Category Archives: tv i really shouldn’t be watching

lord grantham’s an ass & other thoughts on downton abbey, season 3, episode 5

The sisters on PBS hit series Downton Abbey: Edith, Mary, and Sybil.

the sisters of downton abbey: edith (jan brady), mary (marsha brady), and the (sob!) late sybil (the sexy one).

seeing how i mostly watch bad reality tv and golden girls reruns,  you were probably filled with a mix of fear and delight when i provided commentary on the pbs series downton abbey last month, where i proclaimed that thomas must go, o’brien must go, sybil is the hottest sister, mary is marsha brady, edith is jan brady, and the turkish guy was hot, even when dead.

(if you missed that post, you can read it here.)

now that holly and i are up to date on the current season, i’m back to provide even more commentary, some of which, i’m sure, will make you want to pull out my weave (not wearing one, but still) and/or cut me. let’s begin:

lord grantham is an ass. i can’t even stand looking at his face anymore. all his decisions are bad. he says all the wrong things. he’s haughty and classist and he needs to smile more. i thought i had problems with him when he made the wrong decision about sybil (oh i’ll get to poor sybil in a minute), but when he tried to get all the girls to leave whassername’s house because the ex-prostitute who’s trying to get her life back together cooked them lunch, well that just pushed me over the edge.  what makes you so great anyway, ROBERT? you wouldn’t have a dime without your wife, ya gold digger! and you’d still have nothing if your cousin MATTHEW didn’t give you his inheritance from his dead ex-fiance since you lost all your wife’s money! stupid ass!

next up: lady sybil. oh my goodness sybil. i can’t even. i can’t…i can barely even talk about this. i can’t believe she’s gone. i can’t believe the writer’s killed her. i was absolutely shocked. i told holly, sobbing, that i didn’t think i could even watch the show anymore, and that this is why i don’t watch shows like this, i don’t have the emotional wherewithal to do it. i still cry every time i see the very last golden girls episode! the one where dorothy marries that guy and leaves the house? omG. real tears. every time. i can’t discuss lady sybil anymore, it’s too painful so i’m moving on.

mr. bates. kind of tired of him. i’m glad they got that lady to tell the truth because i was beginning to think he did it. but whatever. i like anna, and the house does need some serious cheering up. so at least there’s that. (but i am tired of his face and his stoic quietness. it’s like: speak up dude! i can’t even hear you.)

o’brien’s still a bitch and she still killed cora’s unborn child, but at least she’s setting thomas up for a fall however she still needs to go.

and while i’m mentioning thomas, let’s talk a little about mr. barrow, shall we? (oh i’m suddenly sounding british! you see how smart you get watching pbs??) thomas is an ass, too. but unlike stupid lord grantham, who’s just stupid and haughty, thomas is actually evil. i’m still trying to figure out how he hasn’t gotten fired yet! he keeps creeping his creepy way back in. but i guess they need him for storylines. anyway, i hate that he’s the lone gay. of course he’s evil, right? and of course he likes the hunky new guy, whassis face. thomas, ever heard of GAYDAR, ya moron??? whassis face DOESN’T LIKE YOU. not only that, he’s going to tell on your gay ass and get you fired!

also: mr. carson, the butler, needs to get a friggin grip. take the pole out of your ass and change with the times, dude! not to mention have a heart because you’re really starting to act downright mean. plus he’s nosy. i’ve kind of had it with him. i’ve also had it with mr. mosely. he’s so annoying he doesn’t even deserve his own paragraph.

other thoughts:

i’m glad they’re strengthening daisy’s character. i really like daisy. she’s being pretty mean to the new kitchen girl but i don’t blame her. (stop flirting with o’brien’s nephew (i forget his name) and do your job!) i also love the relationship between her and william’s father. finally someone’s being nice to that girl!

i’m  also starting to feel a little bad for edith. let the girl write in the friggin newspaper! plus she has to eat breakfast with the grumpy men while her sister and mother get breakfast in bed because they’re married. what ridiculousness is this? at least matthew has her back.

finally, ethel. poor ethel. i know i know. she shouldn’t have messed around with that assh*le general but she did and got pregnant and such is life. but man, what a bum deal she’s gotten. mrs. crawley is the only one that even gives her a chance. even though she seems kind of grumpy sometimes, mrs. crawley has wormed her way into my heart with that one.

