I emerged from my apartment exactly twice this weekend-- once, to take out the trash and kitty litter (see, I'm at least germ-free, if otherwise slovenly) and once to get margaritas on Saturday night. The rest of the weekend was spent watching not writing the paper that I probably should have submitted in July, making a million lists for things I have to do at work this week (the busiest week of the year for my job), and watching bad TV.
And friends, when I say bad TV, I mean BAD TV. In no particular order, this weekend I watched:
- at least three hours of wedding programming on WE! (say it like "wheeee! Women's Entertainment! Wheeeee!"), ranging from PWT bridezillas to this girl who spent $80,000 on her gown. I can think of lots of good ways to spend $80,000, and almost none of them involve Swarovski crystals.
- The Notebook. Twice.
- The Oklahoma State Sugar Art show, as broadcast over the Food Network. It's actually not a bad show-- think Project Runway, but with cake decorating and mullets-- but still shameful because this is the second time I've watched it. The first time was the Sunday after my Bat Mitzvah, where B padded over through two feet of snow and we gnawed on Dominos and draped ourselves all over the couch whining about our hangovers and laughing at the female judge's hairpiece. And yes boys, we are both single.
- Degrassi. You already know I have a weakness for the BBC, but Saturday night centered on Canadian teen soap operas on The N! (why must all these networks have exclamation points?). They happened to be holding a marathon of every Degrassi episode ever, which for me is the equivalent of the heavens opening and the sky ringing with the trumpets of seraphim sounding the coming of Our Lord. After drinks and greasy Mexican food I dragged my friend K back to her house and made her watch four consecutive episodes. It is to her credit that she not only didn't walk out of the room, but that by the end of the two hours she developed very strong opinions on Paige's nose and repeatedly asked for clarification as to the Kevin Smith story arc. Way to drink the Koolaid, K. I am so proud.
- The entire Emmy preshow and the Emmys. Observations recorded during these: 1) Ryan Seacrest, just by pretending to not know who Zac Posen is, is STILL NOT FOOLING ANYONE, and 2) Katherine Heigl looked unbelievably gorgeous, but her look took me straight back to her performance in my all-time favorite Disney TV movie Wish Upon a Star. I have not the words for how much I love this movie, and the gleeful squeal I emit when I catch it on TV is matched only by that I also issue for when Death of A Cheerleader is on Lifetime Television for Women. It's basically Freaky Friday with sisters, and was made in that great post-Clueless period of fashion where every girl was wearing sheer knee-high white stockings and clunky platform shoes, preferably topped off by a teeny drawstring-closure backpack. I also loved it because the older sister's boyfriend is way hot and the whole movie is actually rather risque for a Disney flick (they make out with TONGUE and get HICKEYS) (and there's a whole subplot involving the little sister in a dominatrix outfit). If I ever met Katherine Heigl, I'd totally gush about this movie to her face and she'd probably be all "the hell is that bitch talking about? I'm on Grey's Anatomy, damnit!"
Delicious, sweet, gluttonous weekend television, how I love thee so.
Ugh, and now I have to go pretend to be an adult all week. Eat me, real world.