A Pregnant Woman's Ultimate Dream TV Wish List

Or, A List of TV Shows That Don't Actually Exist Yet, But Totally Should

Or Or, Why I Should Be In Charge of a Television Network Already

Or Or Or, Why I Should Probably Never Be In Charge of a Television Network

This post is brought to you by XFINITY from Comcast. Watch all your favorite shows from anywhere with XFINITY TV. The views expressed here are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of Comcast or its partners.

Surviving in the Desert

I don't talk about my in-laws that much. I mean, do I? I don't think I do. FUN FACT: I have probably deleted all of about...three or four blog entries, tops, ever, since I started this site (counts on fingers...oh my GOD) seven years ago. But I still remember the very entry I deleted. It was about visiting my in-laws, and despite sound incredibly tame and ridiculously nice compared with the kind of screeds you saw flying across the average anonymous Blogspot blog back in those Wild West days, I deleted it at Jason's request. 

So I've been good, right? Other than occasionally holding them up as a case study for the Advice Smackdown, I feel like I've barely mentioned them. So I'm due! I can talk about my in-laws for just a little bit. It's my Christmas wish.

DISCLOSURE: This post is brought to you by XFINITY from Comcast. Watch all your favorite shows from anywhere with XFINITY TV. The views expressed here are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of Comcast or its partners.

Superbowl Sell-Out Spectacular!

Jason and Amy watch the Superbowl Halftime Show. An only vaguely embellished transcript.

Jason: Why isn’t anyone else doing a halftime show? Like MTV usually does something.

Amy: Who knows. Who cares. They all suck.

Jason: We could watch the Lingerie Bowl on pay-per-view.

Amy: (silence)

Jason: Oh. The regular halftime show is MTV. Sellouts.

Amy: Jessica Simpson! Aaaaeeeiiiiii!!!

Jason: Nice majorette costume.

Amy: She’s stupid dumb.

Jason: Look, here’s the least embarrassing member of the Jackson family!

Amy: And she’s gone goth! Or gladiator.

Jason: She is so not dancing.

Amy: You mean singing?

Jason: Yeah, that too.

Amy: P. Diddy! Aaaeeeeeeeiiiiii!!

Amy: P. Diddly Iddly, as Flanders would say.

TV: Oh Diddy you’re so fine you’re so fine you blow my mind...

Jason: Those are words no one should ever have to hear.

Amy: Uh oh, Nelly’s coming! The cheerleaders are switching teams! I sense a tussle!

Jason: This is a good song.

Amy: Yeah, like over a year ago.

Jason: Too bad when Nelly was on SNL he was practically tone deaf.

Amy: Yeah, the acoustics must be much better in Atlanta.

Jason: (snort)

Amy: BA WID DA BA DE BANG DE BANG DIDDY

Jason: And next in the parade o’ corporate mofo sellouts…

Amy: BA WID DA BA DE BANG DE BANG DIDDY

Jason: Stop with the head banging. You’re freaking Max out.

Amy: I don’t think you’re supposed to wear the American flag like a poncho.

Jason: It’s nice that the halftime show is featuring the big hits of two years ago tonight.

TV: (unspeakable acts of censorship and editing of Kid Rock’s “Cowboy.”)

Jason: This song used to be…edgier, I thought.

Amy: I’M GONNA PAINT THE TOWN RED, AND PAINT HIS WIFE WHITE

Jason: I think he said something like “Yay, go football, woo!” instead.

Amy: He took off his flag poncho.

Jason: The cheerleaders all have flags now.

Amy: Yay, go America! I’m a cowboy, baby!

Jason: What are those things where the names are being shown?

Amy: Who’s Jane? Oh, Janet’s back. Where’d Jessica Simpson go?

Jason: They look like big banners of tumors.

Amy: They do. Or vials of pills. I’m not seeing what they were going for with the scenery here.

Jason: Hey! This is just as good as the Lingerie Bowl!

Amy: It’s the goth gladiators from Cabaret.

