Simply the Best

A friend of mine at work today asked me what shows I would consider my favorites of all time. Oh the pressure! I hate dealing in superlatives because it really stresses me out. Does picking my own personal bests of the best DEFINE me? Is this like that episode of Friends where we find out Rachel lies and says her favorite movie is Dangerous Liaisons but it's really Weekend at Bernie's?

I mean, there's my comfort food...Sex and the City and well, Friends. I'm still watching these night after night in reruns. No matter that the DVD's are in reach. We've talked about this.

Then there's those tv landscape altering shows...the Lost's and The Soprano's.

But what about those yummy guilty pleasures? Would you judge me if I said that I fondly remember rushing home to watch Party of Five to see Bailey's Intervention? And that my roommate and I sat speechless and teary eyed all through the episode sipping white zinfandel? Yes, white zinfandel. Go ahead and continue to judge me. I was young and foolish...but not so young and foolish as to not appreciate the genius (ok, hotness) of pre-Lost Matthew Fox in his earlier role as Charlie.

Once upon a time I was big on Ally McBeal, The Practice and Happy Days. Not really in that order, but you get the gist. And I totally wanted to go off to private school once I starting watching The Facts of Life.

Calm down. I'm not equating The Facts of Life with, say, The Sopranos. But, in its era, it is one of those shows that I rushed home for.

Which brings me to something else. We don't rush home anymore! Not for TV. In this post-DVR world, it's all about spoiler alerts and On Demand. I kind of miss worrying if I taped over the finale of Felicity with 90210.

Ah, Felicity. If only she hadn't cut her hair, I might be DVR-ing THAT favorite as we speak. Well, DVR-ing it AND drinking maybe a nice Cabernet?

Let's Do the Time Warp Again

90210 is within reach. And while I'm sure I'll get sucked into the high school hi-jinks, I'm watching it for the same reasons you are...to see Jennie Garth and Shannen Doherty go home again.

And, I'm pretty pysched to see Rob Estes (the one and only Kyle McBride from Melrose) popping up on that show, too.

But something is bothering me.

Shows set in high school are all the rage now (I'm talkin' to you, Gossip Girl), but a lot of well known stars from MY youth are showing up on these teeny bopper shows in the grown up role, and it's making me realize something.

I'm kinda old.

Ish.

I mean, this weekend I got introduced to One Tree Hill (shout out to that certain cute Boston boy who turned me on to One Tree Hill, by the way). Now let's keep in mind that I am still watching season 1 circa 2003, but I tune in to this thing and the bad guy father is none other than 90210's brief bad boy John Sears (Paul Johansson)?! Remember, John Sears was the dude that screwed over Kelly? And now he's playing the dad?

And I'm sorry, I cannot handle Moira Kelly as the MOM. She'll always be the sassy Cutting Edge skater to me.

Well, I guess this is what happens. We may all have to get older, but we can at least relive our lives once lived by lockers over and over again courtesy of the TV. So, it turns out you CAN go home again...or at least stop by in a cameo role.

By the way, how come I never even SAW Varsity Blues and yet all I can hear in my head as I write this is James Van Der Beek in the trailer yelling "I don't want yer life!!!"

Brand Identity

I can face it. I'm not really the MTV generation anymore. I'm more of a VH1 gal. But, I do try and keep up with what the kids are up to these days.

So when I saw promos for the MTV Video Music Awards featuring Russell Brand and Britney Spears, naturally I thought...who the hell is Russell Brand??!

Now, lest I end up with a Ben Stein-style influx of hate mail again, I wanted to make sure I hadn't missed the wave of possible celebrity that Russell must've surely ridden in on to warrant hosting these awards. I decided to do the only responsible thing a journalist would do.

I googled him.

I still don't know what Russell Brand did to get this hosting gig, but I did learn a few things, like:

Russell Brand was voted "Shagger of the Year" 2 years in a row in The Sun.

MTV REALLY wants to lure you to their awards to see what Brit Brit will do next.

