Tag Archives: TV

A True Daily Double

I love Jeopardy, but quite frankly, those people are freaks.

Teen Week is the one time of year that I feel pretty smart (well, save for the final championship in which I realize a high school junior just won a Jeopardy tournament while I was skipping class and debating the merits of flavored Lip Smackers during my junior year—but still on the Honor’s Society, mind you.)

Anyway, when I watch regular Jeopardy I get excited if I get at least one or two questions right each round. Half of the time I don’t even know what the question is asking.

How these people know about countries with a population of three people, two endangered unicorns and several species of rare flora or lines from books written in 1875 is beyond me.

Give me categories that involve food, sports or some type of crafty wordplay and I can occasionally run a category. Once in awhile something from high school science or college French will pop into my head and I’ll get a question right.

I will then proceed to celebrate and miss hearing the next three questions/answers.

If by some divine intervention I am able to correctly answer the Final Jeopardy question, I pretty much start filling out applications for Mensa before I realize it’s a lot of work and instead go get a snack.

My point is that these people are quite amazing. Even the weirdos that completely blank out and end up getting their name wrong still had to qualify to make it on the show. That is much more than I will ever (desire to) do, so props to them. But I do have a suggestion for the contestants:

Work on the interview portion a bit, eh?

Those 30 seconds of awkward “social” interaction with Alex usually cancel out any envy I had for their mental acuity. That might sound harsh, but that time should not be spent sharing that you have an extensive collection of Beanie Babies or that you once found a potato chip that looked like Jesus skiing.

If you have time to memorize the temperature of every star in the solar system, you have time to plan this part out a little better. Maybe run the idea by your friends and family if only to spare them from fast-forwarding through this part at the watch party you will throw yourself when the show airs.

You’re smart. At least make something up or throw in a “Suck it, Trebek.”

Just make sure not to ask for a vowel.

What is, “Like the blog? Buy the book.”

I grew up watching game shows  like Scrabble, Classic Concentration, Press Your Luck, etc. with my grandma. While there are many shows I would go on, I think I would still like to go for Big Bucks, No Whammies.

And you? What game show would you go on?

Shocking Plot Twists!

While I love my routines, I hate predictability when it comes to the storylines in books, TV shows and movies. If I can figure out what’s going to happen five minutes in, you’ve lost me.

So I present to you a more realistic view of some stories you might have been told.

Shocking Plot Twists and Untold Stories, Revealed!

Belle (Beauty) and the Beast split up shortly after they realize they don’t have any dishes or household products that actually work. If you will recall, theirs spend a majority of the time singing and dancing.

While entertaining at first, it soon became evident that a talking candlestick and chipped, chatty tea cup don’t do much more than provide an audience for the newlyweds as they argue about hair in the sink and the fact that Belle’s dad won’t move out.

With Yogi taking the role of the friendly picnic basket thief, Smokey the Bear was discovered to actually be the one starting a majority of forest fires. In an attempt to maintain job security, Smokey apparently felt his only inroad to fame was deceit and a penchant for arson.

If you give a mouse a cookie, he will not ask for a glass of milk, want to look in a mirror to make sure he doesn’t have a milk mustache, etc. like the story would have you believe. Instead he will try and take residence up in the pantry, crap all over and fall victim to an edible eviction at the hands of a domestic feline who can sniff out fear and fur.

As it turns out, the beautiful Rapunzel doesn’t let her hair down just for any man—she lets it down for every man. After leading the love-struck fools into her web of hair extensions and thinly-spread lies for too long, friends and family stage an intervention. However, Rapunzel instead decides to cut off her hair, sell it on eBay and try out for “The Bachelor.”

CSI Episode: No one is killed. The detectives hang in the office and play Bananagrams.

Philosophical differences between neighbors Johnny Appleseed, a kind soul who loves to plant apple trees and protect them from harm, and Paul Bunyan, a testosterone egomaniac who cuts down the trees with one swoop of his axe, land these two on Judge Judy.

It gets dirty. Johnny brings up how Paul never picks up the literal bull shit that Babe the Blue Ox leaves around. Paul counters with an argument about property lines and the tree that is actually his. Judge Judy sighs, rolls her eyes and rules in favor of Johnny because Paul wore jeans into court. Her ruling is final.

