Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs

Um, what the hell happened on Real Housewives of New York last night?  I thought last week's episode was bananapants, but Kelly Bensimon has clearly and totally lost her mind.

To recap: Ramona is renewing her wedding vows (because 17 years is a milestone, and it's not a season of Real Housewives without some big ridiculous event at the end of the season), and to celebrate, she is re-living her bachelorette weekend in St. John's with Alex, Bethenny, Kelly, and new girl Sonja.  Last week the ladies were on a yacht, where Kelly oddly blew up at Bethenny about being a cook instead of a chef, then called her a ho-bag, the ladies found a Hooters yacht to hang out on, and everything seemed to be okay.

Until this week.  The ladies departed the yacht and moved the crazy action to a villa.  Bethenny brings a gift bag for each of the women (sure, it's SkinnyGirl branded, but who doesn't love a gift bag?) which brings Kelly to tears of rage.  Kelly also brought down a pad of paper to breakfast and announced everyone should write down their complaints on it.  And then after a weird photo shoot session on the beach, Bethenny makes dinner for all the women and...whoa.

Whoa.

Whoa.

Slow your roll, Kelly.  Whether she was tweaking out from too much coke/not enough coke/having an actual mental breakdown/whatever...what was this nonsense?  She called Alex a vampire, said Bethenny was trying to kill her, started randomly yelling "Al Sharpton!  Al Sharpton!", was shoveling Gummi Bears into her mouth at an alarmingly rapid pace (for someone who claims to not eat high fructose corn syrup), among other things.  

It was funny for a while, but then it got really, really disturbing.  And this is where, for me, the reality TV line of "so bad it's good" and "wait...this is not okay" got crossed.  Kelly, from what was presented on last night's episode, is obviously having some kind of mental break.  Whether it's drugs or brain chemistry or what, something really messed up is going on in her head, and this is a woman with two small children to raise.  According to Bethenny's blog, what we saw on-air was "tame" compared to what really happened, and all the women were scared for Kelly's safety.  Clearly exposing her life on TV is not a healthy thing for Kelly to do.  There's nothing Bravo can do about it now - this season is shot and edited, and she signed the releases and the episodes are going to air.  But I'm curious to see if Kelly will be returning to the franchise if there's a season 4.  She's kind of unhinged, in a way that's not super fun to watch anymore.  I'm sure Andy Cohen has a huge reality TV boner thinking about the ratings and the buzz the last two episodes have generated right about now.

On a lighter note, there was a moment in last night's episode where Ramona was handed another glass of wine and took it without even looking at it, which made me die laughing.  Jezebel has a clip of it here.  You know things are getting rough in RHONYC land when crazy-eyed Ramona is the sane one.

the people behind the reality

Meet Doron Ofir, the Man Behind 'Jersey Shore'

In case you ever wondered what it takes to find the people whose exploits disgust and entertain me/you/reality TV viewers, here's a sample.  Doron Ofir is a casting producer who's been around since 2000, bringing you the Situation, Snooki, the millionaires of Millionaire Matchmaker, the skanks of A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, among others.  And what Shelly Tatro, VH1's VP of creative programming, says about him sums up reality TV casting: "He puts desperate people together and gets inside their heads.  He's very gifted."

And the man himself doesn't have a lofty point of view about what he does: "We are pioneers of an ugly age.  Our business is like a short bus."

As a former casting producer, I can tell you HE. IS. SO. RIGHT.  I worked for a period of time on a show about extramarital affairs and spent my days finding people who had not only had extramarital affairs, but would talk to a stranger about it on the phone in detail, would sign a 7 page release form saying they would talk about that extramarital affair on camera, would get the other participants in that extramarital affair to agree to either talk about it on camera or sign off on it being talked about on camera, and who were all, in the end, pretty damn excited about talking about that extramarital affair on camera.  They were the lowest common denominator, people who had done something terrible and wanted nothing more then to talk about it.