i’ll finish things up with some thoughts on grandmama, i.e. violet, dowager countess of grantham. not only is she pretty much the only comic relief in the entire show, but how’d she get so doggone old? seems like life was really a crapshoot back then, anything would kill you. they barely even had antibiotics. they gave milk for fevers. (barf.) girlfriend has seen a lot in her years. all in all  she’s quite fabulous and i’m sure she has a huge gay following.

class discussion questions:

1. do you think daisy will accept william’s father’s offer to move to the farm?
2. will mr. bates finally punch thomas in the face upon his return? will he start speaking a little louder so we can actually hear him? 
3. will edith find a man to marry despite her jan brady-ness and history of being a bee-otch?
4. would thomas be nicer if he found a boyfriend?
5. will i ever understand what the prison guards are saying? (probably not.)

until next time! CHEERIOS! CHEERIO!

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what is it with jews and seltzer anyway?

if i have a choice between plain water and seltzer i will always choose seltzer. why is this? i really have no idea. for starters, seltzer doesn’t even have a taste. second (secondly?), it has virtually no advantages to one’s health, only disadvantages, namely gas.

i’ve been thinking about seltzer a lot lately, as my parents very kindly gave me/us a seltzer-maker (a sodastream) for my birthday. well actually, it’s more of a soda-maker (you add flavored/colored powder), but since neither of us really drinks soda, it’s basically a seltzer maker.

we got it a while ago, back in the fall, but only started using it a few weeks ago. i think holly may have forgotten we had it at all. i, on the other hand, was simply scared of the carbon dioxide canister exploding in my face. anyway, it turns out it’s not all that scary (and quite simple to use, i may add). and let me tell you: since then, i have been drinking a lot of seltzer.

as i walk around the house hiccuping wildly proclaiming to holly you know, i probably shouldn’t drink so much seltzer, it’s got me thinking: what the hell’s up with jews and seltzer?

for some reason, there’s an inexplicable link between the jewish people and seltzer. or maybe it’s just jews in the northeast? or tri-state area (ny/nj/ct)? i have no idea. but i’ve met very few people in my life that drink plain (or flavored) seltzer that aren’t jewish. even the word seltzer sounds jewish. like it’s someone’s last name. as in: “honey, who was at synagogue today?” “oh, you know, the usuals: the rosenbergs, the greeblatts, the goldsteins, the seltzers.”

i honestly think there’s a jewish seltzer gene (JSG, if you will). i really do. every jewish household has or has had seltzer in the fridge. and it’s always “seltzer” to us. not “club soda.” it’s seltzer.

sometimes when we go out to a bar, since i’m not much of a drinker, i’ll order a “club soda with lime*” because we’re not in kansas anymore (kansas, of course, being new jersey). but truly, in my mind, i’m the jewish grandma shouting GIMME A SELTZER WITH LIME, DAHLINK. OY VEY DOES YOUR MOTHA KNOW YOU WORK AT A BAR? YOU’RE VERY PRETTY HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT MODELING INSTEAD?

*please note that i won’t be ordering anything with sliced lemons or limes at a bar or restaurant until at least april, as most, if not all, restaurant or bar-sliced citrus have norovirus all over them and, as G-d as my witness, i will do nearly anything to avoid the norovirus. 

the JSG (jewish seltzer gene) makes no sense to me, since jews, by their very nature are a) gassy (ok i made that up but it sounds about right) and b) complainers. we have very sensitive systems and complain about everything. why would we be inexplicably drawn to a beverage that will not only give us gas but compel us to complain to our spouses, friends and family about how gassy we are? it seems all wrong. and yet….we just can’t stop ourselves.

(is it because we’re bad swimmers? an…evolutionary adaptation to protect us in the event of a shipwreck? so we float to safety?)

one of my earliest and fondest memories of my late grandmother is the two of us standing side by side at her apartment’s kitchen counter–yellow formica speckled with gold–as she taught me how to make “orange soda,” my curious five-year-old eyes just barely making it above the counter.