After hearing about Snow White’s brush with a necrophilia-driven Prince, an evil Queen and a life filled with cooking, cleaning and keeping house for seven “little people” while they mine for jewels and go out at night, TLC offers Snow White her own reality show.

The only requirement is that she incorporate the dwarfs and cupcakes somehow to appeal to their core demographic. She accepts and “Good Things Come in Small Packages” is a huge hit.

The Little Engine that Could, best known for optimistically chanting, “I think I can, I think I can,” could overcome every seemingly impossible task except being cited for EPA clean air violations. He thought he could, but he can’t—until he cleans up his act.

We’ll end with the first story told—Adam and Eve. However, in this instance Eve says she can’t eat the apple because there’s no proof that it’s 100 percent non-GMO organic. Adam, annoyed and exasperated with Eve—but more importantly, ravenously hungry—grabs the apple, his junk behind the strategically-placed fig leaf and chows down.

I think we know how this ends.

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Take Notes, Hollywood

As I was fishing chickpeas out of the sink the other day, I was reminded that I’m why I can’t have nice things—and also why I will never have a movie made about my life.


But if Lifetime’s Meredith Baxter-Birney retires from storylines involving a drug-addicted woman scorned by conjoined twin husbands and decides to go a new route—enter my life as a movie—I have a few suggestions for the writers.

  • A montage of me wandering around the kitchen wondering why I went in there, each scene featuring a different, stylish T-shirt.
  • Plot twists around why the cat’s head is wet and covered in catnip and an existential crisis upon realizing the excitement for electric tweezers exhibited by people in infomercials far exceeds any emotional reaction I’ve ever had for anything with my job.
  • Simple dialogue involving key phrases such as, “I’m confused,” “Not now, I’m eating,” “Ouch” and “Why is there such a high divorce rate among my socks?”
  • Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On” would play every time I sit down to eat a meal, with “I Am Woman” supplying the background music every time I remember to put out the recycle bin.

And if you need more storylines, it might be helpful to take a look at a few of my tweets from the past couple of weeks.

Take notes, Hollywood. Take notes.

A squirrel just ran by the deck with a piece of bread. If another one shows up with a Mimosa, does this count as hosting a brunch?

As she watched her little dog pee into the wind, she took pride in the fact at least this time, he didn’t tip over.

“That girl graduated from college and still goes out in the snow in PJs and flip-flops to fill the feeder. Money well spent.” – My neighbors

If they don’t want an impromptu dance party in the store, they shouldn’t play Michael Jackson’s “Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground.)”

Tortillas are like little warm blankets for food.

“The best option here is to panic.” – My brain when I think that I’ve lost my chapstick.

Days when my underwear matches my outfit make me feel like I’ve really got it together.

I came across two decapitated Barbie torsos on the sidewalk. I’m disturbed, yet slightly intrigued.

When I’m feeling down, I make a list of things to look forward to. Today’s just said “food” and “sleep.” Pretty good list.

“You must do the thing you think you cannot do” she said to herself as she prepared to say Worcestershire sauce.

I dreamed about work last night and now I’m at work. I’m not impressed with this “living the dream” thing.

The irony of watching “Fashion Police” while on the couch in yoga pants isn’t lost on me.

Becoming a member of the Swiffer Facebook Fan Club is the closest I’ll ever come to joining a gang.

I’m for equal rights so I just used the often neglected back left burner on my stove. Follow my lead, people.

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world,” I whisper to myself as I replace the empty paper towel roll in the office kitchen.

My one-woman show “Help Me I’m Trapped In my Sweatshirt!” is garnering some major buzz from the cat.

My Sunday morning walk of shame includes a fabric softener sheet falling out of the leg of my pants at the gym.

Again, that’s just a sample. I suppose that means several sequels could be made, not to mention a line of action figures featuring a variety of interchangeable workout pants and sweatshirts tinged with the light scent of garlic.

All I ask is that the bust region resemble more “Barbie” than “Skipper.” Let’s make this happen, people. 

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It’s time for audience participation!

