Baby turtles eat raspberries

My brother-in-law recently posted a video on Facebook about how young adults today seem to lack basic life skills like cooking, sewing, personal finances, etc... As I watched this video, I realized that, to some extent, this was me. I mean, I can do my laundry and make an omelette, but I'm by no means a domestic goddess. I have the ability to cook but I just don't want to. So maybe it's not that I don't have the skills, it's that I'm lazy which I guess is an entirely different problem.

It's become clear to me today that instead of working on my latest play, I will piss away my time on social media and other general time-wastage activities. Watching a baby turtle eating a raspberry may cause me to have my next big idea. I think I entered into a meditative state while watching a toddler scale a rock-climbing gym wall. I mean, that's when I'm open to the muse, when my subconscious can rise to the surface due to my tremendous focus on a singular thing, like videos of cats destroying Christmas trees. Yeah, I know it's July. Don't tell me you don't get nostalgic for Christmas come month seven of twelve.

I just impressed myself there with a semi-Star Trek reference. If you didn't catch it, you're a loser. Get caught up. Wiki Jeri Ryan. Or ask your boyfriend. So we finally got hooked up to Netflix, because the boyfriend and I were tired of being losers too. So now when someone says: "It's on Netflix", I promptly reply: "Seen it, bitch" because I have no life.

Remember Amanda Peet? She was almost famous for a while... like maybe a decade ago. She's the Rom-Com pretty young girlfriend, think opposite Jack Nicholson in Something's Gotta Give. I figured she was an average actress at best. Until I watched HBO series Togetherness, in which Ms. Peet plays one of the main characters and proceeds to blow my f*cking mind. She's absolutely brilliant in this show, making bold choices as an actress and completely unafraid to play someone who's kind of messed up. She's the real deal, friends. Watch this show. Of course, you'll need Netflix, or Apple TV or whatever's not available on your regular cable subscription.

This girl ain't no poser. She's for real.

Now if I could just finish reading the latest Jonathan Franzen novel I started six months ago. Thanks Netflix, and adult colouring books.

German Darth Vader Advent Calendars on Smartphones

Know what I hate? People staring at their mobile phones while walking in public and not bothering to look up so as not to run into you. They still manage to swerve and avoid you because they somehow have an "object in personal space" perception but the fact that "other people" don't even merit a quick glance really irks me.

I mean, yes, I have a smartphone, and yes, it is the second most important relationship in my life (the first being my relationship with the boyfriend, obviously). Ok, I may have added that comment in brackets merely to avoid appearing politically incorrect, or sociopathic. I mean, my relationship with my iPhone couldn't possibly be THE most important relationship in my life, right? Right?

I'm also pissed off at all those critics who poo-pooed the third season of Homeland which the boyfriend and I are now finally getting around to watching. It's very good. What is everyone's problem? Unless it was reverse psychology. Tell everyone it's shitty and when they watch it, what a pleasant surprise it will be that it doesn't suck. Oh big brother... I'm onto you.  

So I had another tooth that was feeling a bit sensitive. They're so easily insulted. I keep telling them to grow a thicker skin. I'll spare you the rest of this story because it's kind of lame. Here's the condensed version: Stressed. Dentist. Fine. Toothpaste for sensitive teeth. If you're wondering why I said "another" tooth, read this. I really need to grow out of this oral fixation phase or start smoking again.

I was on a gluten-free diet for a while until I developed an obsession with cheese. I've always loved cheese, but the absence of wheat products turned cheese into crack-cocaine. It wasn't pretty. I was obviously compensating for the lack of croissants in my life. So I gave that up and simply opted for a balanced diet: a little bit of everything and a lot of wine.

I'm kind of bummed out because I can't find my deluxe Lindt Advent Calendar at Costco. Have they already run out? Did they not receive their shipment yet? Will they simply not stock them this year? What up Costco? Where's my f*cking Advent Calendar?

"Luke, ich bin dein Vater". That's German. I can't attest to its grammatical correctness since I just started learning the language five weeks ago but anyone familiar with Star Wars will figure it out.

 My cat has a new boyfriend:

I'm not sure how I feel about her dating. If she asks for a sleepover, I think I'll say no. We haven't really had "the talk" yet and that boy looks shifty.

