My Wife and Kids
Hmmm. An hour-long clip show, built around the kids being out of the house. OK, I'll buy that. It's a good enough gimmick to send Michael and Jay down memory lane... which apparently only stretches as far back as the show's been on. But what's even weirder is that some of their recollections involved scenes neither of them were in! So, if these two are so psychic that they can remember moments in their kids' lives that they actually missed, how come they couldn't foresee that an additional 30 minutes would only serve to remind us that, sadly, the episode-ending bloopers are usually the funniest thing about this show.
60 Minutes II
I tuned in for the Isaac Mizrahi interview and ended up hooked on a report about the steroid-induced suicide of a 17-year-old. This is not new, really. We've heard of these things for years. Still, that ceased being an excuse as his heartbroken parents wept over their lost son and the senseless ending to a life that was just beginning. Honestly, it made me glad to have had the parents and teachers I had growing up. It also made me a little more worried about the guys at my gym who don't even have facial hair yet, but sport biceps bigger than their heads.
As for the Mizrahi piece... well, no biggie. Not that he isn't a lively personality, with his Marlboro-ravaged whine and pre-Carson Kressley fashionism. Plus, you gotta dig a guy who sees his mutt as the ultimate "one-of-a-kind" couture. It was just jarring to jump from dead teens to a Target frock-maker. However, he did sashay away with the best line of the night when explaining his many muses. "Even bitchy, bitchy, horrible women are inspiring to me." Me, too!
Well, well, well. It looks like the top 12 are going to be very diva-riffic. Among Fantasia, Diana and Amy, the poor guys who've made the cut have their work cut out for them. And now that Jasmine has joined the ranks, her newly minted cofinalist John had better pray that viewers vibe on his Perry Como-meets-Morrissey sound more than her blow-the-roof-off belting. And can I get a whoo-whoo for Lisa Leuschner's wild-card second chance? Do not let me down, people. Text message that girl right to the top!
A moment of silence, please, for Anna Stern. Pittsburgh's gain is our loss. Seriously, how come the writers couldn't come up with something better for our pixie than to send her home? She could have discovered Julie and Luke's secret and blackmailed the Dragon Lady into helping her break up Seth and Summer. We need a good teen villainess here, gang! Or she could have realized she was a lesbian. I hear they're still very popular. No matter, Anna's gone and we got a tearful goodbye, complete with a groovy cover of OMD's "If You Leave" that was just emo enough for poor Cohen. And speaking of poor folk, let's hope Theresa stays gone, too, and that Eric Balfour never shows his mug in Newport again. His agent's been working hard enough landing him gigs on Six Feet Under, Veritas and in that traumatizing remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The scruffy dude doesn't need to be picking fights at Orange County shindigs. We'd like to leave that to the locals, thank you very much.
Stephen King's Kingdom Hospital
Want to see something really scary? Yeah, me, too. Unfortunately, two hours of this adaptation of Lars von Trier's Danish miniseries failed to deliver anything close to the willies. And to think how rife a haunted hospital built on the site of a centuries-old mill fire should have been with potential jolts. Instead, we get Andrew McCarthy (very good with age, very bad with dialogue) as a doctor, Dynasty exile Jack Coleman being creamed in a morbidly gruesome hit-and-run inspired by King's own tragedy and an anteater. I'm not kidding. Better yet, a telepathic, evil anteater. Because so many are. And don't even get me started on The Sixth Sense-less ghostly girl, the Carrie rip-off and Diane Ladd's whole "I'm a psychic" thing. Honey, take your meds before I do, OK? Cause we're all gonna need something to get through the next 12 weeks of this mess.
Dawn of the Dead ad
That's right. George Romero's classic is getting spruced up for an all-new flesh-eating blue-light special at the mall! Finally, something scary. Or is this one just about those dead-eyed zombies behind the counter at Abercrombie & Fitch?
King of Queens
I love Leah Remini. She reminds me of my cousins, the DeBarberie girls, with that sassy Italian 'tude. And Kevin James? Please, he's just a lovable Matt LeBlanc without the Atkins diet. Still, I'm a little stumped as to how Jon Favreau has gone from Swingers to a recurring stint on Friends to a teeny bit as Doug's junior-high nemesis. Maybe it "expands your range" or something, but come on. Call your agent. Better yet, call Eric Balfour's. You deserve to be back on the big screen. You're money, baby.
Taxicab Confessions: Girls Like It Hot
I will never, do you hear me, never step foot into a cab in Vegas. After an hour of showgirls dissing their sugar daddies and party tramps discussing their latest lap dances, it's clear that what Sin City needs are fewer casinos and more free clinics. And maybe some taxi drivers who keep their eyes on the road and out of the gutter.