OMG I love TV

Seen on an MSN slide: "House: A woman who believes a cat has predicted her death desperately seeks House's help."

Weekend.

Lost on Friday with Nate and Melissa. The show has recaptured some of its early quality, with the cabin, the black smoke, and a tightening-up of plot lines. Things are muddled with time changes and mysterious characters, and there are still too many plotlines to cover everything in any one episode, but at least I can recall week-to-week what's going on.

Saturday -- Gym, Costco, long walk with Buster to campus (was as big a fan of the Quad as any sun-bathing sophomore), dinner, The Wire. The first season was striking, but in hindsight a good reiteration of familiar social dynamics. The second is more complex, more original, more gritty. It's really exciting and unsettling to see blue collar culture and organized crime contrasted with inner-city drug trade. A group of primarily white cops chasing primarily black dealers does not make one think in the same was as this mix of Greeks, eastern europeans, and african americans. And one irish american played by a brit, or maybe Australian. I forget.

Today, crepes and thick-creamed coffee at the Rusty Pelican. Along with breakfast cocktails (mimosas), they're pushing the concept of breakfast appetizers -- who needs a cinnamon roll while they wait for french toast?

Then, what I secretly want to do 90% of the time (when not baking cookies): Nordstrom Rack. I was in an unparalleled mood for trying on out-of-season designer clothing, and felt incomparably lucky to wander in just after 10 am and see that the store was unusually neat an tidy. This is what retail looks like before the shoppers arrive. I dove in and started disheveling things.

I small rack of Missoni scarves drew me over at least twice, but though I'm sure it would have been a decent investment, I couldn't part with $50+ for a square of silk. Shoes were iffy -- many so-so summer styles, but instead I left with my first pair of Chuck Taylor's. (A girl at work recently bought her first pair, too, and Friday we shared ambivalence at a style so over-done in high school, and yet so inevitable.)

And then, after standing in the slow slow lines once, I saw one lonely pair of very attractive Marc Jacobs' sunglasses on a sad rack of very unattractive styles (who's really shocked that that weird plastic unibrow style didn't sell well?). Tried on and looked very exciting, and was in line as soon as I saw the price was half normal Rack discount. Unfortunately got the same register girl the second time around -- she didn't seem so surprised to see me again, though.

Much traipsing around downtown, and found a good denim skirt at Urban. Not cheap. But it felt very right when I tried it on.

Project Runway

Another season is over. The final runway shows seem less climactic each time, and I'm less smitten with the designers and their designs.

Rami's collection: Beautiful. Mature. Love the dress with the skirt woven into the bodice. Not sure about his colors, but I could see wearing some things here.

Most of the designers on the show come up with some generic narrative, but he introduces this collection saying it celebrates women, and I can actually see that. I want him to win. But this is TV, and Christian is obviously everyone's favorite.

When I look over the collections now, I actually am more torn between Christian and Rami -- on this 15" monitor instead of the 60" TV, the nice details of Rami's are lost, and the excess of Christian's is subdued, to his benefit.

Jillian's collection: I didn’t really like Jillian as a TV personality, but I still expected something better than this. It looks very amateur. What’s attractive is not original, what’s original is not attractive. Disjointed. She clearly will not win. I would much rather have seen Chris here.

Christian's collection: Christian and his designs make me think of Austin Scarlett, the super-flamboyant designer I loved the first time around, and who I thought got kicked off too soon. So why don't I like Christian the most now?

Maybe too fierce? Would be interesting to see the martketable version – I’m not sure if the “wow” here is because it’s all bigger than everyone else's work, or because it’s actually interesting.

The beige and brown ruffle/tube dress looks like a pastry.