When you don't have Netflix

We just finished watching the 2nd season of American Horror Story - Asylum. It took me about three episodes to get into this particular season but around episode 5 or 6, shit got real. I love this show. Just when I think they can't outdo themselves after a killer first season (pun intended), they come up with carefully crafted, brilliantly acted stories that seamlessly intertwine and are all beautifully brought to their conclusion by the end of the last episode.

The 3rd season, American Horror Story - Coven, is currently airing but as is our custom, we f*cked up. We waited too long and now our on demand service only has episodes 2 and 3 available for viewing. We can't possibly miss the first episode. So we've resigned ourselves to waiting another year to see that season.

We even finished watching all five seasons of Breaking Bad (or should I say four and a half seasons). Now we have to wait for the final episodes of Season 5 to come out on DVD. This half-season stuff is bullshit.

We're getting nervous. What the f*ck are we gonna watch? We don't have Netflix (yeah, we're losers, I know) so we either watch stuff on demand or buy DVDs. But now what? What's on TV that's any good? Even Modern Family sucks ass now. It's just not funny. Why the writers thought Gloria should have a baby is beyond me. Jay, Gloria and Manny had such great chemistry together. A baby is completely superfluous and adds nothing that wasn't already there.

My boyfriend's theory is that the writers had kids during the last few years and think kids are funny so they wrote them into the show. Newsflash: unless they're a clone of that super cute kid from Jerry Maguire, young children aren't funny, at least not in a scripted TV show. I much preferred the infant actress who played Lily - she was adorable and didn't say a word - to the 4 or 5-year-old who now plays the role. She's terrible and shouldn't ever speak. Every time she does, the humour just gets sucked out of the scene.

Modern Family used to be sharp and funny. Now it's just a series of tired comedy clichés. Although, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Ty Burrell, who plays Phil Dunphy, still brings it, every time, which makes me respect the guy even more. He can still shine while the show tanks around him. Kudos to you, Ty.

So now we're left with movies and hockey (the boyfriend's a huge Habs fan). It's bleak. Downton Abbey and The Bachelor only start up again in January, a whole two months away. That I just mentioned a celebrated PBS drama and a sleazy, low-brow reality show in the same sentence is disturbing. I'm getting desperate.

Drinking makes everything better

So, yeah.... I've come to realize that staycations aren't for me. However, watching Millionaire Matchmaker on a girls' weekend Saturday afternoon while drinking cosmos, now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Some nouveau rich hipster dufus gets set up on a date. The girl he's with gets him to try a new alcoholic beverage and this is how he describes it: "It's part tuxedo, part motorcycle fuel, part alimony payments." Best. Line. Ever.

This same classy lady says this to him moments later: "Give me a peck on the lips. Don't worry, I don't have any sores or anything." This is when the sheer brilliance of this show dawns on me. That, or the vodka and Triple Sec were taking effect. Anyhoo, there were more zingers being thrown around than ladies' underwear at a Tom Jones concert. (I'm aware that reference is outdated but Tom Jones still rocks that shit. Just sayin'.)

Then we start watching American Dad on Netflix. I'm already a fan of Family Guy and this show basically steps up the jaw-dropping inappropriateness and political incorrectness. In a nutshell, I loved it. I mean, even I was offended, and that's no easy task.

But back to the staycation. Was it nice to not be at work? Yes. Was it fun to be at home, in completely familiar surroundings? Meh. I realized that getting the hell out of dodge is essential to rebooting my brain. When I'm at home, my mind can still obsess about retarded shit because it's not busy trying to find its bearings in a completely foreign land or looking for the nearest tiki hut with those tropical drinks that have tiny umbrellas in them.

Lesson learned. Must travel. Must save money accordingly. Must trust others with my beloved feline. That being said, I should probably stop spending like a drunken sailor. Although, I do get points on my credit card for travel stuff which basically translates into money for travel, so... by spending money am I saving? I like this theory. However, I'm not sure it's accurate.

Random travel photo:

Lake Louise, Alberta

Where's a Crack Spirit Guide when you need one...

So there I was, super-excited about the return of HBO's Girls, a show I totally fawned over a few months ago. The boyfriend and I had just settled in, glasses of red wine in hand, and began watching the first episode of Season 2.

To say we were disappointed is an understatement. This show went from smart and sassy to a caricature of itself. We got the feeling Lena Dunham (the show's creator/writer/star/director/producer/caterer/key grip, etc...) read too much of her own press, got too immersed in her own fabulousness, and lost the magic that made the first season of Girls so unique and engaging.