If you were to have a movie made about your life, what actor/actress would you want to play you in the film?

Truth In Advertising

I’m not one of those fancy people that has a DVR to record shows without commercial interruption. This means that when I have the TV on and I’m doing other things at the same time instead of sitting there to watch the show I was waiting to sit down and watch, I am exposed to advertising.

While some commercials are highly entertaining—I could watch the Slowsky’s all day—most of them are annoying and last so long that I’ve forgotten what show I was watching and vow to never buy their product.

But in the spirit of expanding my worldly knowledge to dispense among the dozens of you who flock to this blog, I decided to share some insight.

What I’ve Learned from Watching TV Commercials

  • I have a majority of side effects of multiple prescription drugs that I’ve never even taken. 
  • Men are all balding, irresponsible and only respond to sex, food and things that explode. They can’t be trusted to buy anything without their wives or girlfriends, but they can however use a grill while wearing an apron and smiling. 
  • Lipstick is made of some cement-like substance that will never come off until you tell it to.
  • Melted cheese must be stretched out before consumption and a frozen dinner is apparently the secret ingredient to spicing up a romantic evening.
  • Outback Steakhouse is really, really Australian.
  • When a family gets a new luxury SUV,  the first thing they do is take it off road and drive through one-lane mountain passes and water-covered roadways at breakneck speed.
  • Everyone laughs when they’re eating candy or wearing a tampon.
  • On that note, it’s perfectly acceptable to pull out an unused tampon and show it off in a group setting.
  • Kids don’t watch TV–they watch toasters—and they find it fun to patiently wait for their Pillsbury Toaster Strudel.
  • Every one of my local news stations is the most accurate, watching out for me more than anyone else and willing to put their lives on the line to bring me the news.
  • Senior citizens with bowel and bladder problems spend part of every day in tennis whites.
  • In order to get rich, I need to get attacked by a dog or injured in an automobile accident, in the workplace or through a hospital’s negligence so I can sue (and the lawyer can afford to not make his/her own commercials.)
  • No one can back their car out of a garage or driveway without incident.
  • All breakfast foods aimed at children now contain “More Fiber!” than it takes to fill an industrial silo, which leads me to believe all children are constipated.
  • Speaking of that, when a group of female friends get together they spend all their time talking about constipation or eating yogurt, which is apparently the key to fulfilling their innermost serenity (the yogurt, not constipation.)
  • Bacon and diarrhea have the same manic PR person, as almost every commercial includes one or the other.
  • The factory workers who make Honey Bunches of Oats act like they’re personally responsible for the cereal satisfaction of every person on the planet.
  • If I use a certain whitening toothpaste, not only will it land me a boyfriend, but I’ll also be able to land planes at night due to the brightness of my choppers.

Advertising dollars well spent.

What have you learned from TV commercials?


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If You Can’t Take The Heat

Despite the fact that my cooking style is not a style at all, I love food shows like “Restaurant: Impossible,” “Unwrapped” and those that are competition-related.

I admit I enjoy seeing people running around kitchens and getting judged on things that will never happen in real life—like creating 1,000 cupcakes in two hours or seeing the Iron Chef chairman back-flip into the kitchen with a sword and orders to cook a whole meal with a walnut.

I also realize they’re bit ridiculous, so I’ve included a few things you can expect to see almost every episode from a couple of them that I watch.


When it comes to American Gordon Ramsay shows, I prefer “Kitchen Nightmares,” but the new season of “Hell’s Kitchen” just started.  The gist is 18 competitors subject themselves to verbal abuse and backstabbing manipulation in an attempt to cook their way into a head chef position at one of Ramsay’s restaurants.

With his reputation on the line, Gordon doesn’t take any of the bull crap. This produces a lot of colorful dialogue, gourmet dishes and the illusion that the cooks have learned something other than British profanity.

  • When actually asked to cook, contestants suddenly forget how to boil water and Gordon will throw things at them.
  • Someone will overcook fish and undercook rice, crimes ranking second only to “being a cow” in the world of Ramsay.
  • Gordon will yell, “Shut it down!” in the middle of the service.
  • Gordon will yell, “This is raw! You’re going to kill somebody!”
  • Gordon will yell that every service is “the worst dinner service in history!”
  • Contestants will sell out their mother in a dramatic tribal counsel-like elimination ceremony in an effort to not have their picture burned as the show fades to the closing credits.
  • When dramatically forced to give over their apron, the eliminated chef will say, “you haven’t seen the last of me.” You will have seen the last of them.