Jason: This song is such a rip-off from Parliament Funkadelic.

Amy: (silence)

Amy: You’re old, man.

Jason: Shut up! It is!

TV: We are a part of the Rhythm Nation...

Amy: My bro-ther is a ped-o-phile! Hey, that fits!

Jason: She’s saying stuff that we’re supposed to be opposed to, but I can’t hear her.

Amy: The big tumor billboards are saying NO!

Jason: I think she just said illiteracy.

Amy: Funny how her mike worked so much better during the song.

Jason: Just say no to halftime shows!

Amy: Justin! He's dreamy.

Jason: He’s probably the most talented person we’ve seen yet.

Amy: I believe he is actually singing.

Jason: I believe he actually smacked Janet’s ass.

Amy: The marching band looks a bit out of place at this point.

TV: Gonna have you nekkid by the end of this song...

Amy: Oh my god!

Jason: What, what?

Amy: Justin just ripped off part of Janet’s top!

Jason: Ok.

Amy: No, but her boob was there! And she had a little silver pasty thing on her nipple.

Jason: No way.

Amy: Way. It was way risqué and downright un-American. I’m writing CBS a letter.

Jason: Whatever.

Amy: No, seriously! And through the miracle of TiVo, you can rewind and still see Janet’s boob!

Jason: That’s right! Where’s the remote?

(At this point we spent a few minutes playing with the TiVo remote and watched the Janet Boob Unveiling of 2004 several times and at several speeds. Yes, we are sad, sad people. Go Patriots! Or go whoever and just finish and show Survivor All-Stars already.)

Short Bits and Follow-Ups

After looking at my stats and referrers, I must conclude that Tolkien was mistaken: all who wander here ARE lost, actually. While amalah.com is rife with keywords, it's horrifically devoid of actual content.

So I shall address a few Google search terms, because I'm bored:

Ford fuel pump recall: Yeah, you know what? Don't bother. Even though the cause of this recall (car stalls or nearly stalls in low gears on low fuel) has been well-documented and complained about since the Focus was first produced, Ford just issued the notice...but still, the parts won't be available until next month. If you car stalls, the best they'll offer you is an "interim" repair, which sounds way scary and sketchy -- like duct tape, gum and a blowtorch.

When I took my car in for the Battery Incident, I asked about the fuel pump recall. Yeah, uh-huh. Got the car back with the following note on my bill: Fuel pump recall: Parts may be in next month. Ford, it’s a RECALL, for god's sake. It’s the car equivalent of YOU called ME. And then asked who the hell I was and why you were speaking to me. And then kept me on hold for hours and hours and then hung up.

So. Ford fuel pump recall. Call first, plan to take your car in February. In the meantime, either keep your gas tank full and happy or be prepared to be the idiot who stalls at lot.

Oxygen network schedule: This is my fault. I have bitched and bitched about TiVoing AbFab episodes on Oxygen, only to end up with Roseanne eps. I finally cracked the elusive scheduling code and believe that the fault may not lie with Oxygen, but with my digital cable, brought to you by the clowns at Starpower. Oxygen is being broadcast a mystifying three hours behind. Why? We do not ask, we do not know.

But I now record Girls Behaving Badly at midnight on Friday night and wake up Saturday morning with a brand-spanking-new episode of Absolutely Fabulous that supposedly aired at 9 pm.

So I guess Oxygen didn't deserve all of my ire, but they still suck because they air exactly four things: Girls Behaving Badly, which is not nearly as funny as it could be; Roseanne reruns; Oprah After the Show, for those who just can't let go of the big O after only one hour; and some sex advice show with a host who thinks that she makes the show edgy and scintillating by holding up dildos occasionally. Also: old Meryl Streep movies you've never heard of.

an open letter to the guy who stole: Stole your what? What did he steal? Your bike? Your wallet? Your dignity? How can I help you if you don't give me the whole story? And why did you conduct the search twice within an eight hour period? I can see these things. Did you steal my bike? Don't leave me hanging, random Googler!