Now the dialogue feels uneven, the jokes forced, the personalities obviously played up. In other words, not believable. It's difficult to connect with characters you just can't take seriously anymore.

It pains me to feel this way since I love seeing one of the sisters succeed, especially in comedy. But Lena, you've lost your way, and now, on the show at least, you've gone from quirky and sweetly dysfunctional to simply annoying. Even the ugliness of your outfits seems too contrived, like you're trying too hard to be "that girl who walks to the beat of her own drum". I get the feeling you're now trying to walk to the beat of the highest bidder.

On the other hand, and perhaps this series can serve as inspiration to Lena, Californication, whose sixth season recently started airing, still manages to surprise us with its sublime writing, lovable losers and increasing depravity.

David Duchovny shines in this series as troubled writer Hank Moody, as does the rest of the ensemble cast in this cocky show (pun intended). When we can watch Hank Moody descend to such depths that he ends up drinking his own urine and think: "Yep, that's Hank." we know we've got a winner on our hands.

In six seasons, Californication has been completely unabashed about its mainly soft porn content. However, the show works because the debauchery is couched in brilliant writing and characters you can't help but love despite all their faults and urine ingestion.

My boyfriend refuses to watch the remainder of Season 2 of Girls, so discouraged was he by the first two episodes, so I'll have to sneak them in on the down low, just out of sheer curiosity and hope that it gets better. Please don't be a one-season wonder, Lena. I'm rooting for you.

I loves that scary shit

What turned a good weekend into a great one? We started watching Season 1 of American Horror Story. I'm trying to remember the last time I was so frightened and riveted for such a sustained period of time. My boyfriend had to mute the intro because he found it so creepy. Extra points for scary awesomeness.

With a cover like this, you know that shit is gonna be f*cked up.

I'd heard the show was great but really had no idea what it was about. Six Feet Under actually sold me on this show since Frances Conroy (a.k.a. Ruth Fisher) is in American Horror Story. Since SFU is probably my all-time favorite show ever, I figured if Frances was in this new show, it had to be good.

Jessica Lange also headlines in AHS and rocks that shit like nobody's business. She still looks amazing too, and naturally so, I might add. She looks like a woman who's aged incredibly well, not like some circus freak trying to turn back the hands of time but like someone who takes care of herself and has embraced the aging process. In other words, she's still hot.

What I like about the whole concept of this show is that it feels like a prolonged horror film. Over 12 episodes, there's time to develop a complicated plot and multi-faceted characters, as well as scare the shit out of you over and over using various plot twists and shooting techniques.

The cast is superb, the writing solid. I'm more and more convinced that television is rendering movies obsolete with its sheer excellence. Shows like Dexter, Californication, American Horror Story, Breaking Bad, just to name a few, are eclipsing film as a story-telling medium since they have the luxury of multiple episodes, story arcs and seasons. But most importantly, they make me feel less bad about my TV addiction, and that's what really matters - contributing in a positive way to my rationalizations of questionable behaviour.

Speaking of questionable behaviour, I got nearly homicidal over a squeaky bike brake this past weekend. My boyfriend and I headed up to a provincial park near our place on a beautiful, sunny November afternoon for a ride in the woods. What should have been a mildly challenging, Zen-inducing ride in nature turned out to be a constant inner struggle against my growing rage.

You see, I got brand-new fancy brakes put on my mountain bike and this was only the second time I was using them. I had just figured out what was causing another rattle on my bike and fixed it, and for a brief 10-15 minutes was enjoying the quiet and beauty of the woods when, lo and behold, another incredibly annoying sound started emanating from my front wheel brake. And it didn't stop. It was my own version of American Horror Story. Stuck in the woods on a squeaky bike, the sound magnified tenfold by the sheer silence of nature.

When I pay what I paid for new brakes, they had better work and be whisper quiet. Those mo fos at the bike shop f*cked my shit up and I was pissed. I tried to be all like: "Well, there's nothing I can do now, so I should just surrender to the situation, and try and enjoy the ride despite this loud, irritating noise." That did not work.

So I went with this instead: "I should just surrender to my anger and resentment over this noise that has effectively ruined what might have been akin to a religious experience." Yeah, that felt right. Just be bitter. Don't try to fight it. It's not like it was the last ride of the season. Oh, except it WAS the last ride of the season and I'll carry that with me until next spring when the bike shop will have fixed the problem and I will erase the memory of this debacle with a wonderful ride on my quiet mountain bike.

