Unapologetically Mundane » a taste for tv

katie ett — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 01:37:56 +0000

Every time they show one of the Real Housewives of New York or New Jersey out to eat, all I can think is, “If you’re making five figures per episode, why are you dining at a restaurant I’ve never heard of?”

Not to be a snob.

They Grow Up So Fast

plumpdumpling — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 16:00:56 +0000

Along with turning my brain to mush and making me think I might want to do something ridiculous like go to culinary school when I can’t even eat tomatoes, reality TV shows are currently making me question how much of an old lady I am.

It started yesterday afternoon with this woman, Courtney Kerr, when I saw an episode of “Most Eligible Dallas” on Bravo:

As soon as I saw her, I thought, “God, why does Bravo keep doing shows about old people?” But then I realized that their demographic is probably the middle-aged housewife living out in the middle of nowhere (i.e. Dallas) and not the twentysomething wannabe-culturehound living in NYC.

But THEN I saw her age flash across the screen: twenty-nine.

That is what a 29-year-old woman looks like? I was under the impression that this person was in her late 30s or early 40s and had maybe had some work done.

Then I saw the age of another of Dallas’s supposedly most eligible:

Early 40s, right? Or, like, maybe even 60 but with a decent plastic surgeon. But no, she’s TWENTY-THREE! Is that even possible?

Then there are these two from “MasterChef”:

Adrien, 28, and Jennifer, 34. To me, Adrien looks solidly in his 30s, and Jennifer could be Helen Mirren’s slightly younger sister.

I’m not saying any of these people look bad, but none of them look remotely close to the image I have of myself. I know I look older than your average college student, because when I look at girls who are 21 or 22, they look like babies to me. Like, almost to the point that they seem a little gross and unwashed. Maybe a little drooly, even.

But when I look at all of these people, I feel like I’m the baby. Does the camera add ten years in addition to ten pounds, or do I just look like an old lady in my late 20s and not realize it?

“Big Brother” and the Inability to Accept Compliments

plumpdumpling — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 16:00:26 +0000

Like the other 99% of Americans who think “Big Brother” season 13′s Rachel is catty, fake, pathetic, and trainwrecky, I saw right through her ruse about Cassie being a threat and a liar. Cassie is pretty and sweet, and Rachel is pock-faced and bitchy. (When the Head of Household trivia competition revealed that America thinks Porsche’s more likely to steal a man than Rachel is, Kamran said it’s not because Rachel doesn’t want to be a homewrecker but because no other man would ever have her.) (Also, yes, there is a woman on “Big Brother” named after a car.) I was as disappointed as anyone when Cassie was voted off, but I was even more disappointed by her exchange with host Julie Chen in her “reaction” interview:

Cassie did such a great job of not saying, “I am pretty and therefore everyone hated me,” but twice she made fun of herself for not even trying to look good while on the show, and twice when Julie said, “But you still looked gorgeous,” Cassie ignored the compliment. I don’t know why, but that makes me so uncomfortable. I don’t think my parents taught me to duck compliments, but somewhere along the way, I started laughing off or denying most nice things people might say to me. And it seems like it’s that way with a lot of the really talented people I know, too. Kamran, for instance, told me he went to “grad school in New Jersey” on our first date instead of bragging that he got his Ph.D. from Princeton. And my best friend, Tracey, will never tell you that she’s an amazing writer/scrapbooker/singer.

It’s like we all think looking like we all have no self-esteem is favorable to just saying “thank you”. Or maybe we’re all so secretly full of ourselves that we know our answer to any compliment will accidentally be, “I know, right?”

Haha, Remember When Sitcoms Starring Black People Used to Be on Primetime Television?

plumpdumpling — Wed, 11 May 2011 16:00:33 +0000

Remember the 80s sitcom “227” starring Jackée Harry as Sandra and Marla Gibbs as Mary? Well, Kamran and I both grew up watching it, and now he loves to say “Mary” in the way that Jackée used to on the show. Which is of course something more like MAAAAAAAAAAY-ree.

And every time he does it, it CRACKS ME UP. It’s never less funny to me.

So we were on our way to our so-so dinner at Flex Mussels the other night when we spotted this doorway and somehow thought it was so serendipitous:

Of course, as soon as we took it, we realized that there’s a 227 on basically every street in NYC. But still!

