Shampoo Solo

Setting: Weekday Morning, Creative Review Meeting, 10:38 a.m.

Boss: So, Darth Vader isn’t the No. 1 movie villian of all time?
Co-Worker: No, No. 1 is Voldemort.
Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
Co-workers Who Are Harry Potter Nerds: Laughter.
Co-Workers Who Are Not Potter Nerds: Confused looks.

People. This show is ridiculous. It centers around a faux team of hockey players and the many, many ladies who bonk them. It’s airing on SoapNet at 11 p.m. Thursday nights; that net picked it up from Canadian channel CBC.

The most ridiculous part is that CBC canceled the show after its first season, but yet that season is still airing in the US.

Let me make sure I’m being clear: A show about HOCKEY got CANCELED in CANADA, but yet is being broadcast in the US. I would love to meet the brainiac exec who thought this was a killer decision.

Oh, wait — I forgot the MOST ridiculous part: CBC canceled it because of high production costs. Which might seem easy enough to swallow, but four episodes have aired and there hasn’t been a single scene of hockey being played, like, on ice. What the hell are they spending all that money on? Hair gel?

Now that I have effectively bashed it, I also must admit this: I freaking love MVP. The team captain is all kinds of conflicted about love, and his daddy the drunk is the team’s coach; the has-been star player killed his wife and daughter in an accident and now compulsively sleeps around; the rookie has a white-trash girlfriend who takes care of her invalid grandmother (the only storyline that has any emotional truth to it). The players all go out to bars after games and mack on hockey groupies. The New York Times is right in calling it misogynistic. It totally is. (Although, it’s gotten more equal in its humiliation of the sexes after a scene involving the rookie and a bucket tied to his manjunk.)

The thing is, the premise has so much potential, 90% of the time I’m watching I’m running over how I would have written it in my head. First things first, the bar hopping and sleeping around would stop, and I’d marry off two of the main characters, one to a high school sweetheart (they’d have a two-year-old son on the brink of being diagnosed as autistic) and the other to a female professional athlete (let them spar over whose sport is more important and difficult). The rookie storyline can stay. Oh, and hello — clearly one of the three main characters should be the team’s goalie. Mix in some actual sequences of hockey being played, some trade rumors, some sharp criticism from the press, some rivalries with other teams, and — for the love of God — a few road trips, and I really honestly think it has potential.

I expect chiming in from the husband about how wrong I am in 3… 2… 1…

More (ridiculous) photos (of the full cast! with a horse!) here.

There are two playlists on my iPod right now — the latest CD by The Kills, and The Ting-Tings, and they are right next to other thanks to the wild coincidence of having ‘the’ in their names — and I think it’s weird that both albums have bizarre songs with similar themes.

The Kills, ‘Sour Cherry’: I’m the only sour cherry on the fruit stand …

The Ting-Tings,’ ‘Fruit Machine’: You keep playing me like a fruit machine …

Maybe it’s not that weird, but it makes me think of this Lisa Nova video, which I adored when it first came out, and cracks me up to this day. Also, The Kills song is great, while The Ting-Tings one sucks. A lot.

My point here: It does not exist.

On a somewhat related note, is the new Beck CD any good? Should I buy it? And should I stop scouring every interview with him about it to see if he mentions Scientology and Jeremy Blake and Teresa Duncan? Yeah, I probably should.

How awesome would it be if this turned out to actually be some kind of viral marketing campaign? For Hellboy 2, maybe?

1. Mercy — Duffy (Currently the free single of the week on iTunes, first exposed [to me] by the guys at Asylum, a site all dudes should be reading; Duffy’s like Amy Winehouse without the drugs, showcasing a ‘Stand by Me’ beat without any of that Sean Kingston annoyingness.)

2. You’re a Wolf — Sea Wolf (You can download this one for free from Spinner, then be prepared to listen to it on repeat endlessly.)

3. Flat on the Floor — Carrie Underwood (This was the second song she performed on ‘SNL’ a few weeks ago; it was stronger live, but it proves Carrie can do more than smash headlights when she’s angry.)