I have issues. I am aware.

Wanna be my "Crack Spirit Guide"?

I love it when I stumble upon a gem of a new TV show. I'd seen a commercial for HBO series Girls and was intrigued. It looked kinda funny. So one night when perusing our On Demand service,  I suggest to the boyfriend that we try out this new series.

Holy f*cking crap. It is SO f*cking good. It's like Sex and the City but with better writing and real people. Lena Dunham is the creator/star/writer/director of this show.

This girl, she's amazing, which kinda makes me feel bad about myself, 'cause she's 26, ridiculously talented and has her own kickass tv show, but whatever. I'm reaping the benefits of her talent by being thoroughly entertained. "Crack Spirit Guide" - that's comedy gold right there.

If you haven't seen this show, you must watch it. The people cast in it look like, well, people you and I would know. They're not all statuesque models living in impossibly expensive New York apartments with a wardrobe worth millions.

Nope, these are your typical 20-somethings searching for meaning and identity in what can sometimes be a shitty f*cking world. However, this show never strays into melodrama. It's quirky, funny and refreshingly honest.

Lena has now officially been placed on my girl crush list along with Tina Fey. HBO must renew this series. It's too good not to continue, and they should also pay me to write reviews. Just sayin'.

Gossip Girl is full of B.S.

The past few weeks have felt like a hike through a desert, barefoot, in a string bikini, with no sunblock. The desert signifying the sheer lack of good TV programming. The only shows we've been able to look forward to lately are Dexter, Hung and Modern Family (when it's not a repeat). In a week that consists of seven days, three TV shows ain't gonna cut it.

However, last night I stumbled upon a cool, refreshing oasis. 1) Season 5 of 30 Rock on DVD. 2) Season 1 of Gossip Girl, also on DVD. No, I hadn't seen one episode of Gossip Girl until last night. Yes, I occasionally live under a rock. I like it there. It's quiet and Fox News can't get a signal.

Anyhoo, there are pivotal moments in one's life, when you realize nothing will ever be quite the same, that things have somehow been forever altered. One of these moments occurred last night when I was introduced to Gossip Girl. They had me at B.S.

There are four seasons of this show on DVD. Now I know what I'll be doing over my Christmas vacation. Putting a dent in our couch, watching a marathon of Gossip Girl. I'll probably forego personal hygiene and a proper diet, in favour of greasy hair, coffee and anything with cheese in it. Eating healthy takes time, time I could dedicate to watching vacuous socialites and their petty lives.

I had lofty goals for my holiday break: read a good novel; do yoga; write. That's pretty much all shot to hell now. How can I possibly concentrate on that when there's rich bitch porn to watch? Even the boys are bitches on this show. Resistance is futile.

I've only seen two episodes but it was love at first watch. I just know it'll last forever, or until the show ends, whichever comes first. 

xoxo,
Sassy Girl

Breaking Bad breakdown

I'd like to think my boyfriend and I are fairly intelligent people but sometimes things happen that make me seriously doubt this. Take, for example, our attempt to watch Season 3 of Breaking Bad. It all started when we went to our nearest video rental store. They only had three of the four discs but informed us that another store had disc 1. So, we rented discs 2 through 4 and headed north to the other location and rented disc 1.

We successfully watched the first few episodes on disc 1. Then, we attempted to watch the last one but fell asleep early on and decided we would watch it at a later date. One week passes. We're headed out to run some errands and decide we should bring back disc 1 since it's overdue. Did we watch all the episodes on that disc? Somehow, we convinced ourselves that we had, and brought it back. 

There was also added pressure to return these suckers. The chain of video stores we rent from was going bankrupt and would close permanently in a matter of weeks. We had to call and find out how long we had before they closed up shop and we wouldn't be able to return them and then we'd have creditors hassling us to purchase the damn discs.

A short time later, we settled in to watch the first episode on disc 2. Massive confusion. What the hell is going on? Did we miss an episode? Then, it dawned on me. Shit! We never finished the last episode on disc 1 because we fell asleep! Dammit! Highly frustrated by our lack of short term memory, we marched on, watched disc 2 and pieced together what we missed.