The Strange Places Your Favourite 1998 Rockstar Shows Up

plumpdumpling — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 17:00:31 +0000

Kamran’s DVR has been 97% full for weeks now thanks to all of the “Criminal Minds” I’ve been recording from multiple channels, so I try to knock an episode or two or five out whenever I can. This morning while I was getting ready, I pulled up one with an intriguing synopsis about murders coinciding with a rock star’s tour schedule.

It started out with a band covering Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, one of the best songs ever, and I thought, “Hey, this is actually pretty good.” The lead singer’s Robert-Smith-esque white face and red lips were a bit copycat-ish for my taste, but his performance was so confident and real-rock-star-like that I couldn’t help but want to see more.

I thought, “How great must it be for this local band to get a break like this?” I thought, “This must be the greatest moment of their lives.”

And then I thought, “Wait, is that Gavin Rossdale?”

Now that I watch it again, it’s so obviously his voice. His perfect, perfect voice. So instead of it being some local band trying to catch a break, it’s actually a completely washed-out former rockstar now relegated to a TV crime drama.

And I couldn’t be happier! Now if only Daniel Johns from silverchair and Matthew Caws from Nada Surf would do episodes of “Law & Order” and “Burn Notice”, my high school lead singer crush trifecta would be complete.

Scotty McCreery as Alfred E. Neuman

plumpdumpling — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 17:15:53 +0000

Watching “American Idol” last night, Kamran and I couldn’t stop talking about how much Scotty McCreery is totally Alfred E. Neuman from Mad.

Right?

“American Idol” is the Only Drama Left in My Life

plumpdumpling — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 17:00:32 +0000

I kinda don’t have anything to say right now. Kamran’s finished with law school and the bar exam, so we’ve been doing crazy things like

1) going to the 3-Michelin-starred restaurant Kamran swore he wouldn’t take me to until I agreed to eat their signature oysters-and-caviar dish (and I did! (and liked it!!)),

2) driving to see our friend Anthony’s in Long Island with a bunch of other friends so he could make us a real home-cooked Italian meal in a house with a kitchen that’s its own separate room and not just a counter on one side of the living room, and

3) going for weekend walks in secret parts of the city and finding a 100-square-foot (i.e. normal-sized for Manhattan) wine store that happened to carry our favourite wine, the J.J. Prüm Riesling Kabinett Graacher Himmelreich 2008. We’re totally drinking with our preservative-free, microwaveable FreshDirect vegetarian meals now. One of us is drinking out of an actual wine glass that came with Kamran’s apartment (I was under the impression he had purchased wine glasses himself when I first met him and was impressed with how grown up it seemed, despite not actually liking wine), but the other glass broke at some point, so one of us is drinking out of a mug. Classy.

Anyway, life is good, and about the only thing stressing me out right now is deciding if I’m going to watch this season of “American Idol” or not. Obviously I watched all of the auditions, because that’s the only time you actually get to see people with singing talent. By the time you get around to the live show, the judges have weeded out anyone who doesn’t add Christina-Aguilera-ish runs to the end of every song.

I think the only reason I’m even remotely interested in watching this season is to see all the hacks and jerks get kicked off. A handful of the contestants are actually bad: Thia Megia, Tatynisa Wilson, Rachel Zevita, Kendra Chantelle, and Julie Zorrilla. A couple of the contestants are just unlikeable: Clint Jun Gamboa and Jordan Dorsey. There’s the one guy who’s an Adam Lambert ripoff: James Durbin. And most everyone else is just generic.

Here are the only four I care about:

• Brett because he’s a total freak with a voice to match.

• Casey because he scats in a not-annoying way and because he’s what Kamran calls a slobthrob, which is of course a slob who also happens to be a heartthrob.

• Paul because he may legitimately be Rod Stewart.

• Scotty because his voice suits him so little it’s almost cartoonish. He could put out a country album tomorrow and have it sound better than anything out there right now.

I don’t think any of them can actually win, of course, because they’re all too good. Kamran promises me we’ll make it through the season with the help of the trusty fast-forward option on the DVR, but maybe I should make a pact with myself to stop watching once the four of them get kicked off to avoid the pain of having to watch someone like Lee DeWyze win again.

“Criminal Minds”, “NCIS”, and the Case of the Not-Cool Character

plumpdumpling — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 17:00:47 +0000

As you know, I’ve been all over the melodramatic crime dramas lately, and I’m finding myself a little bothered by characters on two shows: Penelope Garcia on “Criminal Minds” and Abby Sciuto on “NCIS”. Both of the women provide technical support and clownish whimsy to their otherwise all-business teams. They’re “alternative” characters, both perpetual teenagers in grown-up bodies. One is a girly-girl who brings trolls and ponies to decorate her desk when she’s working with the NYPD. The other is a goth who needs to be constantly fueled by 32-ounce sodas.

