And there is no better time to take a break than in the beginning of the year when celebrities are too busy patting themselves on the back with Oscars and Grammys and Golden Globes (oh my!) than to actually work. So I took a step back and tried to live life as a normal member of society who didn’t check EONLINE.Com five times a day to see if Britney/Lindsay/Miley Cyrus had any kind of dramatic kerfuffle. But in the midst of the economic crisis and the realization that our shiny new President, even with all of that swagger, common sense and intelligence, can’t fix the country in 85 days, we have embraced all of the ridiculous, petty and ugliness about Hollywood. I’d much rather pay attention to the weed-induced hilarity of Joaquin Phoenix than rant about how the economy is affecting my career (or lackthereof).
So I got DVR.
Normally, I’m a technology-phobe. I didn’t get a cell phone until I was 24 just because I wanted to be different (and didn’t want brain cancer).
I didn’t even want an MP3 player and only got one because my father bought it for me.
I didn’t “get” internet when it was first unveiled in the early 90s.
And now, of course, I can’t imagine my life without those wonderful, beautiful, fantastic toys. My purse has more electronics and adapters in it than makeup and lipgloss.
However, I always wanted DVR, but could never afford it. Now, I have a job working 3pm to midnight, and it became a necessity for K to stay in the pop cult loop and not miss “Supernatural,” “Ugly Betty,” etc. And DVR is officially the best thing that ever happened to me. It, like the perfect man in a romantic comedy, has pulled back the velvet curtains and revealed a world I could only imagine in my sad, loveless, pre-DVR life. I have discovered new shows and have had exquisite rendezvous’ with old friends like…
The delightful fun, fascinatingly disgusting show about Temperance Brennan, a foresensic anthropologist, and her disarmingly attractive FBI partner, Seely Booth (Emily Deschanel and David Boreanaz, respectively) is one I missed up until now. I watched this show when it first debuted in 2005, but college and impending graduation got in the way of regular viewership. Now, I DVR the show in syndication on TNT, and come home to the classic and oddly romantic “will they/won’t they” sexual tension between Bones and Booth. They make eyes at each other over purreed corpses and pulverized bones. The writing is as weird and gross as it is sentimental and sweet and intelligent. It’s the “Grey’s Anatomy” of cop procedurals (and I’m talking about ‘Pick me. Choose me. Love Me’ Grey’s, not the Izzie’s-sexing-a-ghost Grey’s.) and has magically avoided the behind-the-scenes drama. Bravo!
The cooking show that makes the entire process of running a restaurant look like a complete clusterfuck is an absolutely can’t miss. Not because I’m dazzled by chefs chiffanodding skillz, but because of Gordon Ramsay’s storied shitfits and the chefs blatant incompetence. This current season has produced a particularly (or purposely) bad crop of wanna-be executive chefs, two of whom Ramsay has eliminated during service. Because they cook the same things every service and always managed to supremely fuck something up. He squeals and shrieks and cusses like a hysterical housewife on a tear, and I LOVE it. “Top Chef” is it not, but it is delectable all the same!
“For the Love of Ray J”
I will admit, when I first saw previews of this hip hop version of “Rock of Love,” I rolled my eyes and swore I wouldn’t watch (just like I did with “ROL” but I watch it like it’s going out of style). Ray J is more famous for his sextape with Kim Kardashian, his “relationship” with Whitney Houston, and being Brandy’s little brother than his musical abilities (which include an annoyingly catchy song called ‘Sexy Can I’ and…um…that’s it). But I was sucked in, and I LOVE it. The girls are classier than the barhags and strippers they scraped off the shallow end of America’s intelligence pool, but the show is just as salacious. Ray J is smarter than he looks, and uses his experience as an entertainer to heighten moments with his (scripted?) confessional recaps of the competition for his heart. From literally falling off the chair when a girl made herself into a human banana split (by rubbing herself in ice cream and nuts and deep-throating a banana in the splits no less) to hilariously wincing when a bikini-clad drunk contestant poked in him the chest with a fork, pure guilty pleasure entertainment. And with the aide of DVR, I can fastfoward through the commercials and the repetitive champagne ceremonies, and get straight to the good stuff.
I anticipate this mid-season new show will be canceled before the weather turns warm, but my prediction is a compliment. I love this show about the imaginary country of Shiloh and the politics of its power-hungry king and the inevitable ugliness behind the polished propriety of the royal family. Chris Egan plays David, a soft-spoken, but intelligent and brave soldier who literally slays Goliath to save the king’s son, and becomes the country’s hero. Naturally, young David, who was raised on a farm, stumbles as he traverses the high society. With fantastically nuanced performances, swift and slick plotlines and the wonderful cast, the series is better off for the more sophisticated HBO viewer and is wasted on a flailing network like NBC.
DVR has changed my entertainment viewing life for the better, and has pulled me back into the industry I love so much. Just in time for “Fast and Furious” and the onslaught of frothy summer movies and TV shows! Thank you, DVR!