Archive for November 15th, 2007

If I Worked at the NY Post…Briefly

A couple of puns came to me today…the first are inspired by Living Companion, who I now realize suffers from bruxism, which is a fancy way of saying boyfriend grinds his teeth so loud at night, you haven’t lived till you have both woken to the chompy chomp of molars being ground to an inch of their life. So with that on my mind…

What happens when Dr. Jeffrey Gold, DDS (coincidentally my real dentist), gets convicted of selling off his stocks after a secret tip (not something my real dentist has done, to my knowledge), only to find that life in the big house is pretty grand, especially when you can perform acts of dentistry for packs of smokes and 5th Avenue Candy Bars? It’s Shawshank Redemption (the Andy doing people’s taxes part) meets Little Shop of Horrors (just the dentist part)…Incisor Trading!

What happens when Dr. Jeffrey Gold, DDS gets divorced from his wife, Mrs. Dr. Gold, and in the process of trying to win her back, realizes he’s in love with the one person who has been there for him the whole time, his hygienist Tabby? Why it’s Molar Eclipse of the Heart. (Theme song: “Save the Best for Last” by Vanessa Williams, who has a recurring part where she appears to Dr. Gold in his dreams only while singing this song, and every episode he tells this to Tabby who then does a take to the camera and shrugs, roll credits.)

And for the non-tooth related…

What happens when young housewife Deb Hastings, after realizing her life’s in shambles and she’s unhappy, discovers her life’s passion is to turn tricks…no not those tricks…and she realizes a newfound happiness that was previously untapped. Why, the heartwarming Abraca-Debra. (This could also be a title/premise for Everybody Loves Raymond. )

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Au Revoir, Simone

I sympathize completely with the writers who are striking (because I always assumed that someday I might be one of them but Magic 8-Ball say “Outlook Not So Good” on that one). I cringe at the possibility that there might be even more reality programming on TV in the near future. But on a positive note, last night marked the return of the savior of all reality shows, Project Runway. My household happily welcomed back Heidi, Tim, Michael and Nina – it’s been too long, my little grasshoppers.

“In fashion, either you’re in or you’re out” trumps “Pack your knives and go” any day (and the worse the show, the more ridiculous the catch phrase, the peak of this being Top Design’s amazing “See ya later, decorator.”) And while the show is about a competition, it’s really about getting to know a bunch of personalities. Designers. People.

Like, as soon as you saw Chris, the guy who couldn’t run very fast to get to the tent-o-fabric, you immediately think ill of the evil producers and start rooting for him (and even though I’d never wear a high-necked dress, his purple silk thing was GORG), and as soon as Assymetrical Disaster Hair Designer (ADHD) started saying he was so great and Rami was just copying other designers and waah waah, and then we saw that he actually blows his hair dry, I started to think he was my Jeffrey Sebelia (annoying personality, great designs that make personality more forgivable – I really didn’t hate his tailor-made-for-Gwen-Stefani outfit). And I had high hopes for Simone, the Bananarama understudy who actually seemed sane (I guess Victorya will be my go-to sane-seeming woman I could be friends with now), I enjoyed her yellow trim, but alas…she’s auf to a better place.

My favorite moment though came in the course of judging an outfit made by Elisa, the yogini from Crazytown (who is the spawn of former Crazytown deputy mayor and rosette-lover, Angela, and Crazytown’s movie projectionist, Guadalupe). When Heidi Klum, looking at Elisa’s garment, has gems like “It looks like she’s pooing fabric”, it seems like maybe we don’t have to worry about a dearth of entertainment on the TV schedule. Strike away, writers! Take all the time you need, ’cause I think I’ve got myself a new catchphrase that will last a while.

poo
Elisa’s model holds a steaming pile of leftover fabric.

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