“orange soda” was, of course, just orange juice and seltzer. but oh i adored it. anyway, i have continued to make it ever since (and think of my gram every time i do).

in conclusion (is there a conclusion here?), seltzer does have a taste. it tastes like seltzer! yes, it tastes like bubbles. thousands of teeny tiny bubbles. which beats the hell out of regular water. i’ve also started to make a less carbonated seltzer (two shots of carbon dioxide from the sodastream instead of four) to protect my sensitive jewish system.

p.s. about downton abbey (the subject of my last post)

WHY LADY SYBIL? WHY!!!!!!!!!! she was the nicest one! DAMMIT THIS IS WHY I DON’T WATCH SHOWS LIKE THIS.

also: lord grantham is an idiot! he’s always making the wrong decisions! AND THOMAS IS CREEPIER THAN EVER! WHY CAN’T THEY JUST GET RID OF THAT GUY? HE’S IMPOSSIBLE TO GET RID OF! LIKE A ROACH! HE JUST KEEPS COMING BACK!

we’re in the midst of a downton abbey marathon over here

The cast of PBS series Downton Abbey.

holly and i are usually  not the type to jump on the bandwagon when it comes to popular tv shows, but so many of our friends talk about the pbs series downton abbey that we were finally like ok let’s see what this whole thing’s about.

holly, of course, took the reigns and was like, babe, the new season’s starting, let’s get on this so we can watch season 3. so we started a trial of netflix and finished season 1 over the weekend. then we started season 2 last night (via a free trial of hulu–gotta love the free trials!). here are some thoughts so far:

on the cast & characters:

thomas is a little prick. i could kick his ass. why did they have to make him gay? not good for the cause. they should have fired him before he left. but i guess they need a villian for the storyline. i can’t even look at him. he disgusts me.

his friend, that lady who works for “her ladyship,” (the american lady that was in the 80s movie “she’s having a baby”)? she’s a bitch, too. mrs. whatever-her-face. (o’brian, mrs. o’brian, holly’s telling me now) i could elbow her in the mouth, i can’t even look at her face either. she needs to be fired, too. also: her and thomas smoke entirely too much.

mr. bates is my favorite. so is that girl, the one he proposed to? they’re both our favorites.

the youngest sister is the hottest. i know she’s probably young, but don’t hold it against me. she’s a dead ringer for a brunette scarlett johansson. she even looks good in the old-school nurses uniform.

edith, the blond sister: also a bitch. way to go spreading sh*t about your own sister! she’s the jan brady. everyone knows she’s an idiot. at least she can drive.

mary, the oldest: marsha brady, obviously. popular one. did you see how fabulous her hair is when it’s down? she’s ok. i mean, so far. there’s still plenty of time for me to hate her, too. we’re only on season 2, episode 3. plenty of time.

granny, i know she’s a really famous actress, don’t know her name. started out hating her, now i’m kind of liking her. she’s funny. wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, though. she was great in “the best exotic marigold hotel.” did you see that movie? FABULOUS MOVIE. see it if you haven’t already! i know it’s a weird name for a movie but trust me, it’s good. you know i wouldn’t lead you astray.

matthew, the cousin. i don’t think cousins should marry, even if they’re distant cousins. you gotta mix up the gene pool, people! he has nice eyes, though. despite the whole cousin thing, i want him and mary together. so wrong it’s actually right.

the turkish guy that died. he totally had a moment with evil thomas. even though i can’t stand him, i don’t blame thomas for putting the moves on him. also: he was hot even when he was dead. that’s true hotness.

daisy: stop picking on daisy! she’s a nice girl! geesh.

i have more commentary on more characters but i have a headache so i’ll stop now.

other notes:

watching the show, episode after episode, really gets me in the mood to talk like british people. i suddenly have the urge to say words like “lovely” and “quite.”

i get confused easily as we watch. i mean, first of all, they’re accents are so thick i need subtitles. also, there are so many names to remember. and secret alliances and plots. i’m not cut out for this type of show. i’m better with friends reruns, jersey shore and hbo’s “girls” (OMG WE LOVE THAT SHOW). far too intellectual and historical for me. but i’m trying. i do see what all the fuss is about. it’s a good show. gotta hand it to them, pbs really knocked one out of the park with this one.

lastly, for the longest time i thought it was downtown abbey. don’t even tell me you didn’t think so, too. glad to have that cleared up before i embarrass myself at a dinner party.

p.s. please no spoilers! pretty please!

