Tough Enough has been giving me actual emotions, which I don’t appreciate. First of all, there’s been constant vitriol from the coaches/judges directed at one of the contestant’s, Sara, since week one. I don’t know if it’s a (lazy) calculated attempt to stir up drama, or eventually create some underdog tale, but it has the effect of watching hyenas tear apart a gazelle carcass. I mean week after week they just bludgeon this girl, and it’s not even like she is weak or incompetent, she is just QUIET. Un-reality show contestant-y. Last week was dedicated to berating Sara for smiling. Sara has a nervous habit of smiling, she even says her smiling has nothing to do with her emotional state in her little interview/diary segment. So naturally everyone has been barking at her for not taking the competition seriously / not taking the judges critiques seriously / being incapable of being threatening in the ring… Fine, it’s a reality show, not a training camp. Maybe their real life training techniques and attitudes towards the trainees differ from what is displayed in the show (although several real life lawsuits would suggest they don’t) but they’ve been dragging this argument out for six weeks now. “Sara, stop being nice” “I’m not being nice, I’m just on edge because everyone is constantly screaming and this is my on edge face” “You still look nice.”
So i watched Teen Mom OG, never got around to writing a response because a) it switched times and i could never figure out when it was on, b) because nothing happened. I’m a woman of limited means and intelligence and interests but most of all I am a woman of LIMITED DVR SPACE and it became immediately clear this was not a DVR worthy program.
They kept hyping how its been 4 years and omg so much has changed and omg we’re not 16 anymore, that was the key statement of the series “it’s like, I’m not sixteen anymore” but literally, they could have all been sixteen, nothing would have changed.
I really want to knock the pictures of me from eleventh grade off my front page, but my life currently consists of random shit I am watching, unless you want to talk about my singing lessons, in which case I am struggling to maintain support in between crippling bouts of acid reflux. Seriously. How the fuck do I even get acid reflux? I have the blandest diet ever. I like turkey sandwiches on white bread, regular Miniwheats, and, when available, sheet cake. I ate an apple yesterday and started to regurgitate it. What the fuck? Between yesterday and a night in college that involved a bottle of Mango Absolut immediately followed by tequila shots, I can tell you vomiting an apple, completely or partially, is not right. The texture does not lend itself well.
I just Googled vomiting to look for a synonym, and apparently “fecal vomiting” is a thing. Where your intestines back up into your stomach and you puke out your mouth and/or nose. Good times.
So for shit I have been watching/listening to, it’s BB seaaasson. I’ve watched every season of Big Brother and I’m not stopping now. This season seems incredibly reactionary in nature. Pretty much everyone was a fucking racist asshole last year, and CBS seems like they sought to guard their legal defense fund by casting the incredibly tolerant. Seriously, it’s the season of platonic cuddling. Everyone is spooning, male, female, gay, straight. There is nothing that warms the cockles of my heart more than Caleb, the self-proclaimed “Beast-Mode Cowboy” an ex-military, pro-hunting, ripped-ass stereotypical straight white dude from the South, snuggling up to Frankie, the loud-and-proud, glitter-encrusted ex-Broadway star from New York. No awkwardness, no sense that it’s forced, just a couple friends full body contact chilling in a Hollywood backlot, shooting the shit about whether they’d choose classic BB punishment a week of “slop” or a chance to spend a couple hours of uninterrupted making out in a room “full of chicks and a dude for Frankie.”
To clarify, it’s not just Caleb & Frankie who have a cuddlemance, it is everyone. Frankie and Zach, the straight, golf-obsessed Floridian bro, who seems half-young Republican and half nerd who recovered after they got hot, have largely been the ‘relationship’ of the season. There’s been bed sharing and massages and romance movie full-lift spin hugs, all while these dudes are presumably romantically uninterested in each other. There’s also been Cody, the could-be Seventeen model with the blue eyes of a Siberian Husky, who’s been pressed against every girl in the house including Christine (married), Nicole (showmance with another houseguest), and Jocasta (a Pastor). Pretty impressive.
