Big Mama Blog

And so I’ve been reduced to this

Well since I already admitted to watching Beverly Hills 90210 on Saturday morning, I’d say it’s a safe bet that our weekend didn’t really involve anything that would qualify as exciting.

Basically it was a whole lot of nothing. But I’m not complaining because other than having nothing to write about, non-eventful weekends aren’t a bad thing.

I know y’all will be relieved to know that P was able to save his cellular phone. It’s not quite the phone it used to be, but it’s functional and that’s all that matters. I find it fascinating that his phone was fully submerged in a bucket of water and survived, while I once had a phone that was ruined because I let Caroline teethe on it when she was a baby. Maybe it was the mixture of drool and Gerber teething biscuits that did it in.

It also warmed my heart to know there are many fellow 90210 fans out there. I feel an extra bond knowing we all share a love of a show with some of the best acting and writing in the history of television. I mean when Brenda found out about Dylan and Kelly, I felt her pain even as I sat and ate Double Chocolate Milanos in my dorm room.

And when Donna and David finally got married? I wept real tears. Even though I was twenty-six years old and should have known better.

Speaking of bad T.V., I have another confession to make. But before I do, let me just say that I blame the writers for being on strike. Actually that’s not true, I don’t blame the writers. I blame the hotshots who won’t give in to their demands. GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT. WE NEED TELEVISION. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON AT DUNDER-MIFFLIN. HOW IS THE BEET FARM? HOW IS MOSE?

I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m desperate. How desperate you may ask? (and even if you don’t care, I’m about to tell you)

Desperate enough that I found myself watching the U.S. MEN’S Figure Skating Championships last night.

(Hangs head in shame and humiliation)

I wasn’t going to watch. I vowed the first time I flipped by it on the T.V. that I wouldn’t watch. Then I made a crucial error. I stopped on NBC while I folded some laundry and it sucked me into the vortex that is male figure skating.

Actually, Bob Costas sucked me in. He was discussing the huge rivalry between boy skater #1 and boy skater #2. Apparently there is a lot of trash talking that goes on and from that moment on all I could do was continue folding Caroline’s shirts while pondering what figure skating trash talk sounds like between two men.

“Dude, my mama does a better triple toe loop than you.”

“Nice sequined rose on your costume. Did you get it from your sister?”

And that’s about all I could imagine. Really I imagined more but I’ll spare you the details. Maybe I’m just holding on to some lingering issues with the male figure skating “sport” because we tried to get P on the circuit for years and he never made it.

Oh I kid. P only tried to get on the male figure skating circuit for one year and then gave it up for his love of hunting and watching Ultimate Fighting.

Anyway, the competition last night was very intense. It seems that boy skater #2 beat boy skater #1 last year to become the new champion. There was much on the line according to Bob Costas and y’all know he is never one to overdramatize anything.

It came down to the final skate. Boy #2 was in the lead and it was time for Boy #1. He was amazing and he even did the quadruple whatever, which he’d never done in competition. I was on the edge of the couch and even stopped folding shirts for a half-millisecond.

Then, it was time for the judges to release their scores. THEY ENDED UP WITH THE EXACT SAME SCORE DOWN TO A TENTH OF A POINT. However, boy #2 won because he had a higher score in the free skate competition and I guess that’s written in some rule book somewhere.

The tying scores were UNPRECEDENTED. Scott Hamilton and Bob Costas were in shock and awe and made pointless analogies about the odds of this happening. According to them, people will be talking about this FOR YEARS.

Who are these people? I don’t believe I know them.

You know who I know? Michael Scott, Jim, Pam, Dwight Schrute. Please WRITERS and EXECUTIVES, let’s all make nice and get some better T.V. going and SOON.

Between 90210 and men’s ice skating, I’ve forgotten what well-written drama looks like.

Well, except for the ongoing all new episodes of Friday Night Lights. But that’s a whole other subject.

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I am but an optimistic fool

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Several of y'all have emailed to ask what I thought about last night's episode of The Bachelor. I wasn't going to talk about it because my feelings for The Bachelor are similar to how you feel when you keep telling your friends you're going to break up with a loser boyfriend but instead keep going back to him.

