YAY: The Good Wife

I HAVE NO WORDS.

Well, that's an all out lie, but still.



As I was saying, the subject line is a lie. I most certainly do have words, but after reading this fantastic review this morning, I'm mincing mine. Side note? I love any article that uses the word "fussy." It's one of my favorites.

It's not like anyone who doesn't live under a rock didn't know this was coming, given that CBS spoiled it in the episode's promo, but hoo boy was it even better than I anticipated. It was gorgeously shot, the elevator doors didn't look hokey like they did in the promo, and I actually didn't hate the song. I don't know if it was the particular section of the Mika song that they used in the promo, but it became a running thing for me to scream "I HATE THAT SONG" whenever it came on. After hearing practically the whole song last night, I can't get it out of my head today. Chalk it up to "comprehensiveness."

I think that Alan Sepinwall (one of my favorite critics!) is correct in his awesomely-titled review when he says this whole affair (bah dum CHING!) will make things "messier" for Alicia next year. Bring it on. I love messiness and irrationality on television. I don't know about you, but I find myself being completely irrational or stupid on a somewhat regular basis. A logical 32-year-old woman with a college degree wouldn't pay a bill out of the wrong bank account, right? Right?! Irrationality, stupidity, bad decision-ness... It doesn't change the nature of a character -- it just makes said character more realistic.

One of my favorite television scenes of all time is from the third season premiere of Alias. A rational Sydney Bristow would have said, "Hey, I've been presumed dead for two years. Of course my boyfriend would have moved on and married someone." But a realistic Sydney Bristow is saying, "Hey. I've just lost two years of my life and my dad is in jail and my best friend was killed and cloned and my man hooked up with some new chippy, like, six months after I disappeared and you know what? I AM PISSED. And while I really just want to go all Rambaldi on your ass, I'm just going to tear you a new one with my words of fi-yah."

So yes. Back to Alicia. A rational Alicia would have said, "You know what? I've had a good day and, yes, I have feelings for this admittedly attractive guy that I work with and had whatever-we-had-at-Georgetown with, but the smart thing to do would be to call a cab and start divorce proceedings and then pursue something later." But no. Realistic Alicia was all, "Oooo. Tequila is awesome and spicy and this is a hot, hot man and my shipper brother is home with the kids and will totes cover for me and I am so, so tired of dealing with my soon-to-be-ex-mother-in-law, my treasonous-best-friend-don't-you-dare-try-to-defend-her, and my manwhore of a soon-to-be-ex-husband and Will just dropped nearly $8,000 and oh just shut up, Alicia, and cue. the. flippin'. Aerosmith." And for that, she deserves a slow clap with Explosions in the Sky music in the background. Clear minds, full shot glasses, can't lose.

But this is indeed going to get messy when it gets out and you know it will. Whether it's from lobby or elevator cameras or Mr. Smiley-Faced-Oatmeal-Piano-Man, it will get out. Some thoughts: Grace, who seems to have issue with her mother even drinking wine, is going to have something to say about adultery. Jackie is going to keep wearing her headbands and go all, well, Jackie on her and probably call her a hussy. Peter's gonna be a stoic d-bag about it and do something devious. Cary's going to channel his inner Randy Travis and be all, "I TOLD YOU SO, BITCHES." And David Lee. Her divorce lawyer. From Lockhart Gardner. I know he says his office is a monastery, but what happens when he finds out she's sleeping with their boss? Mmmhmm. Only Owen's going to be jumping up and down like Kelly Kapoor in Victoria's Secret. And, well, Will's probably doing the Dr.-Benton-victory-air-punch thing.

It's going to be so messy. Everyone's going to be so deliciously judgy until Alicia punches them all in the throat. And it's going to be awesome.

Is it fall yet?

P.S. I'd like to thank my fabulous roommates for getting me to watch this show. It's one of my new favorites. Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

P.P.S. Never believe me when I say I'm going to mince my words.

'The Good Wife' currently airs on Tuesday nights at 10 p.m. EST/9 p.m. CST on CBS. New episodes, however, return on Sunday nights at 9 p.m. EST/8 p.m. CST. Season One is currently available on DVD and Season Two is due out September 13. Your butt best be on the sofa when the third season premieres on September 25.