When we finished watching the second disc, my boyfriend put in disc 3, or so he thought. We watched all the episodes on this disc, and the last one had a great cliffhanger ending. I rushed to the DVD player to put in what I thought would be the final disc. As I removed the one we'd just watched, I looked at it in horror as I read: Disc 4, episodes 11-13. Whaaaaaaa?! How could this happen? How could we not know we skipped ONE WHOLE DISC when we were so confused after missing just one episode?

Then, I had an idea. I knew Season 4 was currently airing on TV and we had that channel on our On Demand service. OMG, we could go watch Season 4 now and find out what happened! So, we found the Breaking Bad listing, bursting with glee, only to have our dreams crushed. Only episodes 6-8 of Season 4 were listed. F*CK. We are idiots.

So, we resigned ourselves to watching the middle episodes of Season 3 that we missed. They filled in some details of the later episodes but we couldn't help but feel completely deflated by our stupidity. I mean, this is a kick-ass show, not something you want to f*ck up, you know? Now, we'll basically have to wait until Season 4 comes out on DVD, and find a new video rental store. Bollocks.

Tyra, why you gotta bullshit me sister?

Last night, I had a tiny TV orgasm. Why, you ask? Because I got to watch two hours of America's Next Top Model - last week's episode via On Demand since I missed it, followed by this week's new episode, then a new episode of Modern Family, followed by the premiere of Happy Endings, a promising new comedy. I can't remember the last time I had three solid hours of awesomeness on TV. Life is good. 

So, back to America's Next Top Model since, like, oh my God, there was so much DRAMA. So, this girl Alexandria, who thinks she's all that, and is kind of an arrogant bitch in the house, is convincing everyone else, i.e. Tyra and the judges, that she's just the best person/model ever. 

Then, on a photo shoot, this other contestant, Brittani, is talking to the other girls saying how Alexandria shouldn't have won the latest challenge (being featured in a "fight breast cancer" ad campaign) because she's such a fake ho, and Alexandria's all like " I heard that!", and Brittani's all like, "Well it's true! We all wanted you to go home last week!" and it's a bitchfest smackdown. Little did they know that one of the judges, Nigel Barker, witnessed the whole thing.

Then, during the judging panel, Nigel just had to bring it to everyone's attention, then Brittani lost her shit, and there was crying and gnashing of teeth and panic attacks and a contrite return before the judges. Tyra gets all sanctimonious and shit, telling Brittani she was totally unprofessional and should never have done what she did while on the job, especially not in front of clients.

So, Alexandria comes out looking like the poor, hapless victim and Brittani is admonished to no end by Tyra, and told that if Tyra had the final word, she'd be gone. Ouch. Except that Brittani has better photos than Alexandria, and Tyra was outvoted by the other judges, including Nigel, to keep Brittani, and Alexandria has previously gotten in shit, more than once, for telling people what to do on set. How soon Tyra forgets...

But it's the fashion industry people. Of course fake will overrule authentic. Even Tyra was singing the praises of "faking it" in front of clients, like if you're having a bad day, you have to pretend you're not. You gotta put on your happy face and your big girl panties. Except that there are tremendously successful models who are known to be, at times, totally out of control bitches. 

Take, for example, Naomi Campbell, who, on numerous occasions, has been known to have tantrums and throw shit at people. Clients are still booking her. Or Kate Moss, who was caught, then exposed on the front page of a British newspaper doing coke. Yep, she's still modeling. I wonder why Tyra didn't mention that.

Let's face it, if models sell shit, they'll get booked, irregardless of their behaviour. If anything, notoriety will raise their celebrity status, not tarnish it. I mean, look at Charlie Sheen. It's the same in the modeling industry. 

Tyra can pontificate all she wants but bad girl models have proven they can be just as successful, if not more so, than those who tow the line. And frankly, Brittani is a superior model. So she'd had enough of Alexandria and her bullshit and let off some steam. Big deal. Like that hasn't happened before in the real modeling industry? Come on, what do you take us for Tyra, idiots? Please bitch. We all know how it goes down. And your sugar coating just leaves a sour taste in my mouth. 

Life-saving tips I learned from watching TV

In honour of the long-awaited return of Californication (the 4th season premieres on Sunday, January 9), here are a few things I've learned from the previous three seasons:

1 - Sex may be enhanced by punching your lover in the face.

2 - Masturbating at work is not a good idea.

