May 30, 2012 § Leave a comment
I know I took a little time off, but it wasn’t you… it was me. I was working at an Indian Casino losing 5 years off my life from second hand smoke for minutes of primetime summer programming. 8 minutes to be exact. And you know what kind of hours it takes to produce 8 minutes of TV? I’ll fill you in later when I write the memoir.
Anyway, recently I’m applying for this sitcom writing thing, totally a long shot, but whatever. I wrote a little ditty for the application and thought, “you know who might enjoy this?”
So here you go, the crass is back!
The gravitational pull television has on me is arcane considering I grew up with a one hour time limit on the tube, sans cable. “Go play outside,” was the summer cry. Threats of, “Oh I’ll give you something to do,” came after the first frost. Although, the display wasn’t something to be pining over. It was the size of a microwave. Not until I moved out did my parents spring for the 42 inch plasma, surround sound, pay-per-view, premium channels, you name it, the works. But I couldn’t be bitter. My dorm/prison had basic cable complementing my studies as well as frat boys down the hall. Sorry, Dad.
The aptitude test I took in 9th grade told me I should go into entertainment. I scoffed in my rebellion. How cliché for a small town country bumpkin to give up her life on daddy’s farm by setting her sights on Tinsel Town? My poetry class taught me to be allergic to clichés. However, after a decade and four years side tracked by photography, here I am. Now I tell everyone that being a Gen-Y white female from rural Midwest who enjoys a good fart joke makes me minority in this town. My voice is worth listening to.
Reflecting back on my coveted hour basking in the blue glow of sitcoms and possible seizure, I see where my alliance to television was solidified. Perfect Strangers, The Cosby Show, Cheers; funny how even my parents’ restrictive viewing allowed me to indulge in the comings and goings at a bar owned by a womanizer. There were other rules, like when Jerry’s set was over during the opening titles of Seinfeld; I had to go brush my teeth. My curiosity almost gave me an aneurism. I’d have killed to know what my father was belly laughing at as I waited for him to tuck me in on the commercial break. If I had to pinpoint the moment, it was this uproar of laughter that drove me here today. I’m on the quest to make the people I love laugh. And when I call him to complain about the lack of air-conditioning in my car for the third summer, I let him know that.
May 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
Life of Walsh Episode: 106
It was only a couple weeks ago. Easter. I had packed up Mister Red and headed to Boston on the ultimatum that he must accompany me to see my grandmother or else. Making a trip of it, we decided to stay with friends and roam the city the day before.
We took the red-eye then a nap and after a sunny walk from the Common and through Copley we took advantage of the spring day and started drinking. Sangria to start, me and my HS pal split a pitcher while the boys tried varying micro brews couple blocks from The Green Monster. After seeing the famed stadium, we hopped a train to Quincy Market so Mister Red could get something cheesily touristy for his sister as requested. And a bathroom. We all needed one.
After getting a pin at Cheers we strolled down to the North End for dinner (or as Mister Red kept calling it, “The north side”). There we stopped at a friends’ house, split bottle of wine and picked up two more people. At dinner we put down two more bottles, and I’m sure there was a glass or two when we got home. 12 hours of drinking completed. Wino badge of honor.
The next day we were battling. I’d felt worse in my life so I trudged through. I just had to make it to dinner with my grandma. We were going to Legal Seafood. If you never been you have to know they make the clam chowder served at the white house. Presidential Soup. They have a seafood casserole that you want sing sweet nothings too. Needless to say, I was saving my appetite. I ate minimal breakfast and chugged red Gatorade to cure my hangover.
Now my parents had driven from Michigan to be in Boston as well and both of our pilgrimages were about to meet up with lobster. It was poetic. However, the drive was not. The greater Boston area has some of the windiest, narrowest roads of any city. Old horse trails to blame, I guess.
Now I normally get carsick sitting shotgun, sometimes even when I’m driving in heavy traffic. Add on sitting in the back seat, a seasoned Bostonian at the wheel, a slight hangover, and over a liter and a half of colored sugar drink… what do you think was happening?
My friend’s BF flipped a sudden bitch to let us all out in front of the restaurant. My father doing the same with his car and my mother helping my grandmother. The last maneuver made me woozy and I tried to make the world stop spinning. Now my grandmother’s eyesight has faded, she’s now legally blind, but sharp as a whip.
I stood there trying to contemplate if I should run inside and try to relieve myself in the bathroom of the seafood restaurant, but the though of soiling the sacred place was more than I could take so I took a few deep breaths.
Then I projectile vomited between two pillars. Red Gatorade, you did me wrong! My mother does nothing and gets my grandmother to the door. Minutes later she meets me in the bathroom. She asks me if I’m alright. Well, I’m better now! She just says, “But you think you can eat fish, right?” Yes, of course, that’s why I sat in a middle seat on a 5 hour red eye for. Then she tells me, “We’ve all decided not to tell your grandmother, she’s blind anyway. She’ll never know.” Well great. That’s one person I don’t have to feel embarrassed in front of.
After an amazing dinner, my nana rocked out with us until about 1:30am. I started nursing wine shortly after dinner and it turned into a fantastic time and the only thing that’s ruined was my perception of red Gatorade.
May 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’ve talked before about getting older, becoming more responsible, developing adult tendencies. It’s a looming thing in our generation, we keep thinking, “stay young.” Maybe it’s because we don’t feel old, or maybe because we’re still in denial of loosing our college years to time. But I digress… My most recent you’re-getting-older-when moment was even a shock to me.
Even though I work in the television industry I don’t have cable. I have internet, I don’t need cable. I’m going to take a moment to get off topic and preach. I pay $30 per month for internet, $8 for Netflix instant streaming and $8 for Hulu Plus. Mister Red contributed the PS3 and we’re in business. I can watch what I want when I want. I’ve been doing this for years even before I was bestowed with the PS3. I would hook up my computer to the TV. And I’ll tell you the best part of this, besides saving money, it keeps me from watching hours of crap. My head might be in the sand about some of the train-wrecks for TV shows out right now or late night talk shows, but that’s the way I like it. Try it. It’s going to be like this in five years anyway… convert now.
The one draw back to this set-up was the elimination of sports. Going to the bar every time there was a game was taking a toll on our livers and wallets. Then we bought the digital box (aka Bunny Ears) at a one time fee of $50 so we can watch sports on Network TV. But then we discovered something else on Network TV, something we’d never thought we’d fall in love with let alone schedule dinner around.
It all started one rainy Sunday evening during March Madness. Both our brackets had gone down hill after Michigan State lost and we found ourselves channel surfing after getting bored with a game when we stumbled upon something we thought only our grandparent’s watched. 60 Minutes. Best show on TV. Who knew?
I don’t remember what the exclusive was that first episode, but it was better than anything I’ve seen on the discovery channel. We were hooked. This is good hard reporting, on often hard and yet fascinating issues. These interviews are certainly intense, world leaders, business mongols, athletes, celebrities, hard questions.
Now we watch it every week. It rules our Sunday. Even when entertaining guests… 7pm we put 60 Minutes on. Sure you have to endure the AARP and retirement investment commercials, the occasional animated Ensure advertisement. Some breaks are just a laundry list of side effects from pharmaceutical advertising with every other one for erectile dysfunction. Obviously we’re outside the target demographic for this particular programming.
60 Minutes, you’re grandparents best kept secret. You actually feel wiser after watching.