Moral of the story: It’s scripted and over the top, but until the British versions of Ramsay’s shows are available OnDemand, I take what I can get.

Also, don’t ever make a mistake or Gordon will throw it at you.


Four chefs compete before a panel of three expert judges to create a three-course meal in under 30 minutes or so with “mystery ingredients” found in a basket. Once they’re done, they present each course to the unenthused judges and one chef gets chopped. The winner gets $10,000.

  • First of all, the secret ingredient in every single dish is sweat. Although entertaining to watch, you’ll be completely grossed out and wonder how anyone can eat anything presented.
  • Whoever creates the basket is a sadistic bastard. “For the dessert round, you have to use unicorn horn, pancetta, pink currants, crème fraiche.” Really?
  • At least one contestant will bring up the fact they’re self-taught, are competing for a dying relative or that they “didn’t come here to lose.” (That’s probably a good competition strategy.)
  • One of the judges will flap their hands around in the final seconds of a round yelling, “just get something on the plate!” and then bitch about whatever ended up on the plate.
  • The host—Ted Allen—will inevitably try to talk to a contestant while they are moving really fast, get in their way and stress them out even more.
  • After forgetting to use a required ingredient or stabbing Ted when he tried to talk to them, a contestant will angrily blame the judges, the oven or the contestants for losing.
  • When interviewed, they will say, “you haven’t seen the last of me.” You will have seen the last of them.

Moral of the story: The only way I could compete on this show is if the basket ingredients were avocado, sprouted grain bread and Bobby Flay himself.

So spill it—do you watch any food shows? If not, what’s the one thing you would cook if you were put on the spot?


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Merry Muting

I understand that commercials are a necessary part of TV programming, but I have to think my grandma had it right when I was younger, as she would mute the TV every time a commercial came on.

She would often get distracted and forget to unmute which meant I never found out the first Jeopardy answer after commercial break, but creating those three or so minutes of silence makes much more sense now that I’m older.

Don’t get me wrong in that there are a lot of good commercials out there—I have been and always will be in love with the Slowskys—but the majority of ads that run are horribly annoying.

Now I don’t know if I’m just getting old and Scroogey, but this year it seems the holiday commercials are the worst.

Exhibit A—the Target Woman.


I tweeted a couple weeks ago how I wouldn’t be sad if this Amy Sedaris lookalike who screeches and pulls a variety of rubber faces as she gets in shape for Target’s doorbuster sales was hit by a bus. Although the sentiment might have seemed harsh at the time, I feel it’s fitting after having been exposed to her for the past two weeks.

I’m sure she’s a nice person, but her character is insane and she makes me slightly stabby, as did the Kohls Rebecca Black-ish version of their Black Friday jingle.  While I’m sure creating conversation was the point—well played Tar-jay—visions of violence dance through my head when exposed to her antics.

Exhibit B—Jewelry ads

Cue cheesy background music and a setting that involves a fireplace and gently falling snow, with two people casually huddled around the tree with hot cocoa as he pulls out a small box to surprise her with a rock of some sort.


They kiss, hopefully enticing the viewer into going out and making an expensive purchase to complete their own holiday scene. 


What they don’t show you is that later he poses under the mistletoe wearing nothing but a well-placed Santa hat, thinking that small little box with the bow has earned him  at least a few nights of appreciation. She will be too busy putting a picture of the ring on Facebook to show off to her friends to notice him—or care when she does—meaning the ornaments on the tree won’t be the only blue balls in the room.

Exhibit C—Car Commercials

Now let me ask you this. How many people do you know that received a Lexus giftwrapped with a giant bow out in their driveway on Christmas morning? If you answered more than zero, I will feel like I hardly know you anymore.


Between the the Lexus December to Remember campaign and Honda’s “Holiday oh-ah Holiday” ads, it makes me want to run people over with my Blazer (complete with new fuel pump, Merry Christmas to me.)