In the end, I think he pulls this all off as a runway show – and pulling off something almost laughable is impressive – but I’m not sure it translates into something I'd like to wear.

political narrative

I'm watching the 60 Minutes interviews with Clinton and Obama, and while they're longer and more detailed than most Today Show and Daily Show blurbs, they still play out the same: He laughs politely at the presumptuous questions, a voice-over narrates his whisper-in-Springfield-to-a-movement campaign; She respectfully defends her experience and abilities against the sudden and increasing threat of new charisma and Hope, until finally a familiar defensiveness is established and it seems the reporter has become her opponent. Obama's interview is a conversation, while her's verges on interrogation.

And while Obama's interview focuses on his campaign, Clinton's focuses on ... his campaign.

Is it media bias, or is Clinton so thoroughly uncharming that she's incapable of carrying her own narrative? Does the president need a narrative, or is this personal fairytale we look for in Obama disconnected from the ability to be a strong leader? The only way I can account for G W Bush's appeal is his comfortably low-brow persona. Disregarding platform, is electing Obama on charisma, mixed-race heritage, and a big smile comparably ignorant to electing Bush based on down-to-earthiness, political heritage, and an easy laugh?

But it degrades Obama's true potential and ability to reduce him to a megawatt smile and hope, etc. In an era when everyone, everyone, is rallying for change, maybe the point is not to elect someone with the most popular opinions or the most skill, but a competent someone who is in essence clearly distinct from our last 20 years of Bushes and Clintons. Her sameness goes beyond her last name, and her gender is not enough to make her truly different.

Weekend: Part 2 -

Saturday evening, Brouwer's was crowded, so we met Nate + Melissa on the sidewalk and decided on Ballroom, across the street. We should have ran when clearly the music was loud for conversation, the plastic cups they brought with a pitcher were shipped and wet, and the menu offered only Costco frozen fried food.

Alas, we stayed. We stayed through the first pitcher, we stayed when the tube tops and sequins paraded through, and we stayed when the music became even louder remixes that made bad songs worse. Our waitress was impossible to find, and our second pitcher was impossible to finish. We left.

Sunday, I woke up late, organized my makeup drawer, and moved a laundry basket around the living room without actually folding the clothes. We went to breakfast at the Rusty Pelican around 2 -- strawberry and yogurt crepes, sans whipped creme and "tropical" sauce, were delicious, though the waiter was overly goofy and a grown woman made a face at Brian over the top of the booth.

Last time we went, we sat in the same booth, Brian talked about jobs, and I was a little distressed about his search. It's been about a month, and suddenly he's starting at Microsoft in less than a week. Excitement! Fanciness!! Crepes!

U Village, home, then more tastiness at McCormick and Schmick's. I really wish it was either not a big chain or at least had a more palatable name -- I've loved it both times we've been, but something just doesn't feel perfect to me. Fortunately the food (except our unfortunate mass of lumpy calamari last time) pretty much is.

Then, da da da dum! Lost!!! We've waited so long! So much stress! Could it reclaim it's creepy sci-fi pseudo-philosophical place in our hearts after so much time, and with only seven episodes for a season? It was pretty excellent, the hour-long reminder episode was helpful, and I almost threw the popcorn bowl at Buster in more than one scary moment.

Love Miss America Reality Check. Espech when they call Miss Washington "the most popular girl here." Woot! Wapato! If only she was a UW alum, I could be really excited.

Wait, wait, this just in from the Colbert Report!! Will Smith a Scientologist? Oh, nope, apparently he just studied it. And then his press agent told him to get out of the cult and back into popularity. The real question is, why did he wear this suit out before tailoring? I can hem those for you, Will.

It was a great weekend for big screens. The Critic's Choice Awards, watched at the gym, were made more appealing from the tentativeness of the Oscar's, and Don Cheadle accepting the innaugeral Joel Siegel award for actors who are also good people. I thought it strange that he accepted an award for using his celebrity to publicize the crisis in Darfur, but didn't use his time at the mic to mention the issue.

