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Stiff Competition

April 22, 2010

My TV set is small, rarely used, on hand for when I want someone else to do the work. Tell me the story. Show me the pictures that form this story. Spare me the energy required by books, which require that I not just point my face at the story source but also read the words, process each sentence, and form mental images to cobble the parts into a whole.

TV can be interesting, and rare programmes can be challenging. But, for the most part, I watch things people have stopped swapping like cultural currency. And, CSI: Miami, which if it were a coin, would be television’s penny, and has slipped from mildly absurd to truly ridiculous. Female characters charge around crime scenes in sausage-casing pantsuits, swapping a beach-bunny version of Dick and Jane dialogue:

“What’s that?”

“It’s the new computer! Notice how it’s mounted to my Hummer!”

“Really? Let’s use it!”

“Ok!!!”

“Look! Look! You are totally using a computer!”

A long, beige cord runs from the back of my TV and tucks behind some nearby books to improve reception of the four channels I receive without cable. This means a nonstop supply of Law and Order: Sexy Victims Unit, and Coronation Street on Sunday mornings. Oh, Jack Duckworth, come on! Just accept that lady’s offer of a weekend in Spain! Vera died months ago! During commercial breaks, processed food products look even grosser than they already are, dark shadows and skewed colours blurring at the edges, but mercifully shrunken to 14-inch screen scale.

Although I rarely tune it, I’m no television ostrich. Standing in supermarket checkout lines keeps me abreast of starlet developments, reality show implosions, and surgery-related scandals, and I generally know, if not the details, the basic format and character line-ups. Considering this relationship, which can be described as arms-length at best, no one is more surprised than I am, that I will soon appear on a network programme. Filming dates were set last night, and the next three weeks of my life will be swallowed by a dinner party series. Who knew?!

Instantly, the internal questions rolled in, as my brain struggled to reconcile the application the lovely Z. and I completed two months ago (on a morning whim) and the reality of really being on a reality show:

What does one wear on television? How does one stand? What does one do with one’s hands? Are aprons appropriate? Do I have any freaky ticks, like shoving a finger up my nose when I fall under intense scrutiny, or disgusting cooking quirks, like licking my fingers while I roll pastry? Can you see down my favourite shirt when I lean forward to chop vegetables? Will a bright studio light shine right through otherwise opaque skirt fabric, putting cooch on display like those unfortunate starlets who plan poorly for red-carpet events?

All this hand-wringing before we even reach the menu! Likely, this post deteriorated into “confusing” for readers about two paragraphs ago; likely, you have as many questions as I do. What’s the show called? What’s the premise and format? When does it air? What happens next? Many of these are questions I could answer; some are not. Either way, as I wallow in food-tv anxiety, they’re all questions I will here leave hanging.

Stay tuned as the drama unfolds.

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7 Comments leave one →
  1. foodandpassion permalink
    April 22, 2010 3:28 pm

    and breathe….

    • welltailored permalink*
      April 22, 2010 5:43 pm

      uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh phooooooooooooooooooooo

      (in….out)

  2. April 23, 2010 4:46 pm

    So weird and exciting. I can’t wait to hear more about it.

    PS- I am writing you a letter about weird, but less exciting things.

  3. Adrienne permalink
    April 25, 2010 11:28 am

    Wow! Congrats Miss A. So exciting…. Look forward to hearing about it…and seeing it!

  4. April 28, 2010 3:44 pm

    My favorite application for anything drunk is why I “didn’t show up last night.” Everyone accepts that too drunk is a great reason to not show up. It’s the social equivalent to having the runs because both states indicate the person wouldn’t have been much fun at the party either way.

    The trouble is how easy it is to use this when you’re just plane anti-social. Five nights in a row of claiming too many cocktails when, really, you were home all along, is bound to get a lot of friends showing up, all at once, to come to some kind of your rescue.

    • welltailored permalink*
      April 28, 2010 5:43 pm

      The best place the get the party started is *totally* at your intervention!

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  1. The Cocktail Defence « Well Tailored Cakes and Neckties

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