be an asshole? Really? Well, that was mean. But Bumble took Cornie with him, so that oughta learn him.

Now Rudolph’s gotta get those useless women back to Christmas Town. Where did he learn that stone age crap? Wandering around in the wilderness and becoming a man, I guess. They’re back in town just as everyone’s settling down for the end of this saga. Cornie’s back with his sled full of drugs and dogs. Hi, St. Corn! Bumble’s a pet now so I guess they worked something out.tree

(Don’t make me come up there!)

It’s obvious the writers are getting tired (so am I) and are just trying to wrap this shit up. Elves are singing Holly Jolly Christmas! You know the one..”I don’t know if there’ll be snow, so have a cup of beer”…and then it goes “Somebody waits for you, kick her once for me!” That song. The elves are now partying. Santa’s getting ready to head out. Santa’s fat in like mere minutes. Half hour tops. Score one for the Mrs. That can’t be healthy. Maybe Mrs. Claus needs to deal with her insecurity issues. You can’t keep him fat so he won’t stray, honey. It just won’t work.mrs. c

(It’s that biscuit down your throat or my foot up your ass, boy.)

Anyway, off they go. I think Rudolph farted on all the jerks who were mean to him and are now behind him in the sleigh. Haha, that’s funny. Wait a minute…I just thought of something. If Rudolph can’t control his glow (which i’m sure he would have earlier in the show if he could) how can he assure Santa a safe ride? His light could go out at any moment!sleigh ride

(Ummm, Rudolph? One quick question…)

Or maybe he learned to control it during his lion king puberty. I don’t know. That part could’ve used a montage, come to think of it.

Oh God. It’s still not over?! Santa has to get the stupid misfit toys. Santa usually comes in the chimney and puts toys under the tree, but the misfits have to jump out of the sleigh with umbrellas. Sucks to be them.

The end. Finally. But I still have so many unanswered questions. Did Santa get the weight back off and if so, how? Did Rudy and Felice get together? Did Rudolph and Donner fix their tenuous relationship? Were the misfits accepted at their new homes? Do new misfits go to the island? How much kibble does Cornie feed the Bumble? Do his teeth ever grow back and he attacks Cornie and rips out his throat for pulling his old teeth and pushing him in that ice crevice? What did St. Corn get for Christmas? Oh well, maybe they’ll answer all that next year.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!group]

**In memory of my precious Buttons. The best Christmas gift I ever received.

A Day in the Life

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I’ve now been back home for a month. I’m very happy to be here but it’s such a huge change from how I’ve been living my life for the past nine years. Everything’s much slower. The weather’s been crazy. The hurricane came through. There’s leaves everywhere. I’ve been colder the past 2 weeks than I’ve been in the past 5 years. I’m still looking for a job (eek!) but more on that later. I’m so used to it taking me forever to get anywhere, I’m showing up a good 30 minutes early to everything from job interviews, to dinner with friends, to choir practice. I end up sitting in my car, playing on my phone and singing with the radio while I wait for an appropriate time to arrive. I might get some weird looks, but they remember me, that’s for sure. Trust me. 5-10 miles in Roanoke is wayyyy different than 5-10 miles in L.A.

(I’d work hard for the money. If I had a job for some money. I’d work hard for the money la-la-la-blah-blah-right.)

Anyway, here’s how I’m rolling these days…

Accomplishment: Impossible

I always thought if I had a lot of spare time, I could accomplish so many things. I figured my house would be constantly spotless. Now, the house is clean but it takes so much more effort to heave my bulk off the couch to do chores than it did when I was busy. I partially blame it on the reclining sofa. How did I ever sit on a couch without reclining before now? I thought I’d write 50 hilarious blogs. But it turns out writing blogs really cuts into the time I need to spend checking the mail and proving the Internet wrong by showing that 15 shots of vodka in a day won’t really put me in a coma. And I see celebrities always working out and having fine bodies and stuff. Well of course, it’s easy for them. They don’t have to work 9-10 hours a day, 5 days a week. If I didn’t have to go to work, I could exercise all day, too. Jerks. Not appreciating the plight of the working man. The truth is though, it hasn’t exactly “worked out” that way. Hahahaha, I made a pun. I’ve been home 33 days and the most exercise I’ve gotten is taking the trash to the bottom of the hill once a week (which requires a post-hill nap. It’s like a tenth of a mile both ways put together) and wandering around the Biltmore with my Dad and Janet that one day.

(George Vanderbilt. Victorian hotness.)

Job Search

I honestly thought I’d have a job by now. It’s taking forever. There aren’t that many opportunities. If I can email 2 resumes in one day, I’m doing fantastic. A lot of days there’s nothing. That sucks. Don’t these companies realize how their businesses are suffering without me to share my highly capable administrative support served with a side of unceasing, smart ass wit? Who the hell is going to decorate their offices with amazing Christa-mas crap if they don’t hire me already?! I’ve had several interviews and second interviews but nobody seems in a hurry to hire. “I really like you. Let’s talk again next week.” Okay…next week comes and then it’s “I still really like you. Can we reschedule?” or “The hurricane stole my power.” or “I can’t find my lunch. Can we do this on Monday?” Grrrrr! If I find your lunch for you, can I please get a damn paycheck?