Also, perhaps most curiously, MTV still has music videos.

• MTV
• Music Videos
• MTV Shows
• Entertainment News

Where the Boys Are

I'm kind of a sucker for cute boys. So, when an ESPECIALLY cute one in Boston suggested I check out Date My Ex: Jo & Slade, how could I resist?

Oh dear. Cute boys are always getting me into trouble.

Well, I did check it out. I would've liked to check out the pilot (get it together Bravo - make it easier to watch episodes online!) but instead I watched a random episode.

Now, if you don't know the premise, from what I can tell from my non-scientific random sampling, Jo dates 3 guys on each episode, and then picks one to stay on to the following week. The big twist is that her ex Slade Smiley lurks and gives her advice on who to keep around and also tells the guys what's what.

Slade Smiley. Possibly the fakest porn/cartoon name I've ever heard. Ok, actually, the only porn/cartoon name I've ever heard.

Oh and there's some weird Spice-Girl-Castoff-looking host or friend or something that also chimes in from time to time. Chris Harrison, she is not. Anyhoo, I don't really know what happens with these dudes once she collects them all, but I can tell you what I would do.

Run!

This is the biggest bunch of tools I've seen in one place since I worked on a home makeover show.

Ick.

It's mildly amusing. It's certainly a different spin on the Bachelor premise (how many can they possibly do, by the way?!). But, I don't like any of these generic pretty boy soulless guys. Not one bit. And, this 'reality' show is so fake and contrived that I'm surprised these guys aren't reading their lines off a teleprompter.

I feel bad for Jo. It must suck having the only dating options be someone they have to pay to hang out with you reality cartoon characters and the ex with the cartoon porn name.

Get with it, Jo! There are way cuter boys east of LA. Take it from me.

Hot and Bothered

I hate the summer. TV mostly sucks, and I'm forced to try out these bad reality shows, even though I know what the outcome is going to be: wasted time.

But, I watched Pamela Lee's Kid Rock's Solomon's Anderson's new reality show, "Pam: Girl on the Loose" anyway.

Anderson's been doing the talk show circuit, proudly telling anyone who'll listen that at least SHE is not going to prostitute her kids out for this show...she'll just stick to prostituting herself.

Ok, so she's more noble than Lohan or Denise Richards, the other reality bottom feeders who would probably throw puppies in traffic if it would give them the spotlight and some more cash. Pammy's show is harmless. It's not going to burn out your retinas like those other shows did, but there's just not really much to say.

Then again, I don't think Pam's audience has ever been that interested in hearing her speak. Ahem.

The other problem with this show, besides being devoid of any real plot, is the fact that it's so over the top with its cutesy for cutesy sake graphics-gone-wild appearance that it's like when my 13 year old nephew got a new Mac and went nuts trying to make a home movie and used EVERY SINGLE EFFECT AT ONCE.

OK, fine, I don't actually have a 13 year old nephew, but if I did, I imagine that's what it would be like.

It's ok, Pammy's world is inflated and make believe, too.

Truly Madly Deeply

Amy Winehouse and I are in trouble.

We both have all the telltale signs: the hollowed out darkness that lurks under the eyes from no sleep, no time to eat, and yeah, I totally just want one more hit. I just can't get enough, man.

But my crack ain't actually snortable or smokeable. It's Mad Men.

I mean, I know I wrote the other day that I was digging this show (even though I'm a little late to the party), but man oh man, did I just have no idea how addictive this thing is.

I blame On Demand. I'm in a foggy haze, frantically trying to catch up to season 2. The clock tolls 1:08am and I know I have to get up for work, but who can care about work at a time like this?

Besides, it's not like I can drink and smoke at my desk like at Sterling Cooper.

Why even go in?

Way Beyond Bueller

Who knew Ben Stein was so huge?

Not me. So when I wrote of my surprise at Ben's place in the political world, I got a flurry of emails that were kind of like, mad at me. Don't you worry, my little chickadees, I wasn't trying to slam your beloved Ben-ster. I think he is a delightful and amusing fella. I was just merely expressing my OWN surprise that he was in the pundit circle.

