What’s going on with you, So You Think You Can Dance? I’m willing to put up with you, and your eight billion weeks of auditions, and your strange scheduling (a showcase followed by two shows in one? What is this tomfoolery?), and your flat (if well-done) dances, but this is only because I love you. If I didn’t love you, I would not be dealing with your shenanigans.
It seems to me So You Think You Can Dance can only handle one big spectacular per week, and when they stretch themselves too thin, the quality severely suffers. I understand the difficulty involved in scheduling around the World Series, but this is just ridiculously confusing. If I had my way, I think that they should have done the introductory show (having that was a good idea, and a way to catch up everyone like me who couldn’t bear to sit through two months of auditions) and waited until after the World Series to resume regular scheduling instead of having this nonsense where the judges decide for us. What was even the point of that? Aren’t we supposed to have a say? Color me confused and unimpressed by these stunts.
Thursday night is a crazy night for everyone, I know. My DVR comes this close to exploding weekly with the marathon I put it through. I watch 7 shows, which amounts to 6 hours of television in one night. It’s crazy and ridiculous and from what I hear, everyone has this predicament. And I am going to suggest you add to it.
No, not 30 Rock. You should know by now that you’re missing out big time by not watching this show, and if no one else has convinced you, I certainly won’t be able to. (But if you’re not watching, what is wrong with you?) No, I’m talking about two teeny-tiny fledgling shows no one’s watching and everyone should be — Community and Ace of Cakes.
If conventional wisdom is to be believed, every little girl dreams of her wedding day with the same raptness devoted to wanting to be a princess or ballerina, only unlike these dreams, this one never dies.
These little girls clearly never watched television.
There are tons and tons of shows dedicated to every aspect of the wedding day, and most of them are on TLC or Lifetime. I’ve always had a sort of sick fascination with them. They’re good for watching when my sister’s around or I’ve got a mindless chore to do, like cleaning stringbeans. As I get older, though, and marriage becomes, well, not a looming possibility — because I’m only in my early twenties — but something that’s suddenly actually an option instead of a far-away fairy tale, the idea of engaging in these bridezilla wars or going to these ridiculous lengths for the perfect gown, the more these shows make me want to take my stringbean knife and impale myself upon it.
It’s only been one day since bringing the pregnant She-Schuester on board, and so far no dice. I’ve always been told that I need to wait for my plans to unfold, but I’ve never trusted things that fold or take a long time to happen, which is why I’ve never trusted origami. If anything, half of the members of Glee club seem, dare I say it, chirpy. I don’t like chirping either. There was once a nest of baby birds outside my kitchen window and I shot the whole group of them.
Comforted myself by watching tonight’s Gossip Girl, but even that didn’t make me feel better. I used to really admire that Blair Waldorf and even wrote to her several times asking her to join my Cheerios. I assume I never got a reply because she was overwhelmed by the honor. Unfortunately, however, she seems to have chosen to date Chuck, whose clothing is worse than that little Liberace impersonator Schuester’s added to his flock of miscreants. I can only hope that Waldorf, along with the rest of the world, comes to her senses, and fast.
I’m still thinking about Thursday night’s TV. Partially because it took me until yesterday to finish watching all of it, and partially because it made me cry. Twice.
For the sake of full disclosure I should admit that it’s around that time of the month where I’m feeling a little more weepy than usual. (Other things that have recently made me cry: a poem, watching Dan in Real Life, watching America’s Sweethearts.) I mean, I’m not exactly bursting into tears left and right, I’m just… pre-disposed. And Thursday night’s television took that pre-disposition pony and rode it all around the park until I was sitting on my couch, swiping my eyes and going, “What the hell just happened?”
And why was it so awesome?
Since The Curious Case of Benjamin Button got made, it was inevitable that a new movie would take its place in the “will-it-won’t-it” category of perpetual confusion. And taking Benjamin’s place? Arrested Development.
Today news was released that a screenplay is in the works, but, the article notes, that doesn’t mean we should expect anything, since none of the actors have signed on.
Maybe it’s shows like Community that have me longing for more Arrested Development. After all Community also features the younger, socially-incapable guy (Abed) and the older, trying-to-be-cool guy (Pierce). There was a beauty pageant plot on Parks and Recreation, which bore some strong resemblance to the episode where Maeby wins an inner beauty pageant and George Michael decides to join the army after Steve Holt and his dad compete in a triathlon together. That whole storyline with Andy questioning his sexuality on The Office made me miss Tobias more than I think anyone ever should.
When I was still in school, if I loved my teachers, I loved loved loved my teachers. I’ve always been enamored with the whole profession of teaching, which I can trace directly back to my nerdy parents who raised me to believe that there was no higher calling in the universe than the education of youngsters.
So when we first met the character of Will Schuester (played by long-time Broadway vet Matthew Morrison) in Glee, I was convinced I would love him above and beyond anything remotely reasonable. He’s so earnestly in love with teaching and his kids! He reminded me of my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Kershenbaum, who I was deeply, completely infatuated with in that pre-hormonal way you can only be in elementary school that really boils down to devoted hero-worship. (The man made me think math was awesome! Clearly, he was a god-like figure.) Like Mr. Kershenbaum (whose name I am not changing in the off-chance hope that he finds this and knows, a decade later, that I still think he’s pretty much the man), he could sing and play the guitar, had a slightly broken-looking nose, and extraordinarily curly hair. Unlike Mr. Kershenbaum, he sang “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” which may be one of my favorite songs of all time.
Since the first two episodes, however, my feelings on Mr. Schuester have boiled down to one big, lumpy pile of what can only be described as “meh,” because I feel like the entire glee club — or, well, the entire show — is a giant exercise in playing into Will’s self-centeredness.