holly would rather watch “snapped” than talk to me

so yesterday, sunday, i was talking to holly about something–i don’t remember what, but it must have been important enough for me to take the effort to project my voice from the kitchen, where i was loading the dishwasher, to the living room, where holly was on the couch watching, yes, “snapped,” the oxygen channel’s scintillating show on women who murder.

so i’m talking and i don’t know if holly thought i couldn’t see her or just didn’t care, but as i speak, i see the volume level on the tv go up. she’s not responding to me, and it keeps going up until i walk over to the couch–where holly is mesmerized by some gruesome crime scene–and announce that i cannot believe she’s trying to drown me out with the tv, and doesn’t she even care enough about me or our marriage to engage in conversation?

“babe, i’m trying to watch something!” she says, then starts laughing so hard that she starts to hiccup, which i secretly relish b/c it always seems like good, if harmless, payback for whatever the hell she’s laughing at, which usually has something to do with me. this obnoxious laughing-then-hiccuping thing typically occurs when i’ve caught her doing something bad, which she actually thinks is quite funny. which only pisses me off even more.

this is a totally stereotypical thing to say but whatever: at that moment, when i caught her tuning me out with the tv, i felt a real kinship with my straight sisters all over the world, because this seems like something only a man would do–to drown a woman out with the tv.

(holly’s going to burst out laughing and then hiccup wildly when she reads this but i don’t even care. YOU DESERVE IT.)

i’m starting to wonder: why am i going thru the trouble of marrying this woman over and over and over and over–FOUR TIMES I’VE MARRIED HER–if she acts like such a man?!

anyway, i stomped off, vowing i wouldn’t talk to her the rest of the day, but of course i did. i can’t help myself b/c i love her. i also usually have a lot to say, but that’s besides the point.

last night i decided to “bond” with her over one of her favorite shows, “harry’s law,” which i don’t know why they call her harry? but still, it’s a pretty good show. and i decide to bring up the whole turning-up-the-tv-while-i’m-trying-to-tell-her-something thing, you know, during her favorite show. (in my defense: i did wait for a commercial.)

“that was really rude,” i tell her, crossing my arms, trying my best to scowl but smiling instead b/c she looked small and cute on the couch. (dammit!)

“babe,” she said. “you talk a lot! and i listen a lot! but sometimes i just want to watch tv! and you’re always interrupting when i’m trying to hear something!”

“IT’S RUDE!” i exclaim. “it’s rude to turn up the tv when someone’s talking to you! it’s not like i couldn’t see!”

then she tells me that it’s rude to interrupt whatever she’s watching, especially b/c i start talking during the most important parts. i decide to stop before we really get into it–and before “harry’s law” comes back on (admittedly, i wanted to see if this one guy killed his wife like his brother-in-law in the mental hospital says he did).

look, i understand that my partner needs to unwind sometimes by watching tv. i get that. but i’m a person. I’M HER WIFE. i wash her clothes that she leaves all over the place. i will not be drowned out by the television. (holly, you’re hiccuping again, aren’t you? good. hiccup. if you don’t like what i’m writing here, leave a comment. that’s what the comment section is for.)

i’d like to hear from women (and perhaps men?) out there whose partners–i’m guessing most of them are actually going to be husbands and boyfriends, you know, male types–turn up the tv when you’re talking.

do they think we don’t notice when the house actually starts shaking from the explosions on the A-team movie?? why do they even want to watch the A-team movie?? everyone knows the best thing about the 80s was “the golden girls”! when does that movie come out?! DISCUSS.

part two: it’s cold & bright on the set of the anderson cooper show

"hi, i'm anderson. i know it's cold here, but my smoldering eyes will keep you warm ."

part 2 of a multipart series about our 3-weddings-3-states-1-day BFGW anniversary extravaganza (click here for part 1)

we determined the most sensible thing to do after my big fat jersey high school reunion was, of course, go to a taping of the anderson cooper show.

i mean, what else are you supposed to do after an evening saying things like oh yeah! i totally knew that was your identical twin! (twice!) and yeah yeah! i totally meant to wear jeggings while the rest of you beeotches had to wear GOWNS.