My OWN surprise...cuz sometimes, it IS just me.

Anyway, much like Baby's father in Dirty Dancing after he realizes he shouldn't have tried to put her in a corner, when I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong, so I will cop to ignorance of his awesomely politically qualified past. I should've checked it out. This former speech writer for Nixon and Ford is like a wicked smartee pants with major, major political cred.

But seriously, guys, the dude did guest star on Charles in Charge MORE THAN ONCE.

Anyway, sorry if y'all were offended. Jeesh! Now I know why politics and religion are off limits on a date.

By the way, did I tell you the joke about the priest, the senator, and the network exec?

Time Management

Did I miss something?

Other than my new obsession, Mad Men, I admit I've been uncharacteristically distracted. Besides my steady diet of Friends and Sex and the City re-runs, the dog days of summer have taken their toll on my tv viewing and my DVR isn't even in the danger zone of running out of room.

It's shocking.

So when I turned on Larry King on Tuesday night, I realized that frankly, I need to pay attention. Joy Behar was hosting a roundtable-ish political discussion with some pundits, and mixed in was...FRAN DRESCHER. Fran Drescher of the nasally, whiny-voiced Nanny fame?

I don't understand.

What TV Land reunion did they dig her up from? If you want to spice up the commentary with a little Hollywood, why not Beatty or Baldwin? Hell, I'd even settle for Ben Affleck.

Rounding out the 'panel' was Ben Stein. BEN STEIN?!! Did I go to sleep for 50 years like that Mel Gibson character does in that movie where he wakes up 50 years later from the cryogenic machine and hooks up with Jamie Lee Curtis and realizes he has missed everything, including the girl he went to sleep for who he thought was dead but as it turns out, isn't?

It kind of feels like that...'cause last I knew Ben Stein had 2 claims to fame. One involves winning his money on an aptly named game show. The other is simply this: Bueller...Bueller...Bueller.

I didn't know he was now the go-to guy for politics.

Just out of curiosity, is Matthew Broderick president?

Mad About You

So I finally decided to see what all the hype is about and checked out AMC's Mad Men.

Where the hell have I been?! It's...oh so good.

Now, on the bygone era front, I admit I didn't really give Swingtown a chance, and maybe I should've. But in that first episode, every Tab, every mustache, every bell-bottomed move seemed contrived to me.

For some reason, on Mad Men, it's the opposite. I want to deep inhale every unfiltered cigarette they smoke, come along on every non-seatbelted car ride they take, and, quite frankly, I'm a little jealous of the multi-martini lunches.

I'm comforted by the clacking of the typewriters. I want to run out and buy a bullet bra. I wanna go to one of those restaurants with the teeny weeny lamps on the tables and drink a gimlet. I'll call the restaurant and make the reservation on my rotary phone.

And now the best part. I'm only on episode 2 of the 13 on demand before season 2 starts next Sunday.

Finally, something to do this summer that won't make me hot and bothered...well except when I think about Mad Men star Jon Hamm.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

*Spoilers*

Even though, as you well know by now, The Bachelor franchise is a favorite target of mine, I haven't been able to make a commitment in a long time (Oh stop it. I'm talking about The Bachelor, stop judging my personal life).

However, I came home and saw that the finale of the Bachelorette was on, and thought, what the heck, I'm always kind of a sucker for the schmaltz.

So, I didn't even mind it that much when Jesse was ring shopping and had to drop his big fat "This DACORI DIAMOND ring symbolizes forever for me" product placement line in the middle of the I'm-about-to-hopefully-get-engaged montage.

I didn't mind when, as usual, we had to hear everyone and their mother declare their love affirmations every 3-5 minutes so that if we hear it enough, we might forget that this franchise has mainly produced couples that crash and burn right after the director yells Cut!

BUT...I minded it when, after Jesse proposed to DeAnna, the sloppy editors cut to a shot of DeAnna and Jesse hugging and the ring was ALREADY on DeAnna's finger, but in the next shot, poof! the ring was back in Jesse's hand, ready to be placed on her finger for the first time.