MEH: Recession Traffic

It’s only because of my good Baptist guilt that this is not a YAY. Well, that and the fact that I’m just too darn yay-ish lately and I wanted to mix it up. (If I’m honest, that’s probably more of it than the guilt thing, but whatever.)

It’s a universally-held truth that traffic in Los Angeles is the devil. People here like their cars and they like to drive and show them off. Unless one is traveling between downtown and the Valley, public transit options suck. And there are, like, three and a half million people living here. That adds up to a lot of cars on the road.

One of these cars is my beloved Marcie. I live just west of downtown in Silver Lake. I work in Century City. According to the almighty Google Maps, it’s approximately 9.4 miles from my house to my office building, which in normal times takes between 45 minute and one hour.

Not anymore.

My average commute takes less than half an hour. That’s taking Beverly. That’s taking Sixth Street. That’s taking Olympic. And that’s taking the westbound 10, which very rarely backs up until La Brea now. (Before, you could count on jamming starting around Western and not clearing up until right around National and Overland.) I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy not having to leave my house until 9 a.m. in the morning. I’m able to make myself breakfast, check my e-mail, and take my time trying to prettify myself.

But what is not cool about this abbreviated commute time is the reason. Recession is the reason for this season – and recession ain’t cool, people. I know the reason I’m able to get to work quickly is because, like, ten percent of Los Angeles’ workforce is without a job. Luckily, I feel pretty secure in my job (knock on Formica or whatever my desk is made out of), so I don’t think I’m going to be part of that population any time soon. But the possibility scares the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of me.

Losing my job means a very good chance that I have to move back to Texas. Texas knows I love it. My people in Texas know I love them. But I do not want to go back. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to leave my roomies and the Chinese take-out in those cute little white containers that you see on TV and homemade Stanley Cups and general dorkiness/nerdiness/geekiness. I’m not ready to leave my friends and pub trivia and the giant falafel mural in Echo Park. I’m not ready to give up the dream. I want to be able to stay here to feel like I’m beating my head against a brick wall as I submit resume after resume to shows. I want to go to little non-Starbucks coffee shops under the guise of writing just to feel cool and city chic and all that. I love my family so much it hurts, but I am not jumping up and down at the prospect of becoming our own little version of The Waltons.

Wow. I could almost make this one a NAY. Except for the fact that I love sleep and that extra fifteen minutes I’m now getting makes me a far less cranky person than I would be otherwise. And less crankiness is always a YAY. According to the Mythagorean Theorem, (NAY+ YAY) ÷ 2 = MEH.

In short, y’all stay safe and employed out there. I’ll be thinking of you as I’m gliding along to work in the morning.

YAY: "CHUCK"

So here’s the deal.

I’m turning 30 in approximately 22 days. For the past two months, my parents have been after me to tell them what I want for this very special birthday. I mean, there are things that I actually want – like the Hannah handbag from Fossil and an iPhone and one of Landry Clark’s awesome “Keep Austin Weird” shirts – but the things I want most, they have absolutely no control over... A million dollars. A decent, good-looking man. A flourishing career. A pony. And a Chuck renewal.

One of my most embarrassing memories of my childhood is bursting into tears one Christmas when my grandparents got me a fake make-up kit. I had wanted real makeup because I was a big girl. (And clearly, all the other eight-year-olds at my elementary school were wearing it.) Instead, I got a plastic applicator with plastic eye shadow and I went to a corner where I thought they couldn’t find me and I cried. Eventually they did find me and my grandparents felt horrible about it, which ended up making me feel horrible about it for the next twenty years. Thinking back on it, (a) the fake-up kit was really kind of cute and (b) I am mortified at how ungrateful I seemed, but that plastic eye shadow broke my heart. I like to think that being of a certain age I am above such histrionics. But if I don’t get that Chuck renewal, all bets are off.

(Unfortunately, save for a few friends who work at the National Broadcasting Company, I don’t think anyone there gives a rat’s behind that their "Infronts" fall just five days after my golden birthday. But it’s worth a shot, yes?)