Whether reality TV is the symptom or the disease isn't something I can figure out.  But the fact of the matter is, we live in a fame obsessed society, and there are some people in this fame obsessed society who want nothing more then to be famous for something, anything.  And the feeling I always got about the people who would actually call me, someone they would never meet, and tell me all about that time they did the worst thing you could do to your significant other, was that this was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to them.  And if it could make them "famous" for a minute, an half-hour, a day, they were all for it.

And it was kind of sad, and I felt a little dirty and weird asking people "tell me all about the first time you and so-and-so hooked up" when I don't even ask my friends that, but at the same time, it paid my bills, and I found it fascinating.  Not just for the stories they'd tell me, but for their willingness to share them with me.  In a way, it's an anthropological experiment, which is how Ofir looks at it: "I know for a fact that any place where there is a culture, there's a show.  We obsess over every subculture or interesting, existing world.  Everything and everyone can be turned into reality television."

Obviously there's a good way to hold a mirror up to subcultures (True Life is a great example) and a bad way (sorry, Jersey Shore), but the guy has a point.  Have you ever known so much about drag queens or fashion designers or huge families or kids who live in Jersey?  And of course no representation is accurate, and editing is editing, and writing happens on these shows, and we're fools to think that there isn't, but at the same time - I've never met anyone like Snooki my entire life.  But on TV, in a way, I get to meet her.

Bret Michaels: An Appreciation

The dirtiest of my dirty reality TV secrets?  Hands down, without a doubt, Rock of Love, in all of its incarnations.  I started watching it thinking it would be Flavor of Love-esque: a whole lot of bottom-of-the-barrel girls doing ridiculous things to win a totally unappealing man with a clock around his neck and bad teeth.

But Bret Michaels is no Flava Flav.  Oh no.  Here's the thing: Rock of Love brought what I loved about FoL (crazy skanks, ridiculous challenges), but also revealed the kind of awesome person Bret Michaels appeared to be.  He was unfailingly sweet and polite to the crazy drunk girls in his care (hello, he kissed a girl almost immediately after she vomited up Doritos and tequila!), he played "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" with genuine emotion (of course, if a song was paying my bills two decades after I wrote it, I'd be into it too), and he appeared to have a serious sense of humor about the show.  Also, he's not hard to look at.  While he doesn't look like his Poison 80s self anymore (see: right), he also hasn't aged in a fashion where it's completely ridiculous to think women may still want to have sex with him.

I don't doubt that he was genuinely into some of the girls, but you could tell he found the whole situation totally insane sometimes.  And come on: "HIYO!"  The dude's hilarious.

As I've previously mentioned on this blog, I've had the opportunity to meet some really random "celebrities" in the past few years, mostly reality stars, but Bret Michaels has eluded my grasp.  Not for a lack of trying, though, as I have attended (more then one) concert(s) and managed to meet other members of his entourage.  Like right-hand man Big John (left)!  And bassist Dirty Ray (bottom right)!  And yes, I showered thoroughly after these photo ops.  Briefly I considered making my 2009 Christmas cards out of the photos I have with members of the Bret Michaels Band...but then I realized many of the photos of the nights in question really have no business being transported through the U.S. Postal Service.

But in any case, this post isn't about my questionable behavior at his concerts, this post is about the man, the myth, the legend, Bret Michaels.  Here's the thing: when I heard about his brain going all haywire, I was really legitimately bummed out.  Not because there are more trashy rock shows I need to attend in this lifetime, and not because I still don't have a picture with him, but because he seems like such a good guy.  He loves his fans, he loves the music that made him famous, and he really seems to appreciate everything he's been given.  I was reading an article in People last month (before all of his health problems) about him and his daughters and their Arizona home and I was like, dang, I want to go to Bret's for a barbecue.  And I'm not even kidding when I say I would have shed a tear for the guy if he hadn't pulled through.  Of course, I cry at Humane Society commercials but still.