It was like that moment in that totally awesome campy movie, Somewhere in Time, where everything's swell for Christopher Reeve after he time travels back to 1912 to fall in love with Jane Seymour, but then he accidentally pulls a penny out of his pocket and it's from 1979 and he's jolted back to reality and dies cuz he can never see Jane Seymour again.

Ok, maybe it's not EXACTLY like that. But it did, like, kinda ruin the moment for me.

Anyhoo, odds be damned, these lovebirds have announced they have already set a May 9th, 2009 wedding date. Awwwwwww, so romantic...just in time for sweeps.

Age Before Beauty

For reasons that are way too frightening to admit that I won't bore you with, last night I found this John Waite video for "If Anybody Had a Heart".


This video highlights scenes from the 80's cult classic, About Last Night (ok, fine, maybe no cults are devoting anything to this film but still...). Is it just me, or does John Waite look and dress just a wee bit like Molly Ringwald in this video?

Anyhoo, I remember vividly when I saw About Last Night in 1986, MY FRESHMAN YEAR IN HIGH SCHOOL.

(Wow, that was painful to write.)

I had to leave before the end of the movie because it was past my curfew, and when I called dear old dad from a pay phone to say I might be late...he was PISSED! And so my date, whose name escapes me 22 years later, drove me home.

On his motorcycle.

I did not share this with dad.

But now, 22 years after that film, I just can't help but wonder what secret Dorian Gray-ish pact Demi and Rob made all those eons ago. In case you haven't noticed, NEITHER HAS AGED. Not one bit!!! It's spooky! Demi WAS born in Roswell, New Mexico. I'm just saying...

I'll have what they're having.

By the way, in 1986, Ashton Kutcher was eight years old.

90210 2.0

It's coming.

It's coming and you can't stop it.

This Fall, CW, home of new classics like Gossip Girl and America's Next Top Model, is bringing us 90210, the new-but-let's-be-honest-how-could-it-possibly-be-improved?-version. I'm excited and scared at the same time.

As you've probably already heard, it looks like both Jennie Garth AND Tori Spelling are coming back. And now, word arrives that Shannen Doherty might, just might, also be moving back to Cali's favorite zip code.

But no Dylan?! Sigh. Luke Perry has decided he and the pompadour are not returning. I heart Luke and wish he would come back, but I understand he is destined for more movies of the week bigger and better things.

In Luke's honor, let's all remember the greatest moment in the history of 90210, the episode where Dylan's wife Toni is shot one day after their wedding:



Don't lie. You cried, too...maybe just not as hard as when Ray Pruit (Jamie Walters) threw Donna (Tori Spelling) down the stairs.

Up the Dosage

*Spoilers*

Did you see Hopkins?

I asked that question to a lot of different people, and no one I asked had heard of it. I was about to say, "sorry ABC marketing folks", but as it turns out, Hopkins kicked Swingtown's ass in the ratings, so I guess they managed to hook in more than I thought.

Anyhoo, they did manage to get to me, and I watched on Thursday night. If you haven't seen it (and if you fit with my random sample, you haven't), it's a prime time 'real life' medical drama set at Johns Hopkins, complete with doctors' personal lives.

I want it to be good. I want it to be great. And not just because there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING to watch. I've resorted recently to stockpiling old Friends and Sex and the City episodes on my DVR just to have something to do.

(Perhaps now might be a good time for me to come up with some sort of a hobby.)

Hopkins is basically your typical TLC doc-style series, but with way better music. It's trying hard to be the real life Grey's Anatomy, but has way less attractive people and uses what I imagine are low-paid camera people doubling as producers to shoot the thing. Just a hunch.

It's entertaining. It's not awesome. I think it might get better. Please, if your story about the poor guy with the brain tumor is going to be your major cliffhanger, can'tcha go a little more for the jugular with the resolution? I know you tried. Try harder. I want to cry, dammit!

