Diary

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.

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.

I’m going to be totally honest with y’all. This is one of those posts that I debate whether I should post at all. Not because of any controversial content, but because of the lack of really any content at all. However, due to my OCD, I start to go into withdrawals if I don’t post something. I apologize.

1. One of the highlights of my week this week was when I saw NBC’s fall schedule and realized my prayers have been answered. Friday Night Lights is on the fall schedule for, appropriately, Friday nights at 9:00 central standard time. If I have said it once, I have said it an obsessive amount of times, but it is THE BEST show on television. If y’all haven’t watched it, then I can safely tell you that your enjoyment of life is not all it could be.

But, GOOD NEWS! NBC will start reruns of Season 1 on Sunday, May 27th. Set the DVR and get caught up. It will be like an early Christmas present with a stocking full of chocolate and money.

2. I should be embarrassed to admit this, but I cried like a baby when I watched the series finale of Gilmore Girls. It hasn’t even been very good this year, but it was like saying goodbye to an old friend.

And when I say I cried, I mean I cried like I was afraid my eyes might be puffy the next day. Something tells me that as much as I loved Lorelai and Rory, some PMS might have been partially responsible for the excessive tears. At least I hope so…otherwise, I need to get a life that doesn’t involve being overly attached to fictional characters. There’s a term for people like that, and that term is CRAZY.

3. Grey’s Anatomy…I just don’t know what to say. While last year it was my television BFF, this year it has not been able to compete with Friday Night Lights ( I realize I am obsessed). I thought the season finale was good, but honestly, all the drama is making me a little tired.

I am over Mer and Der. Let’s just move on.

4. This has nothing to do with what has become a T.V. themed post, but last night, P got out of the shower and he called for me to come in the bathroom. I walked in and this is the question that came out of his mouth.

“Did you know there was poop on the bathroom floor?”

Oh, yes. Sure I did. I just figured I’d let it sit there and it would find its way to the toilet eventually. I hated to waste a Viva paper towel picking it up.

And this is why, in real life, Mer and Der would never make it. Because at some point in every mature relationship that leads to marriage and child raising, a time will come when the love of your life asks if you knew there was poop on the bathroom floor.

It just doesn’t make for good T.V.

Let’s be honest, it barely makes for a good blog post.

Y’all have a lovely Friday!