Saturday night plans for Juno became plans for a drink and Atonement with Nate + Melissa. Thanks to the exceptional film, I think I've come to terms with Keira Knightly as a real actress (though not a real human; why can't she stop posing her face?).

Beautiful costumes, music, people. cinematography. Stylistically, it seemed to reference multiple Very interesting direction andgenres depending on the purpose of the scene, sometimes Casablanca-classic (McAvoy running after face-posing Knightly as she rides away on a tram), sometimes almost surreal (blood-red-curtained hospital room at night, with whispered conversation about croissants while the nurse re-wraps bandages over a soldier's throbbing brain). Overall, very contemporary, but not overwhelmingly so -- rather than feeling like a 2007 period piece, it is a fairly timeless film set (primarily) in the past.

Keira Knightly's Cecilia Tallis is too flat to form an opinion of, though it doesn't turn me off -- she's mostly forgettable, but not offensive; Briony Tallis is selfishly bitter and misguided, I can'tlike her; and James McAvoy is so wonderful that I did love his Robbie Turner until realizing the character is far too weak a man for me to be comfortable esteeming as a romantic hero. Despite this, I must have felt empathy for them, because I still loved the film. Comparatively, Sweeney Todd's line-up are all just bad people, for whom I felt nothing, and I don't particularly want to see the film ever again. In conclusion: quality film with characters I am ambivalent about is better than quality film with dislikable characters and lots of fake blood.

Then, Sunday, the final big screen of the weekend. Dissatisfied with 46" and imperfect black levels, Brian spent an unspeakable amount (think fabulous Tiffany ring [what?! who put that link there? Can't have been me.]) on a new TV far too large for any other apartment we will move into. We were halfway through constructing the Ikea throne when the King of TVs was delivered. Many cords, much recycling, and some Northlake pizza and pink wine later, we watched Harry Potter -- at least I did; Brian fell asleep halfway through. Apparently while money can buy as much entertainment as one wants, lack of sleep will still still get the better of you.

Escaping Halo 3 to the IMA last night, I knew the evening TV would be a little different than my usual gym accompaniement of the Today show. But I had no idea how weird TV had become. I always thought VH1 was the more mature music channel, a step above the Real World and TRL (though who doesn't miss those two months of middle school when we could've set our watched by the regularity of KC and JoJo at number one every afternoon?).

Last night, VH1 followed an hour of Britney's most bizarre year ever (how did I miss her frenzied, bald, umbrella- weilding car smashing incident?) with The Pick-Up Artist.

A motley crew of awkward-but-seemingly-nice-enough guys role-play picking up hotties per the pseudo academic guidance of the magician and "former" nerd extraordinaire Mystery. That is his name, and, apropos I suppose, he slinks around all ruffled and feathered in a costume of flouncy shirts, cowboy boots, large hats, tight pants, and goatee -- in essence, dolled-up like a pirate too flamboyant even for Disney's Caribbean. One of few men for whom wearing an eye patch or a paisley ascot would seem more reasonable than not.

He also speaks very creepily in a slow, calm voice with big words, medium-sized social theory, and diminutive intentions. Possibly the magician is hypnotizing his audience with his uber-controlled speach?

I don't know that any individual recommendation he gave was particularly degrading or sleazy. His advice on body language seemed valid, his statement that there are no good pick-up lines correct, and his directives on approaching women in a nonthreatening way was very studied. But therein is Issue #1: people have been seducing and charming each other for centuries, but for the most part it's done through a genuine connection or personal charisma, not through a con man's formulaic checklist of do's and don'ts.

Issue #2: It's a how-to show for men about picking up women. Not for people to picking-up other people, not for establishing a good relationship, or meeting the right person, or any of the countless other issues people impose on the very natural act of mating. It establishes a clear gendered power structure via subtle manipulations, it promotes deception and objectification, and it pretends any two people can successfully play out the same prescribed interaction. The show is no more based in reality than Mystery's costumes are based in real style, and the men following him are as duped as the women they target.