You guys, I am in complete love with this show. I love, like, everything about it. I literally look forward to Mondays because of it and that’s not an exaggeration. I get free lunch in our departmental staff meetings, I go to pub trivia with Allison and Meredith, and then I go home and watch Chuck. When I leave for work on Monday mornings, I actually lay my pajamas and my fuzzy pastel rainbow socks out so that I can quickly change my clothes before what Meredith and I affectionately refer to as “Chuckles time.” Keep in mind that said Chuckles time takes place at approximately 12 midnight P.S.T., given that my roommates and I participate in the afore-mentioned pub trivia. Basically, coming home from trivia is like getting up on Christmas morning when I was a kid – except it’s not a My Little Pony or Yamaha keyboard or a Sony Walkman (or plastic make-up, for that matter) under the tree. It’s approximately 43 minutes of pure, unadulterated television fun.

It should come as no surprise that I like the show. Among the ranks of my favorite television shows (past and present) are Alias and The Office (U.S.). It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I might be interested in a hybrid of the two. But it didn’t start off that way. When the show premiered in 2007, I recall seeing bus ads and rolling my eyes. I had absolutely no interest in getting involved with another spy show and, really, how dare they even try to top the awesomeness that was Alias?? Then something happened, and by “something” I mean the 2008 Summer Olympics. Or, more specifically, Michael Phelps. Or, if you want to get even more specific, Michael Phelps’ body. (Shut up.) But during the Olympics, NBC was running some absolutely adorable ads for the show. I managed to hunt down my two favorites on YouTube.

To make the long story short, those ads led me to the Emmy screeners at work, which led me to Hulu, which led to me Netflixing the DVDs, which led to me buying the DVDs, which led to me being absolutely hooked by the time “Chuck vs. The First Date” aired last September, which led to me being a huge dork about the show, which led to me breaking my normal “television professional” persona to blog about it today.

So here I am in 2009, begging my one blog follower (I’m going to just call you Mel), to give the show a try. If I had that million dollars, I’d totally buy the DVDs for you and send you a full season subscription on iTunes, but I don’t. So, you’ll just have to trust me when I outline a few reasons why you should watch (in no particular order):

Chuck. And Sarah and Casey and Ellie and Awesome and…: One of the things I love more about television than film is that viewers get a longer period of time to get to know a character. Yes, Chuck is funny and yes, it’s a spy show, but my favorite parts are the smaller character moments. Season two has been amazing in that respect – hearing Chuck talk about why the often insufferable Morgan is his best friend, finding out just a little more about Sarah’s past in high school and with her father, and, in this most recent episode, watching Chuck learn the truth about his own dad. I’d elaborate on it, but I don’t want to spoil you because it’s a rather big plot point. I could go on and on about the characters – about how awesome Captain Awesome (aka Devon) is, or how hilarious Casey is with his Reagan worship, and how creepily endearing Jeff and Lester can be at times. I’m going to spare you, though.

Zachary Levi. And Yvonne Strahovski and Adam Baldwin and Sarah Lancaster and Ryan McPartlin and…: When I first started watching this show, the only person I knew by name was Sarah Lancaster. I really liked Sarah on What About Brian? (remember that show?) on ABC. Also, I worked as background on Dr. Vegas for a little bit, so I remember her from that, though the dark hair threw me off at first. But the rest of them? Nary a clue, but what a nice surprise. And again, it’s those character moments that allow the cast to really shine – Ellie (Sarah Lancaster) and Chuck (Zac Levi) dealing with the reappearance of their father, Casey (Adam Baldwin) going to bat for Chuck in the season opener, Sarah (Yvonne Strahovski) reacting to her father disappearing from her life once again… And have I mentioned the guest appearances? Scott Bakula, Bruce Boxleitner, Morgan Fairchild, Chevy Chase, John Laroquette, and the list goes on.

Cake. And Frightened Rabbit and Bon Iver and Blitzen Trapper and Pop Levi and…: Alexandra Patsevas is a musical genius. Much like with the cast, I had never heard of more than half of the bands whose music appears on Chuck. You can bet I know of them now and that is thanks to the incredibly effective use of songs. There’s even a Live Journal community dedicated to the music used on the show! Need video evidence of the awesomeness? Frightened Rabbit’s “The Twist,” which I could not stop listening to the week after this aired. Other favorites include the use of Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love” and “Blood Bank,” as well as “Keep Yourself Warm” (also by Frightened Rabbit), despite what was, ahem, going on in that scene.