3 - Sleeping with your ex-wife's fiance's under-age daughter is an even worse idea.

4 - Writing about sleeping with your ex-wife's fiance's under-age daughter, then having the manuscript stolen by said daughter who claims it as her own, then is found out to be a fraud, then you beat the crap out of the daughter's agent who could expose you, may land you in the slammer.

5 - Sleeping with a student is ok if she's a stripper.

6 - Sleeping with a married woman is ok if her husband already cheated on her and she's owed a "freebie".

7 - Don't snort blow if you have a deviated septum - it'll burn like hell.

8 - Rick Springfield is a slut.

9 - If you sleep with a porn actor, chances are you'll probably get an STD.

10 - Not only the young and pretty are horny. 

I can deduce from number 7 that watching TV pretty much saved my life. I suspect I may have a deviated septum since one nostril is bigger than the other and my nose was essentially smushed to one side during birth, making for an interesting "first photo". Why the need for a snapshot immediately after birth? I was obviously not looking my best. Give me a chance to clean up for Christ's sake. But I digress.

I had no idea snorting coke could be so dangerous for someone with a crooked nose. Not that I plan on doing blow anytime soon but if, sometime in the future, I decide that this is something I want to try, I'll know not to sniff it up my schnoz.

In all fairness, this program is not all soft porn. The writing is sublime - it's witty and intelligent and the acting is solid. David Duchovny is superb as Hank Moody, a middle-aged man child trying to get it together but not quite succeeding. 

Evan Handler, who plays Charlie Runkle, Hank's showbiz agent bestie, also deserves a mention (Evan may be better known as Charlotte's husband, Harry Goldenblatt, on Sex and the City), as does Pamela Adlon who portrays Charlie's wife, Marcy. Lovable, despite their many flaws, one can't help but root for these three characters.

The supporting cast also surprises and delights. In Season 3 alone, Kathleen Turner, Peter Gallagher, Rick Springfield and Peter Fonda all made unforgettable appearances. Needless to say, I'm quite looking forward to Season 4, if only to gain more life-saving tips.

How much do I love Dexter?

I want one... is that wrong?

The Dexter Trinity Killer Bobblehead

To order one, click here. You know you want to.

From consternation to fornication

There is nothing a TV addict loves more than finding a new gem of a series, a new drug, so to speak. I had just such an experience over the weekend. My boyfriend and I felt we were in a TV slump. Lots of free time, not so many good TV shows to fill it. We had both heard that Mad Men was a great series but hadn't yet seen an episode. So, we decided to rent the first season and see what all the hoopla was about.

We knew, five minutes into the first episode, that this was the shit. We were partaking of the "totally addictive TV" nectar, and it went down smooth. We've seen about seven episodes of the first season so far, and Mad Men does not disappoint. Apart from the riveting drama, it's a sleek recreation of the early sixties, and all the social mores that go with it, like the chain smoking (pregnant ladies included), drunk driving, perfectly manicured red fingernails and matching lips, male machismo running rampant, and housewives bathed in a deep seated malaise.

It's beautiful to watch and also shocking. For those of us who weren't alive back then, it's a sobering history lesson, a reminder of how the ideals of post-war America quietly eroded the dreams of a whole generation, stuck in narrow definitions of sex, race, religion, politics and culture. 

And it's damn good TV. 

As was this documentary we saw last week, American Swingers, about a heterosexual swingers sex club in New York City, Plato's Retreat, open in the late seventies and early eighties, and about its colorful owner, Larry Levenson. 

Whoah! This place was outta control! I'm talkin' all out orgies. There was a space in the club called the "mattress room". It was covered with, you guessed it, mattresses! and could hold a large group of couples, all writhing in ecstasy as one big f*cking machine. Or, if you were a little more on the shy side, there were smaller rooms for 2-3 couples, and many other amenities such as a swimming pool, steam baths and a dance floor. 

Larry Levenson went to jail for a while for tax evasion, then came back to the biz but the club was eventually shut down in the mid-eighties over concerns about AIDS. Larry morphed into a washed up, broke, overweight taxi driver who died at age 62 of a heart attack. Go figure. 

Yummy, yummy, yummy in my TV tummy.

No True Blood = Random musings

I'm all for Americans celebrating their great country but not when it messes with my True Blood viewing schedule. I was all pumped last night to watch a new episode at 9 pm, followed by Hung. But lo and behold, HBO was airing the three episodes we've already seen and Hung wasn't even on the schedule. 