And while I have no solid evidence, I swear that commercials for dating sites ramp it up for the holidays. It’s like they want to either a) remind you that you’re alone and no one will ever leave you a Lexus outside or b) prepare you emotionally for the relatives who will soon remind you that you’re alone and no one will ever leave you a Lexus outside. 

‘Tis the season for Merry Muting.

I don’t want to seem like a total commercial Grinch, so I’ll leave you with the Best of the Slowskys. It’s not holiday commercial related, but darn it, it’s a commercial and I love them.


Is there a particular holiday commercial you love or you hate?

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Why I Don’t Have a Reality Show

The weekend is upon us, which means people are talking with each other about their weekend plans—going out, heading up to the lake for one last weekend, getting together with friends and gossiping about the friends that aren’t out with them, too. 

Truth be told, I hate being asked what I’m doing because it’s usually comparably lame. While I enjoy being social in small doses, I get more excited about plans being cancelled than I would if I actually participated in the plans. My perfect weekend is usually spent outside, putzing around the house, watching the games and generally not having to be anywhere at any time.

In other words, just like I’ll never have a cooking show, I will never have a reality show.

And thank goodness for Twitter, because I can  prove my point with actual tweets from this past weekend. Now keep in mind that these aren’t all my tweets. I did do actual stuff that went undocumented and I only tweet from my computer and not a phone super glued to my hand, but they give you a general chronological idea of how my Friday through Sunday was spent—in 140 characters or less.

The Tweet-end

Yes, thank you everyone for reminding me it’s Friday and you’re happy. In other news, restaurants serve food.

It’s probably not a good things to have left the house wondering if you remembered to put makeup on.

It’s Friday. I’m going on a bender of the cleaning variety. This is why I don’t have a reality show.

Forgetting to ventilate makes bonding with Scrubbing Bubbles much more interesting.

Stretching and carbo loading for the game tonight. You know, the one I’m going to sit on my ass and watch for three hours. #MLB

I would be a social butterfly if it didn’t involve other people. And bras.

Her cat’s on a leash, yet the children run free. Something’s wrong with this picture.

If you steal my tomatoes, I will steal your tomatoes. You’ve been warned, crazy chain-smoking neighbor lady. You’ve been warned.

Maybe it’s because I’m Polish, but I think babushkas need to make a comeback. #NatalieDee


Even though I love them, steamed Brussel sprouts totally smell like urine.

It’s raining and I feel lazy. I can’t be certain, but I think there might be a correlation.

It stopped raining, so I have no excuse to be lazy. However, now back-to-back ballgames are on. I’m officially dating my couch.

Why are your teeth on the table? Don’t throw ham! Hold it until we get back to your room! Did you just pinch me? Old people are exhausting.

Watched a squirrel for 10 minutes. Thought "Wow, squirrels are so easily entertained." Realized I just watched a squirrel for 10 minutes.

Growing up on Disney movies has left me so disillusioned about small woodland creatures and their willingness to help me with my chores.

I don’t know what makes me sadder to see on my walk–road kill or a dropped and melted ice cream cone.

Apparently two allergy pills have the same effect as two Vodka gimlets on my ass. I will not be operating heavy machinery.

I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a blue cardinal at my bird feeder. #Iamthebirdwhisperer

I’m beginning to resent the birds and squirrels for their entitlement issues via the feeder.

Tomorrow is the one week anniversary of my 30th birthday. In lieu of cards and gifts, just send cash.

So as you can see, unless I add in a cupcake competition with midgets and choreographed dance numbers, I don’t think I’ll be getting my own show any time soon. But I’m okay with that, seeing as it would probably involve makeup and interrupt my standing Friday night date at the grocery store.

Plus, dozens would be lost without my minimal presence on “The Twitter” and updates on small woodland creatures treating my fountain like a day spa. 

What can I say (in 140 characters or less)?

I have no shame. 

I won’t hypocritically ask you what you’re doing this weekend, but feel free to tell me what you’re looking forward to—even if it’s just doing nothing. However, I do want to know:

“If you had a reality show, what would it be called?”