That’s only three reasons to watch Chuck, but there are so many more. The main thing I want you to take away from this is that it’s a good show. It’s a really, really ridiculously good show. It’s funny and it’s heartfelt and it's romantic and, more recently, it’s friggin' intense.

So please check it out, especially if you’re a Nielsen viewer. If you don’t check it out and Nielsen calls, please lie through your teeth. If you could also tell them that you’re loaded and that you’re between the ages of 18 and 49, that would be awesome, too.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shut up now and return to my normal television professional persona.

Right after I go watch some more clips on YouTube…

"Chuck" airs on NBC on Monday nights at 8 p.m. EST/7 p.m. CST. Most of the second season is available for free viewing on Hulu. The first season is available for rent or purchase on DVD and the entire second season (thus far) is available for purchase on iTunes. Go forth and view.

ETA: Ms. 'Thleen has brought it to my attention that the first season is available for viewing on TheWb.com. While you're there, check out "Rockville, CA." It...rocks.

P.S. I have to give major props to Give Me My Remote for making it Chuck Week at their awesome site. Thanks, y'all!

YAY: The "Twilight" Series

The day before most of my department departed for a holiday vacation -- a much-deserved holiday vacation, I might add -- our SVP sat all of us down individually for a talk. One of my "instructions" for over the break was to not read anything for work. I would venture to say that the bulk of my extra-curricular reading these days is, well, curricular. I'm not saying that none of it is good or that I don't enjoy it, but sometimes it's nice to read something just for me.

Enter my sister and her vampire love. Katy has been reading books about vampires since we were children. In fact, I would venture to say that when she wasn't secretly raiding my mom's closet and stealing her Harlequin novels, she was reading books about vampires. She and I have very different tastes. For instance, just today, we went into Waldenbooks, where I was hoping to look at the new Wally Lamb book. On the shelf as we entered was a book simply titled "DISEASE." I had scarcely seen it before I heard "OOOOOO!" and Katy had snatched it up to flip through and point out the sad picture of the "pony" suffering from "stallion sickness."

So, needless to say, when she first recommended that I pick up Stephenie Meyer's "Twilight," I rolled my eyes. It was fun to laugh at all of the t-shirts in the window at Hot Topic and read my friends' comments on the insanity of the online fandom experience. One afternoon, though, I was invited by a new friend to see the movie with her and I went. I didn't think it was the greatest thing ever committed to celluloid, but it intrigued me enough to borrow my sister's copy of the book. And purchase the soundtrack. And throw a more-than-cursory glance at that Hot Topic window.

That book, along with its three door-stop-sized sequels, provided me my literary amusement for Christmas 2008. I had read mixed reviews of "Breaking Dawn," which I always catch myself referring to as "Breaking Bad," which brings to mind billboards featuring Brian Cranston standing in front of a trailer in his drawers. And that is not an image I want brought to mind. (No offense, BriCran!) 

I was mildly spoiled for what happened in the final book, given that it was pretty hard to avoid on Live Journal. Despite that, I rather enjoyed the series. My main problem with the first two books was this all-encompassing love that Bella seemed to have for Edward (and vice versa). The epic, catatonia and cliff-jumping-worthy love that she could not live without made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Then I reminded myself that they are teenagers and that I am a bitter old shrew who would let her hair down like Rapunzel if she didn't have split ends and there weren't bars on her bedroom window. After that, I decided just to go with it.

After that decision was made, I was left with only one real problem with the books, particularly the last two. There was so. much. lead-up to the big battles in each of the books. Chapters and chapters of lead-up. When I mentioned the issue to my sister, she finished my sentence for me, assuming that I meant that the conclusions were anti-climactic. That's not really what I meant... It's just that when the characters started talking about the potential consequences of each of the battles, it took forever for said battle to happen. Now, that's probably going to be helpful in the adaptations (which I will be seeing on opening night, okay?), but that was honestly the only thing that bugged me in the entire series.