Now, the cute doctor who may or may not be going for a divorce is for sure their Central Casting McDreamy. His story is seriously mc-good. I felt his angst. I'm stressed for him. And somewhere, some casting person is super psyched they got this hot doc to agree to talk about his marriage woes on national television.

And so I'm going to keep watching. I want to love it, and I have a little Chicago hope that it's going to be worth leaving Grant Show and his swingin' porn-mustache in the dust.

Blondes Don't Always Have More Fun

Grey's Anatomy's Katherine Heigl apparently withdrew herself from Emmy nomination consideration because, and I sadly quote, '“I did not feel that I was given the material this season to warrant an Emmy nomination and in an effort to maintain the integrity of the academy organization, I withdrew my name from contention,” she said. “In addition, I did not want to potentially take away an opportunity from an actress who was given such materials.”

Now, I'm not sayin' that Grey's has bowled me over this season, either, but homegirl, learn to keep your mouth SHUT! You had no problem cashing those checks, right? Did you give those back?

Rumor has it that blondie's got her eye on the big screen and is trying to get out of her tv contract. Oh David Caruso Katherine. Don't you remember what happens to ego-possessed blondes who leave the shows that make them a star?

I'm sure Shelley Long would be happy to sit down with you and give you some pointers.

But, you're right. You belong on the big screen. Let us stroll down memory lane and remember your movie career pre-Grey's Anatomy, shall we?

You were like, TOTALLY awesome in "Bride of Chucky". Killer even.

And, remember your star turn in the TV movie prequel of "Romy and Michelle"? (Seriously, this movie had a prequel?)

My fave though has to be "Bug Buster". I love the simple plot outline "Killer cockroaches swarm a small lakeside community." This has got to be your golden ticket out. Now THAT screams prequel.











I suggest you clean up your act QUICK, girl. Or you just might find yourself selling Thighmasters to get you through those inevitable upcoming lean times.

Swing Out Sister

I finally got around to watching the premiere of Swingtown that had been beckoning to me from my DVR. If you hadn't heard, CBS just rolled out this new series about swinging couples in the 70's.

It's so nice to have former Melrose Placer Grant Show back on television. I was wondering what he had been up to, and a quick spin through Wikipedia revealed that a few years ago he married someone named Pollyanna Macintosh. This sounds to me ironically like one of those porn names you come up with by using a Disney character and your street name.

Or whatever that game is.

Anyhoo, Swingtown didn't really excite me, but I did notice the following random, and not so random things:

1. The creator of this show realllllly likes Boogie Nights. So much so that he borrowed some of the soundtrack and cast fake-Julianne Moore, Molly Parker, in one of the leads.

2. Sometimes, it was so self-consciously trying to pepper this pop culture-palooza with little reminders that we are in the 70's that it was distracting. She's drinking a TAB. I GET IT.
.
3. And sometimes, I suspect some writers with a bawdy sense of humor wanted to test the limits of what they could sneak past the censors. Like when someone ordered a Harvery Walbanger. Or when one of the characters was watching $20,000 Pyramid...and the clue was "Things that are Spread".

Ahem.

There was also a montage at the end that lingered on a fried egg image just long enough for me to wonder if perhaps it was yet another pop culture homage, this time to the famous "This is your brain on drugs" PSA's. Then again, that was an 80's thing, so maybe it's just me.

Well, Swingtown won't fry your brain, but it might show you how to be over easy.

The Rose Parade

This week, VH1 has decided to run a Bachelor/Bachelorette marathon. All week, hours upon hours of retro Bachelor. So, if you don't work, and you really dig broken engagements, your dream has come true.

On Tuesday I happened to catch a fair amount of the Trista re-runs (I swear I do work occasionally), including the Pepto Bismol infused wedding spectacle that was Ryan and Trista's nuptials. I had forgotten how ABC dragged this thing into what seemed like 80 hours of television, about all the hyperbole ("the most anticipated wedding since Charles and Diana!"..."the wedding of the decade!")...and how Trista's squeaky baby voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

It's all especially intriguing to me. In recent months, I've started to investigate the business side of this here blog and I learned how to track the way strangers arrive on my site. The #1 Google search that lands people on my blog? Trista's diet. Trista's diet that I mocked and ridiculed mind you, but this is apparently what the American pop culture public yearns for.

