60 Minutes II
I gotta tell you, newsmagazines creep me out. Either they're all about terrorism or kids on drugs or, like tonight, serial killers. I swear, Dan Rather's piece on Seattle's Green River Killer had me double-checking my front door. Sure, there are evil people out there... I saw From Justin to Kelly. That doesn't mean I like watching them confess to killing because they "wanted to." I thought 8 pm was supposed to be the family hour. Then again, for a second, I also thought that Rather had morphed into John Forsythe from his Dynasty days. Blue hair, Dan? Really.
Star Trek: Enterprise
Yowsa. Looks like someone finally realized that a great-looking cast means nada unless you get 'em nekkid now and then. Tripp and T'pol's Vulcan neuro-pressure fondlings finally gave way to some serious down and dirty, but even better than that was her morning-after confession that she used him to see what human sex was like. Nice. I guess in space, no one can hear you say "booty call."
Place your bets now, gang, because the first results show may quite possibly have given us a winner. That little Diana, who's like, 16, has the voice of Xtina, the cuteness of Hilary and the votes of a nation. Not that Fantasia wasn't fab, too. She's got a Macy Gray-on-cough-medicine sound and a killer style, but when even my roomie's aggressively sarcastic boyfriend gave the kid a thumbs up, it was pretty much a lock.
Let's just say it: We love Luke! Not only did he see through crazy Oliver, but it's looking like he's about to get his Ashton on with Julie Cooper. Now, if they had let Ollie shoot himself, this would have been a perfect episode because, that way, we'd be spared any special-guest returns. But he lives on off-screen and we'll have to settle for that. Thankfully, Ryan isn't going to just settle for Marissa's weepy apologies. Nope, Coop. You are in the doghouse with our troublemaker from Chino. Better hope his ex, Theresa, doesn't find out... heeheee.
The West Wing
I'm sorry, Toby's calling the vice president boring? This, from the prince of pout? Lord alive. That one wouldn't know fun if Gary Cole walked into the Oval Office wearing his "Oh-face" from Office Space. Nor, I'm beginning to suspect, would the writers. How else can you explain casting Jay Mohr as a mouthy radio host and shafting him screen time for yet another crisis du jour about international arms? At this rate, I'd take Howard Dean's primal screams over Bartlet's yammering regime.
Lanny, my editor's name is Tracy. She'll be waiting for your call, OK? You can thank me later. Besides, Ian is so going to end up with Meredith. They kiss all the time, she took his brother's grilling with grace and he's got a best friend named Damian. That last part may not seem too logical to some of you, but trust me: It's a good thing.
I'm warming up to this Todd Santos. He's finally having some laughs with the whole idea of the viewers deciding what he does. Trying to make nice with his mom was a sweet, if ill-fated, move mostly because she's an absolute nightmare. Almost as scary as how drunk he got with that band. People, please, do this guy and his liver a favor and vote for him to go solo. While you're at it, throw in a vote for him to call AA. Buddy, it's not how much you drink. It's what happens when you do. And what happens when you do is not pretty, OK?
Now I know why my mother was always checking on what my brothers and I were watching back when the Holbrook house first got cable. This show is just raunchy! Sexually explicit game shows from the Netherlands. A Japanese um, uh... man-seed marathon. It's crazy! And the language! The dirtiest we ever got was a late-night run of Barbarella. Man, kids today are so lucky.