When Cory Monteith is looking you square in the eye, talking all earnestly about how exciting the rest of this season of Glee will be, it’s kind of hard not to believe him. Hell, he could look me earnestly in the eye and tell me about that time he rode a unicorn, and I’d believe him. He’s just that great. (Honestly, if there’s anyone in the world more perfectly cast than him, I want to meet them.) So when I got my grubby little paws on the screeners of the next two episodes of Glee, hot off interviewing and meeting the cast with Keith, I was, like, 99% excited.
I only say 99% because there’s always that niggling one percent of you that listens to the naysayers. Was the pilot really not as phenomenal as I had thought it was at the time? Will my ardor have cooled in the ensuing months? Did all the ads and teasers cause me to unfairly build this show up in my head so it can never achieve the standard of perfection I now unwittingly hold it to?
But children, let me tell you, I have seen the promised land. I have watched those two episodes, and I am here to tell you that the 1% was totally right. It was not as good as I was expecting — because it was infinitely better.
I admit it — I watch and love VH1 Celebreality shows (also known as “skankertainment”). They’re stupid, frothy, fun that are a perfect vacation from my life, my problems, and my sanity. They are also usually among the most conspicuously culturally irrelevant things on TV. Sure, there are things like How It’s Made that know nobody’s watching them, and then there’s VH1 dating shows, which routinely feature people ho are attempting to become the next big thing, like we were introduced to Lady GaGa because she tried to date Brett Michaels, or something.
So imagine my surprise when it turned out that yes, Ryan Jenkins, one of the contestants on Meghan Wants a Millionaire was relevant — not because he recorded this summer’s hit single (what is this summer’s hit single, anyways?), but because he’s wanted as a person of interest in — wait for it — the salacious murder of his ex-wife.
Man oh mansicles, does it get any better than this? (I mean, obviously, it could, because someone’s dead, but dude! Seriously!)
When I ask people to describe my personality for various reasons – curiosity, recommendations for a job or school, ego boosts on crappy days, et cetera – generally one of the first things that comes up is usually either “good sense of humor” or “funny”. And I like it that way. I like it better than the other most common adjective (”smart”), and way, way better than the third place adjective (”stubborn”).
For a long time, I’ve very seriously considered writing for or about TV professionally, more specifically – for comedic TV (because I hate the word “sitcom” – it implies a laugh track, and laugh tracks and I have a long-standing grudge match). I have always thought that what would hold me back from such aspirations would be either numbers (there are simply so many people who want to do what I want to do) or location (you’ll pry me away from Boston over my cold, dead body).
But as more and more jobs seem possible to do anywhere I want, so long as I have the internet, I’ve started to wonder more and more about the feasibility of this long-cherished dream of mine. I’ve started to look at the crowd of my competitors and assess how I measure up. And the thing is, while my writing might be on par with theirs, there’s one giant thing that makes me different from this mass of hopefuls – I’m a girl.
Don’t think I don’t see all of you, standing around and muttering, pointing at me. “This is all your fault!” you hiss. “You Kasprzaktivists put Evan in the finale, where he didn’t belong!”
To which I say — hold on a hot second, there. First of all, I don’t vote, because I’m way too lazy to do so. Second of all, even if I voted until my fingers fell off, it wouldn’t be enough to matter, because I am very lazy and have very lazy fingers.
But what I really want to say to this is: why on earth would you think he doesn’t belong? If this was a search for America’s best dancer, I would agree that yes, Evan does not belong. But, as the ever-magnificent Cat Deeley reminds us every week, this is a search for America’s favorite dancer. And that is why Evan is still in the running.