And really, I like that they exist on TV. They’re both super-smart, super-capable women playing invaluable roles on their teams and bringing femininity to their positions in ways that are beneficial rather than weak and detrimental. My problem with them is that they’re alternative in the way that appeals to middle America, alternative in the way out-of-touch TV execs imagine alternative to be. Abby wears black lipstick and spiked cuffs, but she talks with a baby voice, and you kind of picture her listening to Michael Bublé in her downtime. Garcia is brought in on cases where teenage boys need to be talked out of convincing their classmates to hang themselves, but anyone who was 17 fewer than twenty years ago knows no teenager would actually feel a connection to her; they’d think she was trying too hard.

The same goes for her team, who you know wouldn’t give her a second glance outside the office, except possibly to comment snidely on her multicolored hair and too-bright dresses. People really living lifestyles that differ from the norm have a hard time fitting in with the straight-laced set, but these characters are “alt lite”, societally-acceptable enough that your middle-aged viewer doesn’t feel threatened but zany enough that your middle-aged viewer feels a little bit hip quote-unquote knowing them. The problem is that anyone who’s the least bit hip themselves (I’m talking about me here, obviously) is going to see right through the ruse and like the shows less because of it.

What’s interesting is that Garcia also appears on the new spinoff, “Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior”. (It’s like there’s only room for one quirky fat girl on TV at a time.) Meanwhile, Janeane Garofalo, who actually is an alternative badass, plays a super-straight Special Agent in pantsuits and V-necks. Oh, irony.

I Need a Music Video

plumpdumpling — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 17:10:30 +0000

I kind of assume no one’s watching “Saturday Night Live” anymore except when Jesse Eisenberg‘s hosting, so you probably missed this quietly hilarious digital short from Andy Samburg and the Lonely Island boys that’s been stuck in my head all week:

I know that a lot of you get really tickled by turns of phrase like I do, and this one just doesn’t stop being funny to me:

I just had sex
And it felt so good
A woman let me put my penis inside her

I just had sex
And I’ll never go back
To the not-having-sex ways of the past

Plus, the whole singing-on-the-roof of 30 Rock (where Kamran works!) with the Empire State Building in the background thing really appeals to me in how singularly New Yorky it is. Even usually-dumb Akon adds to it with his leather pants! I want to do that, too! To PJ Harvey’s “You Said Something“, obviously. I would of course have some scenes in the light room up there, though (if it even still exists):

Look how young we are!

And how much better-looking Kamran is now!

All I need is the leather pants.

“Lost” is So 2010, Apparently

plumpdumpling — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 17:00:05 +0000

Yesterday, I wore the t-shirt my best friend, Tracey, got me for Christmas with the Dharma Initiative logo from “Lost” on it

where the Dharma in the center is replaced with an outline of the state of Ohio, and not a single person so much as commented on it.

Tracey and I both know it’s basically nonsensical, but still. WHY HAVE I CHOSEN ALL THE WRONG FRIENDS?

Brokelyn

plumpdumpling — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 17:00:47 +0000

I know it’s reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal cool and all for Manhattanites to never leave the island, but on the “Millionaire Matchmaker” where the Cute Indie Gay Dude says to the Old Boring Gay Dude in Shorts (OBGDIS), “I live in Greenpoint; do you know where that is?” and it turns out the OBGDIS has never left Chelsea, I want to punch him in his old Botoxed face.

It’s like saying you don’t know where Montana is. It’s like, as Kamran always says, the way people talk about being bad at math like it’s cute or something. But OBGDIS had also never seen “Antiques Roadshow”, so screw ‘im.

The TV Understands Me: NYC Commercials That are Too True

plumpdumpling — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 16:00:37 +0000

Somewhere out there, there’s a small town that wants you back.

I remind myself of this and then go look at the Facebook profiles of all of my now fat, married, and childrened hometown friends every time I find myself complaining about life in NYC.

This video is also amazing but unfortunately has embedding disabled. It shows exactly what it’s like trying to hail a cab in a city where every man is out for himself.

