I Looked Out this Morning and the Sun Was Gone, Turned On Some Music to Start My Butt

Couple more reality show notes to start things off. The season premieres of most of the really intriguing scripted programs are this week or next, so my exclusive focus on reality is only temporary. I have Six Feet Under and The 4400 ready to go whenever Katie isn't watching with me, not to mention The Insider, which premieres Wednesday. Two quick shows that deserve TV takes:

1) The Scholar: Wal-Mart's reality spectacular about smart high school kids competing for a college scholarship. While I totally wish they had this deal when I was going to college (not that I really qualify, but still) this show has a long way to go if it is going to fail at sucking assballs. The kids are somewhat interesting, at least 2-3 potential plotlines that are fun, not to mention at least 4 good characters. Not only does ABC just seem to suck completely at reality but the filming is very badly done and there are some very Wal-Mart touches, it just has the feel of a for-kids-by-kids version of Big Brother or something. I will give it at least one more week.

2) Hit Me Baby One More Time has the makings of the reality hit of the summer. It truly succeeds in all the places that Dancing With the Stars, for instance, fails. The basic idea is a bunch of blast from the past bands play their big hits and some contemporary cover tunes. The audience votes, all America's Funniest Home Videos style, and somebody gets some money for a charity and hopefully a boost in old record sales and better bookings than the Oberlin, Colorado Apple Harvest Festival. I recorded my observations from the premiere episode in order, hopefully to give you both a stream of consciousness impression as to my mental status as well as to get you the feel of this program:

Here we are sitting down to watch the premiere episode of Hit Me Baby One More Time. First I press list, then play. Why is this show hosted by a big British wad. He has a haircut like Rob Thomas, sounds like Noel Gallagher after a gallon of whiskey, and is generally a complete knob.

Loverboy takes the stage first: they are really old. The dudes from Loverboy apparently do 100 shows a year, thats means approximately 100*Whoa whoa whoa, the dude from Flock of Seagulls is wearing a hat. Here's a list of analogies that don't quite capture how ridiculous it is that the dude from Flock of Seagulls, who, despite the success of "I Ran," is only famous because of his hair, re-appears on national TV wearing a hat. Its like:

--Gallagher smashing grapes
--Gene Simmons singing through his teeth
--Xtina wearing a burka
--Eminem in blackface
--the Smurfs wearing khakis
--Ron Jeremy in a Disney movie
--Keri Russell shaving her head
--Rockappella unplugged
--Cuba Gooding Jr. looking directly at the money
--Gwen Stefani as a hollaback girl

Regardless, its outlandish. Arrested Development completely trounced everyone this evening. I mean serious pwnzing. Not only is Tenessee probably the best of the original songs being performed (maybe "I Think We're Alone Now" can take a run) but their cover is the only one which is in any way interesting. Alright, who knocked up Tiffany? Seriously, I think the act of putting a serious boning to Tiffany requires the mind of a pedophile, even if she was in Playboy and, to paraphrase the House of Champions (TM) was blessed by the breast fairy. Regardless, she appears to be knocked up. I'm psyched for next week, which features Vanilla Ice among others. Without the OC or Survivor you should have time to check it out Thursday night.

As an update from last time, I should note that my newfound root beer fanboyism is getting pounded by at least two people online. Not that they are normal people by the way, specifically they are this guy and Winner McTavish over here. I mean, I dig on the root beer, but I don't know if I can match up to these homies, so I think I will just stick to casual enjoyment. I loves me my food and my drink but I have never really had the devotion to try that many of anything. I mean, I have tried prolly 20 or so different wing joints in this town, and I think I have a pretty good view of the scene, but I'm no 259 root beer cat. Maybe I could have disproven myself cheesesteak style, but not for now.

I am preparing an epic saga detailing our trip to Toronto this weekend. It was brief but exciting and I plan on getting some photojournalism up in the heezy. Regardless, the multitude of stories would be best not seperated, so you must have patience. Take a lesson from Hippo, who had to wait almost 10 minutes for her dinner while I swiffered the floor this evening. Instead of meowing and meowing and meowing and trying to scratch me or something, she lay in wait until I had sat down, then she tried to steal my quiche. She failed, but the lesson is still well taken.

Peace,

MB-K