Yesterday morning I almost threw up all over myself (and my boss) at a packed event – and a mustard yellow spectator mary jane with a 5 inch wooden heel in not the kind of shoe you want to be running in, vomit-covered.
My near-reputation-ending scene stems from the fact that there are three things that can happen on tv (or in a film slash webseries and obvs therefore in real life) that freak me out to the point of near-vom.
- Suspenseful gun action – not like a police shoot out where we know dozens of cops have guns and will use them. I’m talking long, quiet, drawn-out scenes where a gunman is pursuing some innocent and unknowing victim in some terrifying place like a basement, or Seattle Grace Hospital (still shaking). My palms get sweaty, my stomach feels like I just relented to going on Tower of Terror, and then I do this (I think) very clever move where I point my head in the direction of the TV but am actually looking in a totally different direction. All but one guy has fallen for this. I stopped seeing him immediately
- That moment in a surgery where they first cut into the skin –A. eew and B. if they’re showing it it’s probably because something even more eew is underneath the surface of the skin. I literally close my eyes, five-year-old style, with the one fingers slightly separated so I can peak out incase, I don’t know, I grow the hell up between the time the scene begins and ends?
- any scene in which someone who has secretly loved someone for an extended period of time confesses that love – like one person has been harboring a secret crush on another person for years and finally for whatever reason slash drug cocktail decides to come clean. Examples include when Julie Roberts confessed her love to Dermott Mulroney in My Best Friends Wedding. I just go fetal position.
Yesterday the CW previewed their new reality series Plain Jane at the upfront. There I was in the aforementioned yellow heels enjoying montages from the best looking shows in television history and texting everyone I knew would freak about the surprise Katy Perry performance (so, Brian) when this horror show pops upon the big screen.
Synopsis: a painfully perfect British brunette named Louise or Eloise or Beatrice or whatever helps your average teenaged plain jane gain the style, confidence, and eyes brows to finally confess that she’s totally in love with her male best friend, to him.
In theory this is a show about a girl who gets days worth of coaching on how to love herself and wear clothes that fit. In reality this is a show about a girl who spends a week preparing for what could be the most devastating five seconds of her life. I’d like to recommend they cut the wardrobe, confidence coaching and hair budget and just buy that poor girl a bottle of vodka.
You know, first we mar sixteen above average Americans on an Island and make them survive while wearing a dumb-colored lycra tube. Then we put obese people in spandex and weight them on national television. And last year we created a rubberized obstacle course, dropped it into a mud pit and laughed our asses off as people careened off it in three to five seconds. But this, this is crossing a line.
When, during the first few seconds of the show Perfect Spice says to our Anna-Hathaway-in-Princess-Dairies, “and I undah-staand there’s a supah special gent in your life who you’ve been meaning to tell something quite special” I thought, “ABORT MISSION ANNE-A-LIKE, ABORT!!” Then the make-over happens and it’s, “whaaat d’ ya think he’s going to say when he sees ya’ t’night?” and I’m all, “TAKE THOSE EXPENSIVE TWEEZERS AND RUN GIRL!” And when the moment finally came for the She’s All That reveal and our de-frizzed jane entered in heels-she-couldn’t-walk-in to stand before her maybe-man while Keira-Knightly-with-a-rack stood in the corner giggling, “she’s doing it! She’s about to bloody do it!” to the camera man slash criminal I thought, “OHMYGOD ISTHISREALLYHAPPENING?! ONTELEVISION?! RIGHTNOW!! MYGODMAKEITSTOP!! OOOHHH MAKE IT STOP!! THISISN’TRIGHT,THISISN’TFAIR, SHE’S JUST A BAAABY!!!
Except I have a problem with thinking things silently to myself…
Listen, do I think that if you’re that girl you should tell that guy how you feel? Yes, in theory. I recommend e-mails and or not-national-television, but to each her own. Do I want to tune in to watch someone do that week after week? No. Owing to a bizarre set of nerves rooted in, you-guessed-it, some delightful person history, I’d prefer a man holding a surgeon to gun-point and demanding she make the first cut.
But will I watch this show? Hell yes. Fetal position with one hand over my eyes and the other grasping my cup o’ vodka as I scream at that British bitch and her evil team of potential life-ruiners.
Plain Jane premieres sometime this summer. I’ll keep you posted.
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I’m with you. This show just sounds like watching insecure girls get mocked and humiliated on national tv. Just give them the makeover and the confidence, don’t make then talk to the boy. That’s just cruel and unusual punishment.
I totally agree with you and the first comment. I was cringing reading that whole post. (and omg I was shaking and losing it last night during Grey’s too!) This show sounds like it would make me too uncomfortable to watch.,…even covering my eyes and peeking out…
This show is an exceptionally painful remake of MTV’s “Made” and She’s All That, and I’m terrified that I’ll be sucked into it, and I don’t think a cup of vodka will keep me from cringing and whimpering
I came across your blog on Lemon Drop and absolutely love it! I can completely relate to a lot of your stories and opinions, and have a good laugh at the same time. Thanks!
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