You know, there are some things that block out the sun when it comes to TV viewing and, for me, it's these Bachelor/Bachelorette finales. Nothing else matters, much less my integrity. Tears flow, phone calls are ignored, fists are shaken at old loves for being such monstrous disappointments. Hell, I can even look past the drawn-out visits to Meredith's family, the multiple flashbacks and the unending teasers for "the most dramatic rose ceremony ever." Because, in the end, the drama of figuring out who is about to get their heart broken becomes all-consuming. Granted, we got to see both Matthew and Ian winning over the folks, canoodling with Mer and being just so damn fantastic. This was a tough one. Unlike, say Trista, who got off easy with Ryan, since Charlie was obviously too cheesy for the on-air wedding you know she already had edited in her head. In the end, though, our girl Meredith stayed as true to herself as she has all season and went with Ian, the insecure investment banker who went against his own word and slipped a mighty piece of the rock on Miss Phillips' hand. And you know what? I bought it all. It was romantic, surprising and hopeful, which is exactly how fairy tales should end. As for Matthew, don't you worry. I'm sure he will be just fine. His goodbye speech elegantly bordered on poetic, and anyone with those cheekbones and that body will have no trouble finding a pair of shoulders to cry on. In fact, buddy, you might want to drop a line to my editor Tracy right now. I know it hurts, but you're from Texas. Get back in the saddle!
The Kents need to start worrying about the company Clark has been keeping. Every week this guy befriends someone who turns out to be a mutant or a madman or, like tonight, a bomb-crazy teen who wants Jonathan's liver to save his brother, who has died once already! Like Pop's heart-surgery scare weren't bad enough! Word of warning to the good people of the Metropolis suburb: Whenever a doctor says, "I've never had a patient come back to life before," just high-tail it out of there. Trust me, Gotham City never has these problems. Oh, and Lex... back off. You're getting awfully handsy with my Lana and I don't like where that is heading.
It's All Relative
Oh, man, if my Oscar night goes as badly as Phillip's did, I may end up in the ER, too. Superglued to Mace and tended to by nurse Louise Fletcher? I'd rather face Joan Rivers on the red carpet in nothing but a Bjork-designed nipple shield. Or at least spend the big night at a corner bar with Simon and Audrey. At least they realized that the big show is nothing if you can't dish the celebrities when not debating which ones are worth a "free pass." But, Maddy honey, my roommate has the same thing for Johnny Depp and none of us can understand it. Even cleaned up, he's just a dirty, French-loving no-goodnik.
Well, thank God for Group 3. Not a bad one in the bunch and that is what this show is all about. As expected, after much fanfare from a surprisingly rugged-looking Ryan Seacrest, we got LaToya London, who even drove my older brother to call in a vote, and Amy Adams, who I fear is headed home soon after the real competition starts. Which is fine. Nikki McKibbin and Vanessa Olivarez will be sooo happy to have another fushia-haired wannabe to bitch with at the reunion concerts.
What is this, Grand Romantic Gesture Night? Between this and The Bachelorette, I'm swooning. Not since Donna Martin kissed David Silver in front of the whole gang at the Christmas dance (right before Steve went to find his birth mom) has there been a sweeter public display of affection than Seth's standing-on-a-table declaration of love before the Harbor School's student body. Summer girl, you show that emo geek the love! And while you're at it, hide his Member's Only jacket. That's just wrong. And, speaking of wrong, I'm sure some of you are icked out by the Luke-Julie thing, but come on. You know that when it comes out, Marissa is going to go completely over the edge. That alone is worth a season's worth of cheap motels and booty calls. Oh, and did anyone catch that Coop was watching a show called The Valley in her scene with Jimmy? I take much comfort knowing that the gang has a soapy teen drama to love, too.
Nike "Just Do It"
I'll admit it. I am not a sports guy. They're like foreign films without subtitles. Or the Arquette family. I just don't understand them. But I do understand this commercial. Andre Agassi as a baseball player. Lance Armstrong in the boxing ring. They can do anything. We all can. It's simply inspiring. And I'm an Adidas fan, no less.
America's Next Top Model
Yes, this was a repeat, but I needed to see modelettes crying all over the place. And these drama queens did not let me down. Though I hope someone is getting Shandi the therapeutic aid she so obviously needs. A few tears for a boyfriend back home is fine, but enough already. You are in New York and cute boys are hitting on you at clubs. Grab a Xanax and get over that rube. Tyra, you rock my world and your single doesn't suck. I'll be in your video anytime.