True Confession Time
Okay, time to come clean.
I'm not much of a TV-watcher, really. The last time I watched something on network TV was when I played along to "Jeopardy" on the afternoon of Martin Luther King day, which I had off from work. I've never seen an episode of "American Idol." I think I've seen one episode of "Survivor" and that was only because my pals Beth and Barb were visiting and they didn't want to miss it.
About the only shows I insist upon watching regularly are "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report." Aside from those offerings, I'm more likely to surf the movie channels than anything else.
But, yeah... I've been hooked on my share of trashy cable TV offerings, including "Flavor of Love," "Celebrity Fit Club," and a short-lived show that featured b-list celebrities hunting ghosts in notoriously haunted buildings--a show that I don't even remember the name of (but it was pretty unintentionally funny).
Blame the writers' strike on my latest embarrassing TV addiction: MTV's weekend marathons of "America's Next Top Model."
I'm not proud of that--but they say the first step to solving a problem is to admit that you have one. Here is the problem: Once I surf onto one of these shows in progress, I must stop there and watch. And watch. And watch. No matter that it is about the most shallow, vacuous show ever. No matter that almost all the aspiring models are dumb as posts. No matter that every cycle follows the same pattern, down to a regular viewer (which, I guess, is what I have become) knowing that only five girls get to go to the international fashion city of choice for that go-round, or that the infamous "go-see" episode always occurs when the field has been winnowed to four supermodel wannabes...
What is the attraction? After all, I'm about the least fashion-forward person ever... (although I will cop to the fact that I own a hell of a lot of shoes).
Well, where else on TV will you hear a pretty young thing admit that she didn't know how to react when the photo-shoot director told her she "looked regal" because she didn't know what regal meant? Where else can an apprentice fashionista confide in you with the utmost confidence that she's so jazzed to be posing with an elephant because it IS part of the dinosaur family? And the go-see episodes are singularly amusing for the way the challenge exposes the utter lack of common sense and basic map-reading skills these glamour gals possess.
But that's not the attraction. Well, not the main one.
It certainly isn't the cliquish, middle-school mentality that prevails in the posh digs where the contestants lodge during the weeks they are involved in the show. Really, how much of a revelation can it be that these pretty girls are catty and jealous and do bitchy things like pouring another contestant's energy drinks down the bathroom sink in retaliation for a couple of disappearing granola bars or writing "Clean Up Your Shit" in the surface of a pan of just-baked brownies (these sticks eat brownies?) because the girl who baked them leaves dirty dishes in the sink?
No, that's not the attraction either.
Nope. The attraction is the pictures. The photos by which each girl is judged at the end of each show. They are quirky and fascinating and (probably the biggest draw to a magpie such as I) very often involve lots of sequins and spangles and sparkles. Also, I rarely can fathom the criticisms leveled at the photos by the panel of "expert" judges--so often they will pick apart a photo that I think is stunning, only to laud one I think is lame in the extreme.
That, and I find that I'm a sucker for the elimination angle.
Suckered in, that's me.
I'm not proud of that.
But maybe now that I've confessed, I have a slender hope of recovery...
I'm not much of a TV-watcher, really. The last time I watched something on network TV was when I played along to "Jeopardy" on the afternoon of Martin Luther King day, which I had off from work. I've never seen an episode of "American Idol." I think I've seen one episode of "Survivor" and that was only because my pals Beth and Barb were visiting and they didn't want to miss it.
About the only shows I insist upon watching regularly are "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report." Aside from those offerings, I'm more likely to surf the movie channels than anything else.
But, yeah... I've been hooked on my share of trashy cable TV offerings, including "Flavor of Love," "Celebrity Fit Club," and a short-lived show that featured b-list celebrities hunting ghosts in notoriously haunted buildings--a show that I don't even remember the name of (but it was pretty unintentionally funny).
Blame the writers' strike on my latest embarrassing TV addiction: MTV's weekend marathons of "America's Next Top Model."
I'm not proud of that--but they say the first step to solving a problem is to admit that you have one. Here is the problem: Once I surf onto one of these shows in progress, I must stop there and watch. And watch. And watch. No matter that it is about the most shallow, vacuous show ever. No matter that almost all the aspiring models are dumb as posts. No matter that every cycle follows the same pattern, down to a regular viewer (which, I guess, is what I have become) knowing that only five girls get to go to the international fashion city of choice for that go-round, or that the infamous "go-see" episode always occurs when the field has been winnowed to four supermodel wannabes...