the next morning, before getting on the road to nyc, we hit the ritz diner, where we ate unnaturally large, fresh cheese blintzes (delicious) while holly joyfully discovered taylor ham. (as a non-pork-eater, i’d never tried it.) no one at the diner could actually explain what taylor ham was, which, personally, would worry me a little. this did not bother holly one bit, as she announced to the cashier that she’d like to get some for her family for christmas.

anyway, yes, anderson. anderson cooper is holly’s gay boyfriend. as soon as his new show hit the air and she found out it taped in manhattan, she decided we needed to go. being a planner, i.e. the one in our relationship who’s able to plan beyond what’s for lunch that day, she got free tickets like a month in advance. we were pretty  psyched.

we rolled into the park slope neighborhood of brooklyn, i.e. the place where almost everyone i’ve ever known from every facet of my life–i’m talkin jewish sleepaway camp, middle school, college, first jobs, you name it–lives, sunday afternoon to stay with our fabulous friends meredith & tiffany, who are basically famous for being one of the first same-sex couples to marry in new york. they also both have great hair and seem too attractive to actually be gay. (sorry to go there but i’m gay and i’m totally going there)

to add insult to injury they’re able to run up to their fifth-floor walk-up with vegan-food-stuffed reusable grocery bags, laundry and bikes all strapped to their backs while holly and i basically had small heart attacks every single time we went up there while each carrying a single ikea pillow.

whatever. we live in baltimore. we dodge bullets. we feed stray pitbulls. we…oh hell. we stay inside hiding all day. that’s why we’re both out of shape and i have a vitamin D deficiency.

so of course i wake up monday morning, holly’s big day, w/a five-alarm migraine–the kind where i can’t even eat or look at a ray of sunlight–and we get to the building where his show tapes just as the last elevators went up.

“sorry, ladies,” the fancy elevator guy told us. “you just missed the last elevators up to the show. you’ll have to wait on standby.”

it was like i could hear holly’s heart literally breaking. i felt so bad. i obsessed over how bad i felt until anderson’s psycho fans came along and then started obsessing about how the hell i could get away from them while staying in line.

first, a disheveled looking lady came up to the surprisingly friendly elevator guy to tell him she had “a message” for anderson. and that she needed to go upstairs to give it to him since she couldn’t find his email address on the website anymore. i kept wanting someone to tackle her bc she was holding a lot of bags. (hello! bombs!)

then a lispsy gray-haired guy came up to us and asked us 10 million times how we got tickets for the show even tho he said he had tickets for the next day. then, while holly was in the bathroom, he had me take a photo of him standing next to a photo of anderson. then he asked the elevator guy if the fact that he worked on a cruise ship would get him up there while i covered my hands in antibacterial gel bc i had touched his camera.

then the crown jewel of psycho male anderson fans came along: this mustached middle aged dude with an on-and-off-again yarmulke (i.e. the little skullcap jewish, mostly orthodox, men wear on their heads). he immediately honed in on holly as a friendly bystander and started loudly singing to oldies to her. i was rude to him, of course, i don’t even remember what i said, i just wanted him to go away. then holly got mad at me bc i’m always freaking on the crazies.

you only make them crazier, she hissed thru her teeth. even tho i told her she was wrong, i knew she was right. but it was too late. the damage was done and, to be completely honest, he really did just get crazier. in the meantime, bc of my pounding headache, everything seemed very loud and very bright. things were not, as you might say, off to a great start.

our luck changed fast tho. the elevator doors opened–DING! “ok, they have room for four more,” the elevator guy said. “you guys are in.”

YES. things were getting better.

we got into the elevator and crazy mustache yarmulke man asked the poor anderson cooper lady that happened to be in there already a million questions until we got up to the 5th floor.

we wound up sitting in a balcony above and off to the side of stage for the first segment while mustache man stood not sat two inches behind me, breathing on my hair while simultaneously waving to anderson like he was on a navy ship about to set sail for five years.

despite the little voice in my head that warned me not to freak out on him, i finally turned around and whisper-yelled, directly into his face, can you move back??? then he loudly mumbled about how i act just like his bitch sister-in-law and then i prayed for the remainder of the segment that he wouldn’t hit me on the head with a chair.

we moved down to the main area for the rest of the segments. i should note that the set of his show, like all big television sets, i suspect, is outrageously cold. i’m usually five to seven degrees warmer than everyone else around me so this is really saying something. it’s also pretty much the brightest place on earth. not the best place to have a migraine, is all i’m saying.