I want your bod; bod men commercials; men shirtless bod; body fantasies ad; bod men must die; etc.: It's official!! Those horrid commercials have infiltrated the psyches of Americans everywhere! We Google endlessly, looking for a purpose or point to the mystery that is the Bod Men! But there is none to be found! We want your bod! We all want your bod!

Stupid TV Heaven

Oh. Oh yes. They're here. Survivor All-Stars.

Rupert! Rudy! Richard! And a bunch of other people!

I already hate Jerri more than anything, all over again. Die, Bitcherella. Go and drown yourself in an all-new puddle of evil.

An Open Letter to the Oxygen Network

Oxygen! Again with the Roseanne episodes labeled as Absolutely Fabulous!  Oy with the poodles already!

What the eff is your problem?

See, here's how the happy world of TiVo is supposed to work. I tell TiVo to record all eps of AbFab. You tell TiVo when AbFab is on. But no, you tell TiVo that AbFab is on when really, it's Roseanne. This is where the entire system breaks down, Oxygen, and as far as I can tell, the blame is solely in your court.

What do you need me to do, Oxygen?  Help me help you. I want to watch your network. Yes, I'm going to fast-forward the commercials but I will watch your network! Should I use reverse psychology and record Roseanne episodes? Should I write a letter to The Oprah telling her what fuckwits you are?  Do you have an 800 number I can call to tell you to knock it off?  Do you need a program fact checker to make sure you're sending the right information to the TiVo-program-guide-bot?

Seriously, do it again and I will destroy you. I mean it, I'll...I'll...I'll post more tantrums about you!  Don't mess with the Almighty Amalah and her little blog!  AbFab? Good. Yes. Show it.  Really.

Just count your lucky stars that TiVo also recorded the Happy Days episode where Tom Hanks plays a karate expert seeking revenge on Fonzie, because I'd be really, really mad otherwise.

TiVo Betrayal

Woke up this morning and was absolutely beside myself with glee when I discovered that TiVo had recorded an old ep of Absolutely Fabulous for me last night.  TiVo, sweetie darling, how did you know?

So after finally chasing Jason away from his zillion old Star Trek episodes (Starring! Captain! James T. Kirk and a cast! Of!  Thousands!) I settled down to watch the Brit-style drunken debauchery of Edina and Patsy and secretly note how similar my friends and I can be to them sometimes...and...and...

ROSEANNE??  The hell?  Damn you Oxygen channel!  Not only does 99% of your programming suck but you mislabel Roseanne as Absolutely Fabulous??

Hate, hate, HATE you so much.  It was supposed to be the ep in Morocco where they sell Saffy into white slavery and then have all sorts of hashish-induced visions INCLUDING the one where we find out Pats may have possibly been a man for a period of time. And instead you give me a post-shark-jump Roseanne wih the wrong Becky and everything.

You hear me Oxygen?  HATE!

Holiday Cheer & Commercials

I love Christmas so much.  Am such a dork, really.  I love decorating the tree, putting up lights, non-mall-parking-lot-shopping, trying to get other people to bake cookies for me, TNT's all-day marathon of A Christmas Story, and of course, presents.  And then two days later, birthday presents!

And then it's all over for me, for a whole year. Boo.  Poor, poor Christmas baby.

So in the spirit of over-compensation, I milk the entire month of December for all it's worth. So who am I to complain about holiday commercialism?

A girl with a blog and a deep-rooted need to complain, that's who.

There are certain holiday commercials that show up every freaking year and They Must Be Destroyed.  They're the "you-know-it's-Christmas-when..." in the worst possible way.  Like, I kinda look forward to the Staples Back-To-School commercial with the dad prancing around the store to "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" (now that the back-to-school season no longer applies to me, anyway).  And I accept the inevitable increase in ads for electric razors and lottery tickets (seriously? people give those? lame!). 