What is the attraction? After all, I'm about the least fashion-forward person ever... (although I will cop to the fact that I own a hell of a lot of shoes).
Well, where else on TV will you hear a pretty young thing admit that she didn't know how to react when the photo-shoot director told her she "looked regal" because she didn't know what regal meant? Where else can an apprentice fashionista confide in you with the utmost confidence that she's so jazzed to be posing with an elephant because it IS part of the dinosaur family? And the go-see episodes are singularly amusing for the way the challenge exposes the utter lack of common sense and basic map-reading skills these glamour gals possess.
But that's not the attraction. Well, not the main one.
It certainly isn't the cliquish, middle-school mentality that prevails in the posh digs where the contestants lodge during the weeks they are involved in the show. Really, how much of a revelation can it be that these pretty girls are catty and jealous and do bitchy things like pouring another contestant's energy drinks down the bathroom sink in retaliation for a couple of disappearing granola bars or writing "Clean Up Your Shit" in the surface of a pan of just-baked brownies (these sticks eat brownies?) because the girl who baked them leaves dirty dishes in the sink?
No, that's not the attraction either.
Nope. The attraction is the pictures. The photos by which each girl is judged at the end of each show. They are quirky and fascinating and (probably the biggest draw to a magpie such as I) very often involve lots of sequins and spangles and sparkles. Also, I rarely can fathom the criticisms leveled at the photos by the panel of "expert" judges--so often they will pick apart a photo that I think is stunning, only to laud one I think is lame in the extreme.
That, and I find that I'm a sucker for the elimination angle.
Suckered in, that's me.
I'm not proud of that.
But maybe now that I've confessed, I have a slender hope of recovery...
posted by Cathy VanPatten at 8:29 PM
7 Comments:
Well, so, now >>I<< feel safe to confess my own personal dirty little secret.
Late at night I draw the drapes, turn down the lights, grab a Diet Pepsi, and, to my shame, watch reruns of Hanna Montana on The Disney Channel.
No, I'm NOT a dirty old man (well, I am, but not in this instance; Sabrina the Teenage Witch is another matter altogether--I lust for Caroline Rhea). Seriously, it's funny! When you have guest stars such as Vicki Lawrence and Dolly Parton a-feudin' and a-fightin' with one another (or The Rock in full drag), when you have exclamations such as "Sweet niblets!" and "Song-writin' daddy say WHAAAA?", when you have Billy Ray Cyrus making fun of himself, oh my! Good times!
But if you quote me I'll deny it.
Perhaps if scientists had higher fashion aptitudes, they might understand and appreciate Fashion Taxonomy a little better.
Of course the elephant is part of the dinosaur family! In the world of Fashion Taxonomy (aided by a rigorous subdiscipline known as Fashion Cladistics) the elephant joins the rest of the dinosaur family because of his style and his sassy attitude.
Oh yeah, and that being-big part, too.
I predict that with the rise in home schooling, our understanding and appreciation of Fashion Taxonomy will increase dramatically over the next several decades.
jso
How could I have been so blind!?! And yeah, I forgot completely about that sassy pachederm attitude.
Wouldn't it be great if Fashion Cladistics could be a degree-worthy discipline?
Oh, this was a joy to read!
I always say that I don't watch reality TV, and for the most part, that's a totally true statement. But I'll confess here that I got hooked on the first season of Beauty and the Geek. My husband got sucked in right alongside me. In fact, that particular summer, only I went to youth camp. While I was away, the final episode was to air. Steven was under strict orders to tape it for me. He did, and we watched it together when I returned home.
There was just something utterly fascinating about the fact that these guys with whom I actually shared a few interests (the former snotty cheerleader in me cringed as I typed that) could be so without a clue when it came to social situations. And I didn't understand how pretty girls could be so freaking dumb.
I'm also a sucker for Disney-channel movies. Steven makes fun of me for this, but I just love happy endings. And Disney movies always have happy endings.
G.W., if it makes you feel any better, when we were in London last year visiting my sister's family, my dad, husband, and I wound up watching a Hannah Montana marathon with my nieces. My dad and husband both laughed hysterically a few times.
Thanks, ewokgirl! I feel a little less pervy and a lot less geeky!
Hmmmm... Hannah Montana, huh? I'll have to surf on by the Disney Channel one of these evenings...
You know, ewok, I surfed by that Beauty and Geek show once or twice and was tempted to watch more, but I felt so bad for the guys--they seemed SO clueless. They actually reminded me of my HS days as a dateless wonder! Too close to home!
Oh yeah... and I DO know that pachyderm has a Y in it.
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