Then it dawned on me. It's July 4th - a holiday in the US. Damn. I mean, good for my neighbours to the South but bad for us Canadians who rely on American networks for our TV fix. I was totally discombobulated and had to quickly put together a plan B. 

Luckily, my boyfriend found Family Guy and we watched a couple episodes instead of True Blood. I was reminded of Seth MacFarlane's genius and that of his writing team. F*ck that show is funny, and not an easy, obvious kind of funny. You've got to be paying attention. It's smart people funny, and it cushioned the blow of the absence of a new True Blood episode.

I was also impressed with Americans when I saw the results of a recent Popeater.com/The Insider survey in which Sandra Bullock was voted favorite American while Spencer Pratt and his lovely wife Heidi Montag were voted most embarrassing. This restored my faith in humanity, especially after finding out that a wax figure of Kim Kardashian would be making an appearance at Madame Tussauds. 

That it was generally acknowledged that Spencer and Heidi are a blight on our collective consciousness makes me think there are intelligent people out there. Some days I wonder. Today is not one of those days. For more on Heidi Montag and why Americans should be embarrassed by her, click here and here.

Us Canadians have enough to deal with what with those two complete idiots, Craig and Justin, appearing on the latest season of The Bachelorette. They brought shame to our land and should be punished accordingly - like having to perform lewd acts on trees while wearing a bear costume. Maybe I've been watching too much Family Guy...

Fangtastic news!

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the Season 3 premiere of True Blood this Sunday at 9 pm on HBO. My loins are quivering in anticipation. To prepare, I've started watching Season 2 again. This was a good idea. There are a lot of details I'd forgotten about so everything will be fresh in my mind for the debut of the new season.

I love this show. Frankly, anything that Alan Ball is involved with always kicks ass (American Beauty, Six Feet Under, etc...). And this particular show feeds my vampire fetish. I can't explain it. I've always had it, and have always been drawn to shows that explore it: Dark Shadows, with Ben Cross (God, I was so hot for him); Buffy the Vampire Slayer (first, major crush on Angel, then loin quivers for Spike); Bram Stoker's Dracula (I wanted Gary Oldman to sneak into my bedroom too); Fright Night (Chris Sarandon as a vampire = HAWT) and now, True Blood (Vampire Bill gave me chills - the good kind - now Eric is lookin' mighty fine).

I imagine it's pretty commonplace these days to have a vampire fetish what with all the Twilight insanity but I was ahead of the curve, way before this mass blood sucker hysteria.

I would be a vampire's ideal victim. Why? Because I'm so easily seduced. I would gladly expose my neck and give up my first born if some hot vampire dude stared at me long enough. Except Edward Cullen. I don't know if the production budget fell short for Twilight but the makeup in the first movie was so heinously bad, even I couldn't buy the fake pale skin. Also, Robert Pattinson's portrayal of the brooding angst that characterizes most vampires just made me want to slap him, unlike other performers delving into the vampire genre who make me think lewd and lascivious thoughts.

Perhaps it's the promise of immortality (despite having to become an evil, murderous being), or really hot, somewhat violent sex (what with the biting and drinking of blood) that draws me to this mythical creature. 

 I wanna see more of you in Season 3. Yum.

"I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you."

                                   Bad Things by Jace Everett (True Blood theme song)

Lost in Weeds

I SO called this in yesterday's post, and by "mildly retarded" I meant "mental disorder", obviously...

In other big news, Elizabeth Perkins is leaving Weeds after five seasons to pursue other projects. This saddens me greatly. What will Weeds be without Celia Hodes? (Spoiler alert!!) Granted, Conrad and Helia have been MIA for the last two seasons and the show has moved on, impressively, I might add.

But Celia? That hurts. How could Elizabeth want to leave this show? It kicks ass! I'm sure there's another story here just beneath the surface that we don't know about. You don't voluntarily leave a hit show unless you're David Caruso, and even he's learned his lesson, as proven by his long stint on CSI: Miami.

If you've never seen Weeds, you must. I'm giving you a homework assignment. Go rent the series, buy it, upload it, do whatever you have to do. There are currently five seasons, and they are all so f*cking AWESOME. Season Six is premiering this summer on Showtime.