But then there's the Body Fantasies ads.  These commercials get heavy rotation every December (in fact I'm not sure I've ever seen them anytime else), and they are So Bad.  There are at least three of them, one for the ladies and two for the men. Or vice versa.  I can't really tell who the hell would watch these and think that drugstore-level fruity-smelling body sprays are the perfect holiday gift. The one for the ladies' spray is going for a sensitive-yet-highly-sexual-earth-mother thing. Gentle water imagery, flowers and implied vaginas, typical crap. PSA to Men: Women don't want this stuff. Go to Bath & Body Works, The Body Shop or Sephora. Spend money, get laid.

Then there are two for the Bod Men (Man?) spin-off product. "Nice Bod!  Great Bod!  I want your Bod!" a female groans over strictly homoerotic footage of shirtless sweaty men playing basketball or shirtless sweaty men playing guitars.  Thumping techno manly beats.  Nice Bod?  Seriously, even with the recent 80s revival, that phrase is NOT making a comeback.  Neither is the totally gnarly crimped hair the girl groupie is sporting in the men-playing-guitars variation.

So while the Body Fantasies ads are going for cool and failing miserably, the cha-cha-cha-Chia Pet ads are camp and know they're camp, but I'm still sick of them. Everyone knows that Chia pets are like, the worst gift ever to anyone outside of dissaffected high school students who are looking for a super-cheap gift but want one that at least has some irony or kitsch-factor to it. 

The Chia herb garden is kinda cool, but lately I can't watch the commercial without thinking that the ad was filmed so long ago, the kindly Grandma in it is probably dead.  And the kids in the basic Chia Pet ad are really homely trolls in sherbert-colored sweaters.  And doesn't it seem like every year they try to hype the same "new" design--the Chia Head or the Chia Tweety Bird?  (Oh, I stand corrected. This year's new design is the Scooby-Doo head, hot on the heels of the moderately successful blockbuster of 2002.)

I guess Chia Pet still doesn't land the lucrative movie tie-in deals. Though I'm surprised they didn't get The Cat in the Hat...they're whoring Dr. Suess out to any cheap product that sat still this year. Mops, cereal, Burger King ornaments, Oreos, enemas, you name it.

The last commercials that must go away are the Lexus commercials.  You know the ones--strictly nuclear yet properly multicultural rich people surprise each other with bow-topped luxury cars.  Oh, consumerism!  Debt!  Extended financing!  You shouldn't have!  I always lose it when the parents give one to their daughter. That's just so wrong. And yet I wonder, if I did decide to buy Jason a Lexus this year, would the dealership really give me a big red bow?  Cuz that's a good deal right there. 

If anybody doesn't know what to get me, just put the big red bow on a big box of money.  Two days later, repeat.

I'm Not A Survivor, But I Play One On TV

Ok, everybody MUST go read Television Without Pity's recaplet of last night's episode of Survivor, which was like, the best thing EVER.  The full recap should be a hoot, since the recaplet includes the best sentence ever written about Burton. "He is seriously the tooliest tool that ever tooled."  My god, that's literary genius.

I won't even attempt to describe Burton after that.  Jon?  Hate him with every fiber of my being, which makes me hate him even more because he's not worth spending that kind of emotional energy on.  My only hope is that after his 15 minutes as Johnny Fairplay/Rotten/Fuckface are up, he'll never get laid again because the entire female population has seen just how repulsive he really is.

Lil?  A self-righteous pipsqueak. I want her to go away.

Darrah?  No personality to speak of, and an annoying voice to boot.  But three immunity wins in a row?  Damn, don't mess with tiny Southern morticians, y'all.

Sandra?  Loved her at first, then not so much. Started out the ep on a low point by threatening to sabotage the camp in a babyish tantrum hissyfit.  But how could you not root for the girl who gave us the classic Jon-sound-bite: "He's an ass" and was the only contestant who seemed to realize that the Dead Granny Fairplay story was bogus?  Plus, I think she's pretty.

So in summary: Boo Burton, go away Lil, tentative golf claps for Darrah and Sandra, and Jon is the douchiest douche that ever douched.