Not that I'd know anything about that.

I've just heard that some girls in their late teens are guilty of that kind of behavior.

So here's the real question.

Has The Bachelor ever really been a great show?

No. No it hasn't. But it sucks me in every season with scenes from the upcoming season of girls falling down stairs, being driven off in ambulances, catfights, and the voice of Host Chris Harrison saying "This season is the most dramatic season yet".

And because I'm a trusting fool, I can't turn away.

Darn you Chris Harrison. Darn you and your empty promises.

It's the same reason I watched ER for the first 34 years it was on. The NBC promo would come on and let me know that "this week's episode will have everyone in America talking" and I'd fall for it hook, line, and sinker. I mean I couldn't stand the thought of being the loneliest person in America while everyone around me bonded over Dr. Romano being crushed by a helicopter.

Anyway, The Bachelor let me down once again last night. It was ABC editing at its finest, leading us all to believe that we were about to see a real love story play out on national television.

LIARS.

HUGE LIARS.

I had high hopes for Brad Womack. I thought he was different. He seemed a little less polished than previous bachelors and I found it endearing that every line he spoke sounded as if he were reading cue cards. But, as the ending became obvious, I realized we were seeing the reason why a good-looking, 35 year old Texas boy is still single.

I believe he has some commitment issues.

And that last scene of him sitting on that random platform with a single tear streaming down his face as he held that engagement ring? I think it was a bad call by ABC.

The last scene should have been Jenni and DeAnna sitting together eating out of a huge tub of Ben & Jerry's talking about how they can do so much better. Now THAT would be some good T.V.

However, all this said, I'll still be tuning in to After The Rose later tonight.

I realize I have a sickness.

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It’s a veritable sea of television riches

About a week ago, Gulley informed me she had purchased the new special issue of TV Guide featuring the scoop on all the new fall shows. Her exact words the next day were “I was up until midnight trying to power through the fall schedule”.

And I laughed.

But that was before she loaned me her copy of TV Guide and I, too, had to power through it.

This happens every fall. After the long television drought of summer, the promise of a brighter tomorrow in the form of quality viewing finally arrives. It’s such a hopeful time filled with much promise and anticipation.

Of course, for every “Friday Night Lights” there is a “Vanished”.

What’s “Vanished”?

That’s exactly my point.

So, after spending way too much time perusing the T.V. guide, while perhaps even using a highlighter, I believe I have come up with the shows I will watch or, at the very least, give a whirl.

Monday night is always a banner night. 4 words.

“Dancing with the Stars”. This year, they are using the term “star” loosely.

Although there will never be another Emmitt, this season features Wayne Newton, Marie Osmond and Jane Seymour. We’re bound to either see some good dancing or watch someone break a hip on national television. I am fired up.

Yes, I realize it came on yesterday, but I haven’t watched it yet. It’s waiting for me on the DVR because I’ve only had time to watch…

“The Bachelor”.

My enjoyment of “The Bachelor” has increased 100 fold since I’ve come to the realization that none of these couples will ever last. I just sit back and watch the drama unfold. Watching “The Bachelor” is the equivalent of eating 100 Kit Kats at one sitting, you know it’s too much, but it’s so good you can’t help yourself.

This season’s bachelor is from Austin, Texas. He owns a bar called The Chuggin’ Monkey. It’s obviously upscale.

And classy.

On Monday night, one woman even showed off her webbed toes in an effort to make a good first impression.

Webbed toes.

That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Well, except for this. Ladies, if any of y’all are single, do NOT show off your webbed toes on a first date. Webbed toes should be saved for at least the 11th date.

Or perhaps even marriage.

Tuesday nights have nothing to offer in my opinion. Which is a relief. It will give me time to read a book or something.

Although, let’s be honest, I’ll probably need this time to catch up on all the hour long dramas I am attempting to fit into my viewing schedule.

Wednesday nights present a huge dilemma for me. There are way too many shows I’d like to check out, but alas, I can only record two things on my DVR at one time. And that’s only if P isn’t home.