Now, lest I be a total hypocrite in my mockery, I admit a weakness for the Andrew Firestone season, which is on for a good chunk of the day/night Wednesday.

You can relive it with me (time to call in sick!), the innocent days when Jen Schefft captured that hottie Firestone's heart.

And, by the way, what was Jen thinking letting Andrew Firestone slip through her fingers? She could've been rich and drunk on a vineyard for the rest of her life! I'd travel to an island with Ricardo Montalban for that fantasy....

Warts and All

*SPOILERS*

My mouth is still agape from reading bitchy Rex Reed's review of the Sex and the City movie in the NY Observer. I hate to give him any more ink (Is it really ink when you write a blog? Screen time? Blogosphere-time? I digress...), but I suspect the vitriol laced tirade by this hack was motivated by something OTHER than his hatred of the movie.

He begins his 'review' with the following: "There’s nothing wrong with Sarah Jessica Parker that couldn’t be cured by wart-removal surgery. That growth on her face just gets bigger with every close-up, and in the full-length movie version of Sex and the City it’s so distracting you can’t concentrate on anything else. It’s not a beauty mark. I guess you can’t tell a co-producer anything, but listen up, girl. At this point, you would make a wonderful Halloween witch. Unfortunately, to fix all the things wrong with Sex and the City, you need more than a scalpel."

Rex Reed, obviously known the world over as a supermodel, apparently doesn't like his actresses to look real. God forbid any chick in Hollywood doesn't iron out and carve themselves into Demi Moore a perfect specimen.

What's even more infuriating is that there's so many inaccuracies in the article, I am highly dubious that he even saw the movie. He refers to the ladies as "predatory 40-somethings" and "cougars". Um, how do they fit this description exactly? All four characters are in monogamous relationships in the film.

He also says the ring Smith bought Samantha is $ 5,000 (wrong, not even close), that they sit around and whine about orgasms (don't remember that conversation), that they play poker with "$300 Hermes playing cards" (never happened) and "they all march off to Lenox Hill Hospital" after Charlotte gets pregnant. Say what? That. Did. Not. Happen. Did this dude see the same movie or what? Next he'll be discussing how crooked Mikhail Baryshnikov's pirouettes were.

It's easy to beat up on Sex and the City. As I waited in line for my ticket Friday night, I was amongst hundreds of 20-somethings dressed like dime-store whores. These are the gals that make hetero men the world over who don't watch Sex and the City think that it's only about cosmo-fueled one-night stands and weird fashion. But, at its best, it actually was an emotional roller coaster about relationships.

Kind of like life.

Now, did I think the movie was as good as, say, the "Carrie cheats on Aidan" years? No, I didn't. But, I thought it was pretty good, and I think that if a film critic is gonna beat up on a movie, they better have the goods to back it up.

Perhaps the most telling of Reed's statements? "Miranda dumps Steve for staging a meaningless (but understandable) one-night stand with somebody else".

"But understandable"??!?!!

Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the most misogynistic of them all?

Just Say No

You'd be hard pressed to find any positive reviews of Denise Richards: It's Complicated or Living Lohan. The most positive thing I've read is the opening from the San Diego Union Tribune: "As a study in fame-related psychosis, "Living Lohan" is actually pretty fascinating..."

So, I knew what I was getting into when I tuned in to this double dose of D-listers, but why does it still hurt so bad? I had to see for myself. Maybe you did, too.

It's a sad day when I'd rather follow the moral compass of Charlie Sheen, but Ms. Richards' show does nothing to advance her cause to prove she's just a regular ol' (wronged) single mom trying to find her way. She trots out her mother's tragic cancer death like some kind of trump card that might erase her evil, but instead, this show made me cringe more than as if I was watching Woody Allen attend a junior high school dance.