Part of it is the music, because I grew up with teenage siblings in the 1980s and in a way, I know the hair bands of that era better then I know the boy bands of my high school days.  And Rock of Love really is one of my favorite reality shows ever.  And I've had some of the best times I've ever had at a concert at his concerts, with friends who share a not-so-secret admiration for the man in the bandana.  Who doesn't like to sing along to "Every Rose Has Its Thorn"?  But the biggest part of it is he is fun to watch.  Whether it's on TV or at a concert, he's a good guy having a good time and he wants you to have a good time too.  I mean, he's got a song about it!  I don't want nothin' but a good time either, Bret!

And it is with a somewhat heavy heart that I say, Bret, if this experience has made you marriage-minded and that means the end of Rock of Love, then I'm okay with that.  From this week's People:

"As painful as this experience has been, I was given a second chance, right?  I don't want to sit around every night worrying this is going to happen again.  What I want to do is make a positive bucket list and say, 'I'm just gonna go for it.'  There's just so much more I want to do and experience.  [Getting married], for sure, is something I have never done.  Kristi's such a great person.  We'll see if that happens.  But yes, that may be one of the big things on the list.  My first goal is to get back to 100 percent.  I want to continue to rock the world, and I want to continue to love my family and be a good father."

Cheers, buddy.  Get well soon.  And then come back to Minnesota so I can make an ass out of myself at a concert and get that picture with you I need to complete the collection.

Yay Bret!

Bret Leaves Hospital, Will Recover

This is seriously very exciting.  I have been mulling over a Bret Michaels appreciation post for a while, but it felt a little too much like a premature obituary.  Now that it appears he is going to live and getting a full set of photos with the Bret Michaels Band is still an option for me, I feel much more inspired.  Stick around, I'll try to make that happen this weekend.

I am tragically behind on all things blog because I am tragically behind on all things TV because I am never home to watch anything anymore.  I did watch Real Housewives of New Jersey, and man, am I glad to see those crazy bitches back again.  I missed their lunacy.  More to come on that as well, but in the meantime, check out Danielle's straight up nuts blog.  Holy crap.

Is anyone else really excited to see Alex flipping out on Jill on Real Housewives of NYC tomorrow night?

More to come!  Promise!  Kisses!

break my heart!

I'm going to pretend I didn't hear my future husband Jet talking about his wife and 17-month-old daughter on The Amazing Race last night.  I'd appreciate it if you'd all help me continue to live in my state of denial.

Anyway, WOAH.  Holy good episode.  The teams headed off to Shanghai and had to do a series of non-physical but incredibly difficult tasks.  Between noodle-making and dressing models at the fashion house and putting together a huge puzzle at the football stadium...it was an intense leg.  And I'm happy to say that for the first time ever watching The Amazing Race I didn't pick up on it being a non-elimination leg until Phil told the detectives that they weren't going home just yet.  Nice work.  I can't remember having a non-elimination leg this late in the game before?

And of course my wonderful cowboys came in first.  But let's talk strategy for a minute.  Brent and Caite, aka "the models", aka Miss Teen South Carolina and her doofy boyfriend, made a big deal about U-Turning Brandy and Carol (sending them back to complete an extra task) last week because one time Carol said something disparaging about Caite being a dumb beauty queen.  Brandy and Carol were eliminated as a result of that decision.

Okay, fine, take out your seventh grade aggressions, but that decision didn't help the models at all this week.  At.  All.  I say this with a heart full of love for the cowboys, but what kind of idiots do you have to be to not knock out the team that's placed first four times now?  And instead take out a team that hadn't placed first once?  On a reality show where you hardly ever see the other contestants, let alone talk to them?  I mean, they can take offense to people thinking she's a dumb beauty queen, but, um, you kind of are.  Hello.  Strategy is not about feelings.  I'm really hoping the detectives can make a comeback next week and send those dumb bunnies back on the stupid ship from whence they came.

I've barely been home at all lately, which leaves little time for things like cleaning and feeding my cat, let alone watching reality TV and writing about it.  I have a whole two and a half hours of 16 and Pregnant to watch!  Sacrilege!