Okay, scratch that, it took me a relatively long time to deal with Jacob IMPRINTING on Renesmee. I mean, when Edward called him "son," I rolled my eyes so far back into my head that I'm surprised they didn't get stuck. The whole thing just started out squicky, but once I just -- surprise, surprise -- went with it, and accepted that he wasn't imprinting on her in that way (yet), I was able to deal. But seriously. How did Edward not rip Jacob's throat out?! I know, I know... Because Bella never would have forgiven him and the other wolves would have probably cut a bitch.

Aside from that, the only really lingering thoughts I had were: "I still don't understand how a non-living being can knock someone up," and "You don't sleep when you're a vampire? NO THANK YOU." Oh, and thanks to an, um, anatomical question that my cousin brought up at Christmas dinner, I was thinking about the logistics of that, too. Thank you ever so much for that, Lacey.

But back to Edward ripping Jacob's throat out... I had no problem "rooting" for Edward. Edward was an old soul. According to the strange psychic lady outside Johnny Rocket's at Hollywood and Highland, I am an old soul, so I guess I just relate better to him or something. Jacob was sweet and all, but his persistence hit a lot too close to home for me and I just wanted him to shut up and move on. Until the imprinting incident, I thought he was having a little puppy love with Leah, which I found particularly clever for one reason... A blind man in Dallas could see that there was something going on with Charlie and Sue Clearwater (Leah's mom). Jacob would have been Charlie's son-in-law after all! (And Charlie would have had Harry Clearwater's famous fish fry recipe!) But NO. Now Jacob's going to be his grandson-in-law.

(And I'm sorry, despite what I said a few paragraphs back, that's still a little EW.)

One of the complaints that I often hear about "Breaking Dawn" is that everyone gets what they want in the end. Well, what did people expect? In the entire series, I think the only "good" person who died was Irina. And while that one was sad, she was the dillweedess who narced out Renesmee. Bella broke her leg in the first one, but James was killed. Edward's suicide was thwarted and the Cullens were permitted to leave Volterra unharmed (save for having to promise to vampirize Bella) in "New Moon." No good guys perished in the battle to take down Victoria and her band of crazy baby vamps in "Eclipse." So, I don't know, I didn't really find it that shocking that the Cullens all ended up okay at the conclusion of "Breaking Dawn." And frankly, I'd grown to love the characters (especially the Cullens) so much that I didn't want to see a "Deathly Hallows"-esque massacre. Realistic? No. But it's a book about vampires and their werewolf frienemies/future son-in-laws and the girl who lurved them both. I don't think realism necessarily applies to the supernatural.

It's a fun series, guys and gals. I'm anxious to see what Chris Weitz is able to do with New Moon. Actually seeing that scene where the Cullens and Bella are leaving the Volturi as the people are being herded in will probably haunt me for days.

Now that I've finished all of the books, I find myself actually lingering in front of the Hot Topic windows when I pass. Today, the headless mannequin was outfitted in a red tutu with a Team Jacob shirt. I looked at my sister and said, "SERIOUSLY?"

And then we rolled our eyes and laughed.

"Twilight," "New Moon," "Eclipse," and "Breaking Dawn" were all written by Stephenie Meyer and are available on Amazon.com or at your favorite book retailer. The film version of "Twilight" is probably playing at a cinema near you and will be until it falls out of the top ten or comes out on DVD -- whichever comes first.

YAY: Cake.

And not the band Cake, either. Though I have to admit that "No Phone" still has remarkable "earworm" potential.

ODE TO CAKE
By Amanda Mason

Ode to cake,
The days you make,
Better with carbs,
Negating the barbs

You cancel out my walk,
With sprinkles you talk,
You say, "Life is okay,"
And my diet you sway

But I do not care,
For you're better than flair,
With frosting that smiles,
And chocolate for miles

Birthdays are cool,
For them I'm a fool,
Cause for goodness sake,
THERE WILL ALWAYS BE CAKE!!

NAY: Expense Reports Involving Foreign Transactions

Okay, let's be honest here. (And by "let's," I mean me.) This is kind of a lame NAY. The truth is that (a) I wanted to do a "nay," and (b) I wanted that nay to be "Hillary Clinton's Campaign" since her supporters so pissed me off at the DNC thing on Saturday. But, then I heard that she might concede the nomination tonight, so I thought that was an utterly unclassy thing to do. And I am nothing if not classy. (Shut up, Allison.)