and of course! of course anderson had to stand right next to us for what felt like half of the damn penn state show (it was a special on the penn state sex abuse scandal). i kept telling myself to keep my head up so i wouldn’t have a double chin on air but i knew it was useless so i focused on the view outside and my relief that psycho mustache man wasn’t behind me breathing into my hair and comparing me to his sister-in-law who probably isn’t as much of a bitch as he says she is.

we had a pretty good time, all things considered. kathy griffin (LOVE HER) showed up for a new year’s segment and they practiced slicing champagne bottles open with knives. and his fabulous mom, gloria vanderbilt, suddenly appeared. i kept wanting to tell them all we were getting married three times the next day but i figured i’d hold it in bc anderson would be reading it here on my blog anyway.

anyway, if you happened to see the penn state show, that zombie girl with the ponytail, double chin and massively dilated pupils next to anderson is me. and i was totally wearing the sweater i wore to my big fat reunion, so if you were there and you saw me on tv i don’t want to even hear about it.

more bad decisions: i watched “the mummy” last night and now i’m totally freaked out.

"you look just like my ex-girlfriend who's been dead for 3,000 years and whom i miss terribly! kiss me!" "no! i don't! eww! get the hell away from me!"

you have your good decisions (vegetables) and your bad decisions (doughnuts/fried vegetables/french fries). i pride myself on good decision making (many vegetables, very few doughnuts, moderate-to-low fries) but last night i really tanked when i decided to watch “the mummy.”

we all know my ability to tolerate horror movies, even when they’re really faux-horror-pseudo-lesbo horror movies. (i.e. i have absolutely no tolerance and scream like a little girl). i’m sure holly would have stepped in and told me to change the channel, you’re going to scare yourself, especially at night, etc. etc. but she was on the phone. game on, i thought. i live to be unsupervised.

i kind of always wanted to see it. besides being a closet sinatra fan and “today” show Superfan (i’ll get to that later this week), i am also a lifelong ancient egypt nerd. as in: my very first book report (4th grade) was on mummification. (i wonder what my teacher thought when i explained what canopy jars are for? hint: storage for mummy guts for use in the afterlife. she never liked me. had her for 5th grade, too. i’m sure she was thrilled.)

so when it was on while i was doing dishes last night, i was like, what the hell, let’s see what this mummy movie is all about.

i missed the beginning but i think what happened was that these egyptologists found an ancient book of spells or something, read one out loud and awakened the beast, who was basically an angry-ass mummy that really missed his old girlfriend who was used as a human sacrifice at some point. i have no idea. but that’s what it seemed like.

he goes around killing everyone, awakening the ancient dead and sucking the life force out of the other egyptologists so he can get stronger. he also opens his mouth reaaaalllly wide, screams and creates sandstorms. oh and he brings these ancient cockroaches back to life that eat and kill people. nice!

i mean, it was pretty cheesy, but also pretty freaky and of course i couldn’t stop watching it. during the last 10 minutes holly got control of the remote and kept switching to “army wives” during the commercials and i was like BABE! WHAT THE HELL! I WANT TO FINISH WATCHING THE MOVIE!

she kept insisting that “she knew when the commercials would end and she would turn it back.” but i was like, “YOU HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN WATCHING THIS EPISODE OF ‘ARMY WIVES.’ WHY IN THE HELL WOULD YOU WANT TO WATCH THE LAST FIVE MINUTES OF IT?!”

to which she responded: “I DON’T KNOW! I JUST DO!”

(and yes, we have turned into the costanzas and now shout all of our conversations.)

she eventually relented and we watched, in awed silence, perhaps the worst commercial known to man (thanks, next day floors! note: this is low-budget baltimore at its finest, folks. welcome to our world), at which point holly turned to me and started complaining that you see? we didn’t have to change it yet. at which point i elbowed her in the mouth (in my mind) and told her to hush up, i needed to get ready for the final minutes of the movie.

so yeah, the end is how you’d expect: they kill the zombie mummies, save the girl, say another spell and grumpypants gets sucked into the ancient egyptian underworld. then the antiquity-filled tomb collapses, they get out in the nick of time, etc.