Gross.

And after subjecting myself to Living Lohan, mostly I felt like I needed to be de-loused after watching. Dina Lohan will tell anyone who'll listen how she doesn't crave attention.

Methinks you doth protest too loudly, you cheese infested plastic Barbie gone bad.

Parasitic Dina and her (probably underpaid) underlings relentlessly Google meal ticket Lindsay to see what's been written about her in the rags each day. Watching 14 year old Ali (who conceivably could've been 13 when this was filmed) peer over her mother's shoulder while she reviewed the latest sex scandal of her big sis? Disturbing on so many levels.

I'm trying to compare our upbringings: When I was 14, my mother would not let me wear a denim jacket to school because I would "look like a hood".

Let's just say I think I had the better deal.

My opinion of Dina Lohan? Joan Crawford and her wire hangers are better suited to parenting.

Missing in Action

*SPOILERS*

I'm not sure why I've written 'spoilers', because the truth is, this past week of finales was lacking much of anything to spoil.

First, though, even worse news: after a week of no American TV except an episode of 'Charmed' in French, I returned home from Paris to discover my cable box had fried and no shows had taped.

No shows had taped. NO SHOWS HAD TAPED. NO. SHOWS. HAD. TAPED!

After the emotional equivalent of breathing into a paper bag and reenacting the scene from Sex and the City when Miranda's TIVO stops working, I came to terms with my plight and tracked down most of the shows I had missed online, save for the American Idol finale (other than in pieces).








Whatever happened to cliffhangers???! How I Met Your Mother was ok, and sure, I guess Ted proposing and Barney secretly being in love with Robin seems exciting, but I just didn't have that "I cannnnnnnn't wait all summer" feelin'.

And then there's Grey's.

I just don't know that Grey's will ever be what it once was and that makes me sad. Yes, I thought Justin Chambers' Alex performance was a standout, and I look forward to buying the song they used toward the end ("The Quest" by Bryn Christopher) when it comes out June 9th.

But where are the weddings gone bad? The secret babies? The shootings?

Now that's what I really look forward to in MY finales, and I felt cheated. And that's another thing. Where's the cheatin' heart kind of love triangles? At least last week's ER finale blew up some stuff and possibly killed off a character or two. Now THAT's a finale.

Well, there's still Thursday. I just know I can find what's missing...on LOST.

An American Girl in Paris

It was already unthinkable.

I call myself a tv blogger and I plan a trip to Paris during finale week? mon Dieu!

At any rate, with croissants and wine on my mind (ok that and trying to figure out how I'm going to avoid news of the winner of American Idol until I get home), I thought it fitting that when I settled in to pack Friday night, TBS had on the Paris-based finale of Sex and the City.

And with Sex and the City: The Movie mania at a fever pitch, it was just another way for me to ramp up to the premiere.

But then...sacrebleu! Those greedy monsters at TBS had to cram in so many commercials that they Edward Scissor-handed the whole episode until it made no sense. Now granted, yes, I've seen it 800 times (and so have you) and it's not like I couldn't figure it out, but in principle, it left me outraged.

The TBS version (a.k.a. the Total Bull S*** version) had Carrie arriving in Paris, waiting till late for Aleksander to meet her for dinner...and then suddenly she's wondering what went wrong. No falling in Chanel. No wandering the streets of Paris trying to find herself. NO LOSING THE CARRIE NECKLACE!!

Maybe I'm overreacting. At least they didn't lose the famous "Go get our girl" line. That would've been a BIG mistake.

Now, as for American girls in...well, America, don't forget, ABC's got the premiere of The Bachelorette Monday at 9pm.

Meanwhile, those nice folks at ABC are waiting till next week when I'm back to run the LOST finale.

OK, it actually has nothing to do with me. I can pretend, right? It is fittingly called "There's No Place Like Home". Hmmm...you wizards of Oz and elsewhere...chew on the significance of THAT.

Au revoir!