So, here I was without my beloved "nay." What's a bored girl with no willpower to work to do? Look around her desk for inspiration! I realized that I need to do expense reports for my bosses and that some of these involved set visits to Canada ("Boston, California"), where film incentives are high and french fries suck, if a recent e-mail from my boss is to be believed. One would think that with all of the French Canadians, the fries would be off the hizzle. But no. Then again, he's currently in Toronto, not Montreal.

Expense reports involving foreign transactions suck for a myriad of reasons. First, the system my company uses requires the user to convert everything, which means entering the exchange rate. This is a problem because the exchange rate changes every day. (This quote, of course, makes me think of Gabby Hoffman's line from Sleepless in Seattle regarding the price of airfare to New York. "Nobody knows! It changes practically every day!") Then, when I look up the exchange rate for a particular date on the Internet, it never matches up with the transaction amount shown on the credit card statement, forcing me to do convoluted mathematics to determine the correct exchange rate.

The second major problem with these things is that one has to wait on the credit card statement to arrive before processing said foreign expenses. That can lead to a huge delay in reimbursement for airfare, hotel, and overpriced lackluster french fries in the airport. Plus, they add their own little foreign transaction fee, which must be accounted for on the expense report. All in all, just one of these little puppies can take up two hours of my day. That's two hours I could be spending on status reports, answering phones, making sure that every person one of my bosses has ever met with, had lunch with, or spoken to on the phone is in his Outlook Contacts, and periodically checking the Television Without Pity message boards for any updates on the upcoming X-Files movie. (Did I just type that out loud?)

Again, I recognize that this is a lame nay. I promise to exercise more discretion in choosing my topics of bitchiness in the future. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a Xerox machine and a dozen restaurant receipts. Oh goodie for me.

YAY: The Cellar Restaurant

Truthfully, I almost started this blog off with a "nay." It's probably the cloudy weather just making me cranky, but I couldn't think of anything that I wanted to speak highly of. But
then K reminded me that we're going to lunch at The Cellar with A and M, and I realized I had my YAY.

The first time I heard about The Cellar, I don't know what I thought it was. I knew it was a bar. I knew people from my office in Century City went over there after work on occasion. But I've been there so many times in the past year that I don't remember my initial impression. Did I think it was The Standard? Or The W? Or, even worse, Skybar? (Yes, I am still bitter about being denied entrance three summers ago.) What I do remember, though, is being surprised to find that it was a cozy little hole-in-the wall joint in the high-rise district that I call my work 'hood. They have a patio area with plenty of seating and heat lamps, which is perfect for when you or your companions want to light up. The indoor seating area has a cozy, British pub-style atmosphere, complete with wing-back chairs and old books lining the shelves on the walls. By night, The Cellar has drink specials, which you can enjoy with yummy tortilla chips and runny salsa. By day, replace "drink" with "lunch" and "tortilla chips" with "bread." (This reminds me of another "YAY" I can do on another day: CARBS.)

I guess you could say that The Cellar is my office's own version of Cheers. Sometimes we want to go where everybody knows our names -- and our drink orders. Waitress Extraordinaire Cristina has a mind like a steel trap. Whenever our group shows up, she walks back into the bar area and returns with our drinks -- without ever having to ask what we're having! She. Just. Knows. She knows what happens when I drink tequila and that once I've had one of my drinks (vanilla vodka and Diet Coke), it's time to switch to straight Diet Coke. She knows that K and C will have "the bucket" (of Coors Light). And that Ka likes rum and Diet Coke with a cherry in it. This woman is like a regular Raymond Babbit without the Asperger's. Or the Y chromosome.

Don't take my word for it... Where else can you hear such comments?

• "I don't know what they do to this tuna, but it's the best tuna melt of my life." - M

• "Anyone who lives with (Mandy) has to be easy!" - Cristina

• "May I have a Diet Coke? And a side of your babies?" - K

In summary, if you are one of the minions living in or near Century City, definitely check this place out. It kicks the ass of X-Bar or Pink Taco (yes, that is what it's called). Don't tell them Mandy sent you - they'll cut you off before you even start drinking.

The Cellar is located at 1880 Century Park East in Los Angeles (90067). Phone: (310) 277-1584.