Dumpy Butt (16)
Hatin’ on “More to Love” (22)
A Fruit by the Foot Commercial for the Ages (29)
Rich in NYC (7)
The Time That All the Bad Things Happened in One Single Night (21)
Defining My Personal Style (11)
Stuff I Like (6)
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It’s Not All Latch Hook Kitten Rugs (8)
Blame the Bus Driver (10)

Booty POP!

plumpdumpling — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 16:00:32 +0000

Dear makers of Booty Pop padded underwear,

I feel that I would be remiss in my duties to my loyal readers if I didn’t try your product and post a detailed review here. You know what it was that won me over? The fact that your sizes are listed as Extra Sweet, Sweet, Sweeter, Sweetest, and Super-Sweet.

My boyfriend and I are concerned, based on the commercial, that Booty Pop will make my already-perfect assets look unnatural, but I’m willing to give them a try. You know, in the name of science.

Booty-lovingly yours,
Katie

Deadliest Catch Premiere Party YES YES YES

plumpdumpling — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 16:00:46 +0000

I’m not alone in thinking that “Deadliest Catch” is the greatest show on television, right? I remember accidentally stumbling onto a marathon of it on the Discovery channel with Kamran one Sunday and being like, “Surely there’s nothing compelling about this show.” And then eight hours later, we were unable to leave the apartment to get dinner because we were too wrapped up in it.

I just love the competition between the captains and imagining how lonely it must be for them as they sit up in the cabin away from the rest of the crew, watching their boats getting trapped in the Arctic ice and watching their deckhands risk their lives just so I can eat some crab. As someone who comes from a farming family, this is the kind of work I respect. I mean, just look at the opening credits. I don’t want you mistaking me for a prissy Bon Jovi fan or anything, but I can’t think of a better song to introduce these guys with. And look how serious they are!

Anyway, I got an e-mail from the Tropicana Casino & Resort in Atlantic City yesterday saying it’s going to have a party for this season’s premiere on April 13th with Russell Newberry from the Time Bandit and the Wizard hosting and signing autographs. There’s also going to be a NASCAR car there, which makes me think that perhaps I’m not the party’s target audience–although it isn’t like I don’t come from NASCAR country originally–but OMG, I have to go to this.

Guess Who’s Going to See a Taping of the Emeril Show

plumpdumpling — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 20:00:33 +0000

Me. Tomorrow.

I’m bringing my friend Beth, who hopes we have to take a shot every time he says “BAM”!

Does this Emeril appear freakishly young to anyone else?

I Would Chide You for Using Sports to Escape from Your Pathetic Life, but You Know I Do the Same Thing with Reality Television

plumpdumpling — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 15:30:57 +0000

I do not care about the Super Bowl. Aside from backyard basketball games involving the word horse, I think sports are pretty stupid. Especially professional ones.

I went to a Super Bowl party last night, though, and I went all the way to Jersey for it. And by “all the way”, I mean that I took a bus 15 minutes to my friend Jeff’s apartment, but I couldn’t use my MetroCard to pay the bus fare, so it seemed like a big deal. I did watch the game, unexpectedly, and I casually cheered for the Colts simply because Indianapolis is much closer to my hometown in Ohio than New Orleans is.

And also because I thought all of the pregame crap about how much a win would mean to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina–which happened five years ago, people–was unnecessarily sentimental and trying to make a story arc where one wasn’t needed. It’s a football game, and its outcome has nothing to rebuilding a city and everything to do with giving the kind of people who stand behind on-air newscasters and scream and show off their replica team jerseys an excuse to get drunk and light things on fire.

Anyway. I found the bidet in Jeff’s roommmate’s bathroom about a hundred times more interesting than most of the Super Bowl commercials, but there was one that really pulled at my heartstrings, and no, it wasn’t the Budweiser one with the Clydesdale and the cow. It was, oddly, a promo for the NFL itself, telling its fans how much better they are than are than NHL and MLS fans:

Funny what a little well-placed Arcade Fire song can do.

Why Yesterday was the Best

plumpdumpling — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 17:00:12 +0000

1) I spent the night with my best friend, Tracey, as I will do nine out of the thirteen days I’m in Ohio, and as she was dropping me off at my parents’ house yesterday morning, one local radio station played Soundgarden’s “Blow Up the Outside World”, and another played Grant Lee Buffalo’s “Truly, Truly” after it, and we affirmed our dedication to 90s music despite the overall concensus that it sucks.

2) While getting ready to go to my great-aunt’s house to decorate a gingerbread house with my cousins, I happened to turn on “Degrassi” to celebrate the fact that my parents have cable for the first time in my entire life, and it was the episode where J.T. gets stabbed! Which I had never seen before! It was meant to be.