Because if he’s home, there is no way he’s going to sit around and not watch T.V. so that I can record “America’s Next Top Model”, “Private Practice”, and “Bionic Woman”, otherwise known as the Estrogen Fest.

Not to mention, he may want to record something like “Babe Winkelman’s Guide to the Outdoors”.

I wish I were kidding.

So, if I had to pick (It’s like Sophie’s Choice, how do I make this decision? Here have an arm. No, have a leg.) I’ll choose “Private Practice”. And truth be told, I can catch up with all the future top models on some kind of VH-1 marathon at some point.

Here’s a little secret. I don’t believe any of them have really gone on to be America’s Next Top Model, although one of them married the guy who played Peter Brady.

Not exactly a threat to Gisele Bundchen’s career.

I will be sad to let go of “Bionic Woman” because I have a glimmer of hope that it could fill the void in my heart that’s been there since “Alias” went off the air. No one will ever rock some hot pink hair like Sydney Bristow, but I feel like television is ready for another female that can kick some boo-tay.

This brings us to Thursday night.

Oh, Thursday nights. You have always been my night of must-see T.V. and you don’t disappoint. Once again, the DVR will be going at full steam. I’ll record “Ugly Betty” and “Grey’s Anatomy” to watch at a later time, while P and I will watch “My Name is Earl” and “The Office”.

Best of all, the first four episodes of “The Office” will each be an hour long.

God is good, my friends.

Last, but certainly not least, is “Friday Night Lights”. I think my love, bordering on obsession, for “Friday Night Lights” has been well-documented at this point. If I had to pick only one show to watch (and I think this post proves how hard that would be) I would choose “Friday Night Lights”.

Seriously.

Like I tell P every week, it’s the best show on television.

And that’s saying something because you have to work hard to be better than a cheesy reality show starring a bar owner who will date girls named Sheena and McCarten. ($50.00 says they made those names up to be memorable, which is a far better strategy than demonstrating your ability to be a human pretzel while on national television)

So, tell me I’m not the only one who seriously thought about charting out the fall T.V. schedule. What shows do y’all have to watch? Any new shows you’ll be giving a try?

And if you don’t watch T.V. and only read books, what’s that like?

I used to read, but then I had a child and now I have the attention span of a gnat, but not as many brain cells.

T.V. is my friend.

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Here she is, not Miss America

Summer television makes me sad. Back before I had a child I didn’t really notice how bad summer T.V. can be. I mean, who cares about T.V.? Let’s go to the movies, or out to dinner, or whatever. Oh, but now I find myself flipping through the channels hoping that Lifetime will air some quality, quality movie about a woman who was taken advantage of, but fought her way back to the top, and got custody of her children, and became CEO of some corporation while fighting breast cancer.

And the odds of that movie being on Lifetime are actually pretty good.

Other than that, I watch Top Chef because y’all know what a sophisticate I am when it comes to my palate. I’m waiting for the episode where they see who can make the best meal using Long John Silver’s fish and chips with malt vinegar sauce as the base ingredient. Now that would be a meal I could get behind.

So, last night, I was going through my 452 channels looking for something to watch, when what did I spy? A gift sent straight from heaven.

Miss Texas USA.

When I was little, I adored watching all the pageants. I remember sitting in front of the T.V. with a pad of paper so that I could keep track of everyone’s scores and make notes about various performances which, looking back, was maybe a little more intense than a 3rd grader needs to be. In my mind, I truly believed that boys grew up to be President of the United States and girls grew up to be Miss America. It was the pinnacle role of womanhood.

Obviously, I grew up in a household with strong, feminist sensibilities.

And really, other than the fact that my mama kept my hair rolled in pink, foam rollers and attempted to teach me how to twirl the baton, there wasn’t a whole lot of pageant-y activity going on at my house during my childhood. But once a year I would sit in front of the T.V. and dream about being crowned Miss America.