Also: Bret Michaels?  Get better soon, dude.  Seriously.  For all his making-out-with-Playmates on VH1-ness, he seems like a genuinely good guy who loves what he does, and he has two little girls at home, plus people like me who won't be satisfied until I've met all the members of the Bret Michaels Band after a show at a casino.  Right now the only one I'm missing is Bret, so, you know, buddy, you need to get out of the hospital and make that happen for me.

Dang it, VH1

While VH1 hasn't fallen out of love with irreverence, it's also no longer in the business of getting Bret Michaels laid. Instead, the Viacom net is prepping a slate of unscripted series designed to more faithfully reflect the concerns of its core demographic. "As much as they've enjoyed the 'Love' franchise, our audience was getting a little fatigued by all those manufactured reality shows," said Tom Calderone, president, VH1. "They want more authenticity in their reality, which isn't to say that it can't be comedic and light."


Look, VH1, I'm still in the business of watching TV shows about getting Bret Michaels laid, so you just go right back into that development room and don't you come out until you figure out a way to make that happen on my TV again.

via.

Truth vs. Fiction

I probably should have been watching Glee last night.  As a savvy media professional who spends way too much time reading up on industry news, they're probably going to take away my membership card for not tuning into this year's television phenomenon.

Here's a little secret: I don't really like scripted television.  The list of shows I've never really gotten into is endless.  Lost, 24, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The West Wing, Gilmore Girls, Friday Night Lights...I mean, I have tried.  I have tried to watch these shows.  But I just can't.  And it turns out, the only one-hour dramas I really love are the first two seasons of Grey's Anatomy, season one of Felicity, and currently, Mad Men.  Half-hour comedies are a different story, even though my consumption of those is limited as well, but nothing beats a good Golden Girls or The Office rerun.

Previously, I have publicly blamed this on the fact that since I went to school for TV and took classes in writing for TV, I just know too much about how shows are structured to really relax and enjoy them.  And that's partially true - my brain starts working overtime, picking out the A story and the B story and figuring out when commercial breaks are coming - but the real reason is bigger.

I find scripted TV boring.

And there you go.

I don't like the American model of scripted television.  Without having a specific end date in mind, writers are forced to endlessly expand a story that was always better told in two to three seasons.  I was really into Lost for the first season.  But that show was poorly, poorly served by not having a specific end date in mind, because the second season was terrible.  Terrible!  And I didn't have the patience to stick with it.  The same story with Grey's Anatomy.  The first season of that show was genius.  And most of the second season was too, because so much was going on and so many stories were being told.  But then you got to season three and we all realized they weren't even through the first year of their internship program yet.  That's when Shonda Rimes and company started spinning their wheels and things like Izzie and George, Izzie and the dead deer, Izzie and the ghost of Denny (basically any storyline involving Izzie) started to happen and it was bad.  Bad bad bad.

It's a bigger symptom of how hard it is for TV shows to make money, and needing to get to a certain amount of episodes to go into syndication or release DVD sets, but in the end, storytelling always suffers when there's no end in sight.  The Brits have it right.  Their TV seasons are almost like extended mini-series, which makes a show into event television and serves creativity by giving writers something to work towards.

Why do I love reality?  Because it's self contained.  Because the story goes on as long as people are alive.  Because I can watch 14 episodes of America's Next Top Model and be cranky with Tyra for a while but then my commitment is over, and some of you have been irritated by Lost for 6 years now.  (Clearly I have the attention span of a gnat.)

I also love reality because the thing I fell in love with in film school was documentary film.  And like or not, reality TV (especially things like 16 and Pregnant, Be Good Johnny Weir, etc.) is the new documentary film.  I find real people fascinating.  I find what real people do fascinating.  And my TV is filled with it.

So I'll download the latest songs from Glee, and I'll probably watch the series finale of Lost just to see what happens, but in the meantime, I'll be over here with my DVR full of housewives and overweight people and aspiring models and pregnant teens.