(Your skills are incredible! How’s $9 an hour to start?)

I have a strong feeling the electric company and porn4ever.com is not going to let me “reschedule” my paying their bills. Someone needs to give me a job. I promise I won’t even check my Facebook at work for the first week. (That’s 5 business days. Not 7.)

CW + TV = BFF

We all know that tv and I have a special relationship. But during my downtime since the move, tv and I have become closer than ever. TV is teaching me so much. I’ve learned I’m surprisingly good at pricing games on The Price is Right. I know all the prices for the regular stuff like groceries and housewares but no idea how much a new car, boat or RV costs. I always knew that redcoats were assholes but I had no idea how truly stupid they were until watching Daniel Boone. Little Joe on Bonanza has a left shoulder made of steel. He’s been shot there like a million times but always recovers by the end of the hour. Also, a woman should never fall in love with a Cartwright, or as I prefer to call them Cartwheels. It’s a death sentence. Any woman who falls in love with a Cartwheel will die. I’ve learned that Giada can’t pronounce words like “spaghetti” or “ricotta” without an asinine accent. You’re American, girl! Knock it off before I smack the “sheet” out of you. Zach Baggins from Ghost Hunters is living for the day he finally gets some ghost sex. I guess because no live woman would ever touch him. And I think the Dr. Quinn show should’ve been called “Dr. Quinn: Busybody Woman”. I swear, I ‘ve never seen anyone stick their nose in literally everyone’s business like she does.

(At least the show had lots of hot, sexy, muscly, rugged, manly, fine, strong, smoldering…wait, what was I talking about again?)

Law & Order, in some version or another, is on for at least 29 hours a day. As is Big Bang Theory, 2 ½ Men, South Park, Family Guy, Snapped and Cops. I find myself quite drawn to the crime shows. I don’t know why. I just like trying to figure out the story. Mom thinks I’m watching too much violence and murder. Buttons says I’m not watching enough. Who’s right?

Pros and Cons

All in all, I’m so happy to be living at home. I can see my sister and my friends whenever I want! But I don’t get to see my Cali friends. I like sitting on my ass. But I miss my paycheck. The leaves are gorgeous and the weather is amazing. But I haven’t had any Mexican food since I left L.A. I don’t have any traffic. Obama is president. And there’s no con to that one! The holidays are coming and I get to spend them at home with my family for the first time in nearly a decade. That is so freaking awesome, I can’t even describe it. Plus, my pets are with me, I got to see my Dad and Janet again and attend the infamous Caudle Halloween Party. I’m feeling super blessed. My world is not perfect but I’m thankful for all of it just as it is.

(Pictured: Perfect World)

But with the holidays on the way, I feel more writing coming on. Especially since I’ve been volunteered by my mother to accompany my sister for Black Friday shopping. Ack!

Guilty Pleasures…on TV

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I love tv. That’s why I have spent my life trying to get on tv. TV has, at times, been my mother, father, brother and secret lover. Being a movie star would be nice but I really want to be on tv. The Simpsons, Married with Children, Golden Girls, My Name is Earl, the A-Team and so many others have all worked throughout my life to hone my smart-ass mouth and extensive knowledge of explosives into what it is today. There’s not as much great tv out there right now. Some are obvious Christa shows-Raising Hope, Project Runway, Glee, New Girl. But there are also a few shows out there now that I can watch until I’m cross-eyed that you normally wouldn’t think would be my cup of tea. But for some reason, I love them, I adore them and can watch them for hours.

(All the good men are either married or cartoons. Or both.)

RuPaul’s Drag Race

This show is so awesome. A bunch of drag queens get together to do wacky challenges and sick runway shows all at the hand of the Queen of all Queens, RuPaul. They get to win money, a lifetime supply of makeup and a huge sparkly crown. All I really need to live a happy life. And my God, RuPaul is a beautiful woman. We all know I wish I was a drag queen. There is so much glitter, sparkles, colors, bitchiness and Absolut Vodka, that I could drown in this show. I love the fact that these guys can go from homely, hairy dudes into totally over-the-top, beautiful Glamazons. I want to be a Glamazon! Every time I watch this show, I want to be a better girl. I want to immediately fix my hair, put my make up on several inches thick, put on a short skirt and throw some shade at some bitches. (throw shade=talk smack…fyi) I even auditioned for RuPaul’s Drag U. A spin-off where they take normal (read-unfortunate looking) women and make them beautiful drag queens. Hell to the yeah! Actually for me though, hell to the no. I was informed by casting, through a very sweet email, that RuPaul does not think I am in need of a makeover. But if I have some more “normal” friends who might be interested, send them to the show. Oh well, at least RuPaul doesn’t think my look is busted (a little more lingo for you there). So which of my friends to forward that email to…….