It’s not that I dreamed of dressing up like a giant oil well and coming out on stage and yelling, “HOWDY Y’ALL! I’M BIG MAMA AND I’M MISS JEFFERSON COUNTY!” because let’s be honest, is that anyone’s dream? It’s just that the whole pageant thing seemed so glamorous with all the evening gowns and swimsuits worn with high heels. And the hair. Oh, I coveted the hair.

In fact, I remember being about 8 or 9 years old and pointing out a picture of Loni Anderson on the cover of Redbook Magazine to my mama and telling her I wished my hair looked like that. And really, what 8 year old wouldn’t look just PRECIOUS with some peroxide and Aqua Net creating a flaxen helmet on her head?

Watching Miss Texas USA last night, I realized I would have been all wrong for the role. For one thing, I would have collapsed into paroxysms of laughter that would have caused my double-sided tape to come loose, if I ever found myself being serenaded by a choir boy dressed up like a sailor as he looked into my eyes and sang “I need you beside me, to hold me, to scold me ‘cuz when I’m bad, I’m so, so bad”. I feel certain that Donna Summer never intended for her disco anthem, “Last Dance”, to be sung by faux sailors. It’s just wrong.

And the fake press conferences where they make contestants field all the questions? So painful.

I actually had to hide my head under a pillow while willing the contestants to please stop talking while they were ahead. Please don’t say “world peace” is the reason you’d make a great Miss Texas USA.

Then, at the end as the judges tallied their final results, they brought out all the girls that didn’t make the top 5 to do a little song and dance routine for the crowd. Find pillow. Hide head.

I don’t have a problem with pageants. I know they provide scholarships, and new Ford Mustang convertibles, and diamond tiaras, and those are all good things. Very good things. I’m just saying that I haven’t seen choreography that bad since Mr. LaForge made us do arm movements to “Human Nature” by Michael Jackson in 7th grade choir at Marshall Middle School.

The pageant ended as they all do. The reigning Miss Texas USA took her farewell promenade as her pre-taped voiceover thanked everyone from her parents, to God, to her hairdresser, to her double-sided tape for their vital support in her life. They shuffled her off the stage and got down to the real drama.

The runner-ups. I don’t know if y’all have ever heard this, but the runner-ups are vital because if for any reason the new Miss Texas USA is unable to fulfill her duties, then all power is transferred to the 1st runner-up. Who knew?

The last two girls stood facing each other, clutching hands, vowing that the other one deserved to win, and that they would always be BFF no matter what. The witty emcee did a priceless stalling technique to add to the mounting tension. Then, the first runner-up was declared, leaving the new Miss Texas USA crying and speechless as they speared her crown to her head.

I yelled in the kitchen to P that this was just bad, bad television and questioned why I would even watch something this hokey and contrived. But then, they asked the new Miss Texas USA how she felt and she said she was so excited about the new car because she was currently driving a 1995 Ford Escort. With that admission, I decided I liked her. Anyone who will own up to driving a 12 year old Ford Escort on national, or at least statewide, T.V. is my kind of girl, even if she does put tape on her bottom to minimize the appearance of cellulite.

It’s just proof that America is still the land of opportunity. One day you’re driving an old Ford, the next day you’re driving a new Ford.

And wearing a tiara.

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DVR stands for Done Very wRong

We’ve all had people in our lives who have hurt us, betrayed us, broken our hearts. Oh, they promise they won’t do it again and then they do, which just makes us feel all the more foolish for trusting them in the first place.

So, you can completely understand why I will never trust my DVR again.

I half watched/half fast forwarded through 2 excruciating hours of filler material on American Idol tonight, only to get down to the scene of Jordin and Blake awaiting the final results and discover my DVR has cut me off. Dirty, stinking tramp of a DVR. We are so over.

And yes, I went to Fox News to find out that Jordin won, but you and I both know it’s just not the same. I was deprived of the dramatic finish that I feel sure would have brought me to tears. And I know I can watch it on YouTube or whatever, but it’s NOT THE SAME.

Oh DVR, who wooed me and promised to be so much better than my old VCR, you are a filthy, filthy liar. From now on, you occupy the same place of distrust and unreliability as my nemesis, the crispy beef taco.

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