I’m also fucking obsessed with this new show on Animal Planet (stay with me) called The Supervet. It’s a documentary series about this hot ass Irish veterinarian, Noel Fitzpatrick, who runs a state-of-the-art practice in the English countryside. Each episode highlights the animals that come into Dr. Fitzpatrick’s office, which is presented as the sort of end-of-the-line, “miracle”-working practice for the worst possible cases. You get to know the animals and their owners, and watch Dr. Fitzpatrick and his staff as they attempt to find novel solutions to treat very serious injuries. This series is obviously not American, because there is way too much restraint, and it is executed far too carefully. Which is a blessing, because this show does not require heavy-handed editing or hysterical soundbites to drive you into an overwhelming case of the feels. Dr. Fitzpatrick seems like a very unique human being, and I’m not just saying that because I would totally bang him. He is a very interesting contrast between straight-forward, no-nonsense authoritativeness and incredible, incredible compassion. The first episode I saw, which featured a Thai street dog that had survived a machete attack, showed Dr. Fitzpatrick retiring to the tiny room with the tiny bed and the tiny rack of clothes he had carved out for himself in his office after a long night of surgery. I think anyone who loves animals, or just wants to witness how someone cope’s with the constant demand for innovation under crippling pressure should give an episode of this a chance. It’s not a fluffy cutesy show like a lot of what is on Animal Planet. It reminds me a lot of Boston Med, if anyone remembers that, or Emergency Vets if you also didn’t have friends in middle school
Also Loveline has been putting a bunch of their old shows up for free download. I’ve always lived on the East Coast and never in a city with a syndicate (except for the two seconds The Edge carried it before I moved) so I’ve been majorly binge-listening. The other day I listened to an episode where Mike Carano talked about hating Mrs. Doubtfire so much that he carried around his ticket stub for ten years, claiming that if he ever got the chance to meet Robin Williams he would demand his $8 back. Apparently one day he did meet Robin Williams in a hotel lobby, but Robin Williams was so nice he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Teen Mom 2 was borderline unbearable last night. It’s been a while since I’ve debated whether or not to turn the whole thing off.
We finally got the long-awaited conclusion to “where the fuck did Jenelle‘s dogs go?” and I kind of wish we hadn’t. Apparently they’ve been crated in the garage the whole time, and the mysterious second dog, owned by Nathan, is !!SHOCKER!! a Husky. Why can’t irresponsible dog owners ever adopt a fifteen year old Shih Tzu that just wanders around and sleeps all day. They always need a Pit Bull or a Husky or in this case both. In another stunning turn of events that I’m sure will not be stunning to anyone who has
owned a dog spent time with a dog seen a picture of a dog, the dogs were nonplussed at being caged in a North Carolina garage and Luger (Jesus Christ, Nathan) decided to go for an Andy Dick Prison Break (escape, eat cage, shit on floor.) Jenelle curses out the dogs and threatens to get rid of them before shoving them both into one cage (since the other has been eaten) to go buy a replacement. As she’s putting together the cage, Luger snaps at the Pit Bull, so she does the obvious thing and opens the door and prays they flee into the wilderness. I have a feeling those dogs didn’t run past the front lawn, or in the most extreme scenario, they got taken in by someone with production, but bless them, running might be their best option. Baby Jace should have gone with them, they could all live down by the river and form their own society based around karate and destroying furniture.
Leah might be the only person more fucked than Jenelle’s dogs. Since the last time we saw her, Leah has become involved in a pyramid scheme. OF COURSE LEAH IS INVOLVED IN A PYRAMID SCHEME. People who are inextricably screwed like Leah are exactly the targets of pyramid schemes. Leah’s portion of the show involved her and Jeremy going to Big Sandy (Jesus Christ) and attempting to buy a new washer and dryer. Leah’s credit card is declined and she’s forced to admit to Jeremy she spent $1300 on Mary Kay makeup to sell. Her justification is so laden with buzzwords she reads more like an informational booklet than a human being. She’s “growing her business” she’s receiving “54% of the profit” she knows you’ve got to “spend money to make money.” I want to know what’s in the pills she’s on because she’s turning into Ellen Burstyn in Requiem For A Dream real fast. It. Is. Heartbreaking.
Was Chelsea even in this episode? Chelsea is pissed that Adam has gotten into another traffic accident (fair enough) and that her esthetician license is still being held by the labor board. North Dakota’s bureau of labor apparently does not have a lot on it’s plate. She’s also chastises Aubree for sitting on the table, but Aubree is her own woman and cannot be contained.
Kailyn‘s segment should be mandatory viewing for ninth grade sexual education classes. It was not particularly dramatic, or negative, in fact, it centered on Kailyn celebrating her 21st birthday with her friends and family. Still I think this exchange with her friend at her birthday dinner perfectly summarizes the problem with having a child at a young age, or any child, ever, period.
Kailyn: pumped milk just in case we decided to go out
Kailyn’s friend: it’s your birthday
Have fun trying to describe your life with a child to anyone who doesn’t have a kid. It’s not relatable. Look how many columns and indie-comedies are produced every year by semi-self-aware thirty-somethings trying to describe life after kids and the divide between parents and non-parents. If people with disposable income and time to wax poetic can’t grasp it, teenagers are fucked. Kailyn’s friends are sitting around lamenting the lack of lime in their mojitos, as an aspect of her life that has hugely complicated things (breastfeeding) just goes over their heads. Kailyn looks like she had a fun night out, but I couldn’t help but thing of these poor, delusional girls on 16 and Pregnant who are thinking stretch marks will be the most lasting impact of creating life, and if they could just get back to that pre-pregnancy body everything will be the same. They can still go clubbing, they’ll just need a babysitter. Meanwhile Kailyn’s dressed up in front of a platter of booze and thinking about breastmilk.