I suspect brother-in-law Andy will be your favorite character, followed by Doug (played brilliantly by Kevin Nealon, a former SNL-er). I can't put into words how sublime Justin Kirk is as Andy. This guy, he's the shit. He was also amazing in Angels in America (you can rent that too... a little more serious, but good nonetheless). This is definitely an ensemble show, and they all rock it, but we always have favorites.

Weeds is quality TV, as opposed to crap TV. Don't get me wrong. I watch crap TV. I know that the new season of the Bachelorette kicks off on May 24, and I'm counting down the days. But luckily, I know the difference. I'm fully aware that crap TV is crap. I suspect the general populace does not make this distinction. This disturbs me. 

Watch Weeds. You'll thank me for it. 

Don't worry, this show won't let your brain go to pot.

Shameful display of TV enslavement

My dearest Sassies, I've always known I have an addiction to TV but yesterday I was exposed to the soft underbelly of this alluring habit, crack cocaine vs the usual marijuana buzz, if you will. I was at home all day yesterday and, of course, did not want to watch regular daytime TV. Ewww. 

But I needn't have feared, The Movie Network came to the rescue. I scrolled through the listings and there it was, shining like a diamond in the ruff: Six Feet Under. I didn't expect it to still be there but sure enough, there it was, calling my name. I swore I'd only watch one episode. I could do that. 

Wrong. Five episodes, a TV headache, and two bloodshot eyes later, my boyfriend and step-daughter had to stage an intervention. Oh, the shame. This show, I don't know what it does to me, but it's like I enter into this coma, and once I start watching, I can't stop. It's like I have no free will. The show speaks to me, tells me not to look away. And I don't, to my own detriment. 

Yes, boys and girls, this is the downside of TV dependence. The garden variety TV addict can be described as someone who must, at some point during the day, watch TV. This seems perfectly reasonable. Then, there are the hard-core TV addicts, the ones who are so entranced, they will sell their first-born to the highest bidder if it means they can keep watching their favorite show. 

It ain't pretty.

True Blood returns in June!

Found out today that the Season 3 premiere of True Blood will air on Sunday, June 13 at 9 pm EST on HBO. Am counting down the days. This is fangtastic.  

(Yes, the whole purpose of this post was to use that word: fangtastic. I'm probably not the first to come up with it, but I'd like to think I am. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.)

Six Feet Under my emotions

There are times when I realize television shows can have a higher purpose than mere diversion. I recently watched the last four episodes of the final season of Six Feet Under, one after the other, all in one shot. It was probably the most intense four hours of TV watching I can remember. 

I'd originally seen these episodes about four years ago and basically remembered what happened. Back then, I watched the entire last season in two days. It's strange what time does to you. I remember them being somewhat sad and, as always with this show, riveting, but not much more than that. I was not prepared for the emotional upheaval the second time around.

I don't know if it's age or different life circumstances but for four hours, I cried like a baby. And just when I thought I was done, I cried some more. Six Feet Under is not merely a TV show about the Fisher family's funeral business. It plumbs the depths of the most basic and universally frightening existential concepts: life and death, and still manages to be humourous and entertaining. 

The same thing happened not too long ago when I watched Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer a second time. Not only did I have a brand new appreciation of Season 5 in its entirety, but the few episodes dealing with the death of Buffy's mother (ironically, given the nature of the show, by natural causes), moved me to tears. 

My natural penchant for philosophical enquiry keeps me glued to shows like these, despite my deep-seated fear of the inevitability of death and the temporary nature of everything, that surfaces when exposed to these themes.

One thing I do know, in those moments when I'm sitting on the couch, clutching my faux-fur blanket, tears streaming down my face, raw with emotion, is that this is TV in its highest form, a true art, gliding past superficiality and exposing the soft underbelly of humanity - not to torment, but to tell the story of our shared experience.

Beating the January blues

January feels like it's pressing down on me, so heavy. My most primal instincts are screaming: hibernation! Sleep, alot! And yet, life goes on with utter disregard for the seasonal cycles of nature. Translation: I'm dragging my sorry ass around these days. So today I'm going for the record of shortest blog post since my energy reserves are woefully lacking but I'm dedicated to you, my readers:

Watched Season 5 of Weeds over the weekend. This show is on f*cking FIRE!  Writing: sublime. Acting: superb. Season finale: major cliffhanger. What more could a girl want?