(Maybe I should’ve shown up looking like this!)

Gangland

Gangland is this documentary show on street gangs and motorcycle gangs in America. I’m fascinated with this show. There’s a lot of violence, drugs and terribleness. I’m going to be careful on wording this one because the last thing I need is some MS13 or Latin King coming over here to pop a cap in my curvy, white ass. This show is an entire world I can’t even fathom. The poverty, the violence, the lack of structure or motivation. It’s insane to me. I’ve been poor but not like this. Also, the lack of respect for life, be it someone else’s or their own, is astounding. They seem to be living to die. I can’t wrap my pathetic little suburban brain around it. And it’s even more incredible to me that so many of these gangs are a few measly miles down the street from me here in L.A. I thought I’d seen a lot and was a pretty tough cookie. Guess what? I’m not. I try to remember some of the words they use though, so I can throw them out there in random conversation and look real bad ass. Like when I told my friend at work that when Wes joined the Dixiewood cast, we were going to “jump him in”. That means beat his ass so he would be worthy of working with us. We didn’t really do that. And who wants to be in a club with guys who punch and kick you for 3 minutes so you can prove your awesomeness? No thanks. I prefer to be friends with people who don’t make me bleed. But I can still watch this show for hours because it’s a part of our society that’s very foreign and yet compelling to me.

(So, you wanna get a McFlurry or something now?)

Cartoons

I am a huge Simpsons fan, obviously. I also love King of the Hill. Hank Hill is my dad. Hank sells propane. My dad is a gas measurement engineer. They both live in Texas. They are both republicans. They both love their lawns and their beer and steak and hunting and fixing things and they are completely baffled by their children who are comedians. Spooky, ain’t it? I love older cartoons, too. I still watch Scooby Doo and The Smurfs. The Smurfs’ obvious communist lifestyle is hilarious. 100 guys, all living in one village in the same houses, wearing the same outfits, eating the same food, each using his one talent to make the entire village better and following one wise old sage wearing red. They also work hard to fight off the evil Gargamel who wants to turn the Smurfs into gold so he can be richer than anyone (capitalism). He even created a girl Smurf to distract them. This show rocks.

(They’re much cuter than Lenin and Stalin put together.)

I also love the old tried and true slapstick greatness of Tom & Jerry and Bugs Bunny. For a long time I thought Kill the Wabbit was a real opera. I used to laugh milk out of my nose at Tom’s never ending failure to catch that one little mouse. Ha-stupid cat! Now, it’s vodka coming out of my nose but the point is, they still make me laugh. I can watch cartoons forever.

Food Network

Why in the hell do I love Food Network? I don’t know but I do. I’m not a foodie and I have no interest in trying weird food. I’m actually a very picky eater. I like the competition shows like Next Iron Chef or Food Network Challenge. I’m amazed at how the chefs make amazing food and it looks so easy. It’s probably kinda hard though. I can cook some but not like Food Network people! I also love Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Iron Chef and Iron Chef America are close to my favorites though. They take the most disgusting things and make food out of them and then make people eat it! Ew! I am sorry. I don’t care how much fennel and garlic you put on a duck’s bill-I am NOT going to put that in my mouth. But I love to watch other people do it. And then they exclaim over how delicious it is. Hm, I don’t know if they’re lying just to be on tv or my palate is that of Cro-Magnon Man (probably the latter) because it looks so gross to me. But I still watch it in awe. Also, they make a lot of seafood. I hate seafood. All of it, except tuna salad where the tuna comes out of a can and looks and tastes nothing like real fish. I just can’t put something in my mouth that swims in and breathes the same water it poops and has sex in. It’s just nasty.

(And I just farted on your plate, too.)

Going Old School

I also really enjoy early television. Bachelor Father starring John Forsythe and Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver are the bees knees! They’re clichéd and hackneyed but they’re the ancestors of modern sit coms. Every joke on tv today is somehow recreated from these old shows. These shows are still funny. They’re sweet and they remind me of a less complicated time when family meant something. Or at least on tv it did. And also, I honestly don’t think Beaver jokes would be as funny without them. And Tony Dow was hot. I’m quite addicted to a lot of the old 60’s shows as well. Batman is amazing. Every huge movie star wanted to be on it. The whole campy goodness of it is delicious. Every villain was awesome and the Caped Crusaders’ tights leave little to the imagination. I also adore the Wild, Wild West. Ross Martin is a genius (and underrated) actor and Robert Conrad was hot. The fight scenes were great and this was before CGI and special effects, people. The Monkees is also a super fun show. I know the words to all the songs and I completely understand how they stole the hearts of a generation of girls-my mother included.

(Hey Beiber. You stole my haircut, you little bitch.)

So when you’re emailing/texting/calling me and I don’t get back to you, it’s probably because I’m watching tv. It actually took me two days to write this blog because Idol’s back on, I have back episodes of Bachelor Father to catch up on and the Cake Boss: The Next Great Baker finale was on. So that’s about it for this episode. See you next time. Same Bat Time. Same Bat Channel.