then i went to bed scared of my own shadow, holly said “you see? i told you you shouldn’t have watched it” and i had to sit thru a special encore of “army wives” anyway, during which i sighed heavily and kept bugging holly to turn it down. her response was, of course, that she watched my dumbbutt mummy movie and now i was going to have to deal with “army wives.”

there is no moral to this story. just that a) the lady in the mummy is really pretty b) mummies probably have really bad breath and c) i’m totally going to have to see “the mummy returns.”

what would you do if you found out i was a fugitive? would you turn me in or live life knowing your wife could never ever get a parking ticket or else you might lose her forever?

susan lefevre in 1975, left. marie walsh, ex-fugitive mom, right. pretty mugshot! you go, girl!

you might hate me for saying this, but i’m not the biggest oprah fan.  she’s incredibly good at what she does. but honestly? i’ve always imagined she’d be a bee-otch to work for (confirmed by these annoying behind-the-scenes shows on her new cable network–which holly inexplicably likes to watch while we’re trying to go to sleep, don’t even ask me why–and all her producers seem very, extremely scared of her) and therefore find her show hard to watch.

i also don’t enjoy the fact that she’s on the cover of every single issue of her magazine. she is, however, a big friend of the gays and i enjoy her interviewing style. so that might cancel it all out.

anyway, it was with great surprise when i found myself absolutely glued to her show yesterday, which focused on this lady, marie walsh–just your typical upper-middle-class, tennis-playing, horse-riding mother of three (or four, i forget)–who was, unbeknownst to her husband and family and everyone else, actually a fugitive on the run for 32 years. yeah, i know.

her real name was really susan lefevre and she was arrested at 19 for selling 2.5 grams of heroin to an undercover state trooper in 1975. (it sounds like it was a set-up but i don’t know.) and it was her law-abiding grandfather that helped her break out of prison. (you can read all about her story here. she has a new memoir out b/c, apparently, you have to either be snookie or a longtime fugitive to get a book deal these days.)

holly and i both got really into watching the show and at a certain point, after oprah talked to this woman’s husband, i got to thinking:

what would holly do if she found out i was a fugitive? not that i am. (really, i’m not. tho saying that does make me sound kind of suspicious.) no really. what if i had escaped out of prison and was on the lam for like 25 years (this would, of course, make me a seven-year-old fugitive) and changed my identity and had totally kept it a secret from my partner and one day she found out?

so i asked her.

“it depends on what you’d done,” she said.

my gut reaction to her answer was disappointment. [versus, say…when she rated me “an eight” (and that was “including my personality”) on a scale of one to 10 when my gut reaction was red hot seething anger. you can read all about that disastrous conversation here and don’t say i didn’t warn you. ew i’m getting angry just thinking about it.] b/c i was prepared to say i would support her as a fugitive no matter what. b/c we’re married and best friends and together for 10 years next month, and hello, we love each other.

so i thought about it.

“yeah, i guess you’re right,” i announced. “i mean, if i was a murderer, that could be a source of worry. but if i sold 2.5 grams of heroin in 1975 it’d be different.”

(now she’s saying, as i write this, that the bigger issue would be lying. like, if i lied about that for so long, what else could i be hiding? quiet holly! i’m trying to blog. she’s kind of right but whatever, i’m totally not talking about that right now.)

i told her that i would support her as a fugitive no matter what, and commit myself to living a life devoted to making sure she never got a parking or speeding ticket. (this would be difficult, as she’s a pretty risky parker sometimes. also she sometimes speeds but usually only b/c i’m always running 10 to 20 minutes late so she needs to drive faster to whatever event we’re going to so it doesn’t, you know, end before we get there.)

anyway, despite my disappointment, i’m going to stick to my original thought which is that yes, holly, i would stick by you if i found out you were a fugitive. i know that you’d never hurt a fly, so how bad could it be? plus i wouldn’t mind moving every few years. i might even let you get a motorcycle, b/c, you know, fugitives need motorcycles. and fugitives’ wives need jet-black motorcycle jackets with lots of unnecessary zippers to wear on their fugitive partners’ motorcycles. and i’d have to get, like, badass boots to match. these are my priorities, folks.

anyway, i’m wondering: would you stand by your woman or man if he or she was a (non-violent) fugitive and was hiding it from you for, like, 32 years. discuss.