4. Don’t Bring Me Down (Live) — The New Pornographers (From the Soho show iTunes is currently selling. An American classic as performed by my absolute favorite band.)

5. Work That — Mary J. Blige (I normally despise Mary J., but even I can’t resist a song this catchy; a coworker shared it with me for an office mix CD.)

6. Open Your Eyes — Snow Patrol (Currently showcased in the ‘Stop-Loss’ trailer, which proves this song can make me want to watch anything.)

–When and how did it get to be 10 p.m. on Sunday night, without me noticing, or GETTING TIRED?
–Matt Damon has knocked up his stupid wife again. George, you can go ahead and knock up boring-but-eats-scorpions-Sarah whenever, I now, finally, see it coming.
–I didn’t win at bingo despite coming extremely close about 18 times. And there are only 20 games, total.
–Last year at this time, I was outside, wandering, hand holding. 2008 IS TOO COLD.
–Work = PBBBBBBBBBBBT.
–Where the HELL is the April Vanity Fair, Mailperson?! Someone’s gonna get cut if it doesn’t come soon.

1. I was all jazzed up for the return of SNL with Tina Fey as host. I was disappointed. No 30 Rock skit? Why lead with the Bret Michaels skit instead of the There Will Be Blood skit? (Yes, I love any Blood joke.) And that digital short was the biggest flaming pile of poo I’ve ever seen.

2. We watched Michael Clayton and I was very proud at having figured out everything that was going on about an hour in, including the horses. And then that night I had a naughty dream about George Clooney, which was a weird combination of Reservoir Dogs and the standard “I’m running / I’m being chased dream.” Dear Beer, Clooney is fine.

3. I’m watching the Oscars. Really? George Clooney and Jon Stewart getting this much screen time? Is the universe toying with my ovaries? Why doesn’t Matt Damon show up and start playing guitar, too?

Update: When Jon Stewart brought Marketa Irglova back on stage to give her thank you speech, I thought I was going to weep. I feel like I’m going to weep just thinking about it.

This came in the mail today:

Dear Subscriber — We regret to inform you that Blueprint magazine has ceased publication with the January/February 2008 issue. We’re going to have a blog now instead! Aren’t we so Web 2.0?! Oh, and we’re giving you a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, too, because there’s no way you get that already, right? WE KNOW! BLAH BLAH BLAH.

(OK, so I paraphrased that last bit. ["That last bit" meaning "Everything after the first sentence.])

I’m not 100% sure why I find this news so disappointing (and, yes, I know, it’s oldish news), but I do. I have a file in our office where I’ve saved every issue of Blueprint; it quickly usurped Real Simple as my nerdy-homebody magazine of choice. It was useful, it was hip, and, well, I really liked the masthead font.

And speaking of Real Simple, can you guess which soup is their cover photo, and which is my replica of their recipe?

OF COURSE YOU CAN. Mine is the one that was photographed after it had been slightly eaten, and in very poor lighting. However, it was a Big Deal for me to cook that soup, all By Myself, and I had to Use the Blender, and it turned out really well, and Scott liked it, so he took a photo.

(Can you tell how bad the writer’s block is? It is REALLY bad.)

Finally, this is how we’ve come to pass our time in at home since we’ve gotten an L-shaped couch:

We bought the couch so there’d be room for everyone to sprawl out comfortably, but most of the time, there’s room for me, and the cats, and Scott gets a sliver of room on the very, very end. But, hey, the coffee table is at the perfect height to take timer photos! Which we’ve been doing. A lot.

(I’m so sorry. I’m hoping the block passes soon, too.)

The current state of our (really, my) DVR kind of says a lot about me; in chronological order:

30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
Psych
In Treatment
In Treatment
Psych
In Treatment
Jon & Kate Plus 8
In Treatment
Jon & Kate Plus 8

Just going by that you might draw the conclusion that I’m a neurotic woman who should consider therapy, and who also might secretly want eight children. Luckily, I can’t watch ‘Jon & Kate’ without a large glass of wine (or two) so at least one of those things isn’t true.

Also, I am fucking Matt Damon.