3) I came home from my great-aunt’s house to find my dad, one of his friends, and my step-sister’s future husband using a wooden board in the backyard for target practice. I was surprised to find that I thought it was kind of cool.

4) My parents drove me two towns over to buy New Super Mario Bros. for Wii as my final Christmas gift, and the guy who checked us out at this tiny gaming store that probably sees ten customers a day told me, “Just so you know, this game is awesome.” I didn’t tell him that my co-workers Jeff and Steve stayed late at work with me every night the week before vacation so we could beat it on the office Wii before I left for Ohio.

5) My parents and I watched Julie & Julia, and then when they went to bed, I found an episode of “The Office” on. It was the one where Jim tells Pam he loves her at the office casino night and then kisses her. I am a sap and won’t apologize.

This Ain’t Yer Mama’s Cookin’ Show

plumpdumpling — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 18:24:30 +0000

My post on donuts4dinner.com today is too good not to share here.

It’s gross, funny, and sexy all at the same time. And I’m really surprised it made it onto TV.

Hatin’ on “More to Love”

plumpdumpling — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 14:31:15 +0000

“More to Love” is my favourite/most hated show on television right now. I was torn between it and “NYC Prep” on the first Tuesday night it aired, but after watching 20 fat women cry nonstop for an hour, I knew I made the right choice, and I’ve been making it every week since.

I’m not a person who believes weight has anything to do with love. I’m not thin, and I’ve loved and been loved in return by all sorts of men, thin and not-thin themselves. (But mostly thin, because fat people are gross. (Kidding.)) These big-boned ladies all truly believe, though, that their one shot at love is this 26-year-old spike-haired real estate developer who likes to eat and doesn’t want a woman who watches her weight.

And they all cry about it throughout every episode. Their skinny friends get hit on at bars. They’ve never had serious boyfriends. They’ve never been on a single date. And there’s a reason for that.

If you’re single–if you’re perpetually single–and you don’t want to be, there’s something wrong with you. There, I said it. Don’t blame it on men being superficial. Blame it on you being a crappy date. Unless you live in the middle of smalltown Iowa, in which case I’m a little more sympathetic, but seriously, it’s probably still your fault, especially if you’re one of those assholes who scorns Internet dating. Whenever I hear some fat chick say, “I have no idea why I’m alone!”, I want to go through a laundry list for her, because it’s always so obvious. Even the guys who are willing to look past your weight can’t deal with your jacked-up face, your total lack of humor, your junior high vocabulary, and your skank clothes.

For instance, not a single one of the women in the two episodes of “More to Love” I’ve watched has said something funny. In fact, when Luke asks each of them in turn if they’ll wear the ring that signifies their staying on the show another week, each of them in turn says, “Of course.” I’ve been waiting for even just one of them to say “bitch, please” or fake like they don’t want it only to throw their arms around him and snatch it out of his hands a second later, but they’re all so worried about losing their “one” chance for “true” love that all behave like robots. Whiny, sobbing robots.

My boyfriend called the show depressing, but I really delight in watching these pathetic women mope around. None of them are actually the least bit interested in this guy specifically, as far as I can tell, and are only interested in him being interested in them. And he’s too pleased with the opportunity to grope 20 fatties to care. I mean, MAYBE the producers are hiding the parts where Luke and the ladies have deep, meaningful conversation about politics and religion, but it seems like the most intimate information the group has about Luke is the name of his dog.

I had a long-distance relationship like this once: the guy would want to talk about how interested he was in the sinking of the Titanic every single time he called me–I mean, he really, really loved the Titanic–and I just wanted to talk about how in love we were. But I realized I was using him, whereas these girls are planning their weddings.

And the worst part is that they make absolutely none of this secret to him. They tell him that they’d pursue their music careers if only they had better images. They tell him that they’re virgins. They tell him, “You’re my first second date.” And he uses these confidings as teachable moments where he gets to build their self-confidence by calling them sexy and telling them to believe in themselves. And they cry.

It’s pretty clear that in the end, Luke’s going to pick the thinnest/prettiest girl in the house regardless of her personality, and all the other girls who were using his choosing her as sole proof that there’s hope for fat girls are going to kill themselves.

I finally asked my boyfriend why I’ve been able to find love when these women haven’t, and he said, “Because you’re not psychotic.” Win.

(Also check out Noel’s thoughts on the show.)

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The TV Understands Me: NYC Commercials That are Too True (3)
Thuh (8)
As If eHarmony Hasn’t Been Made Fun of Enough (14)
A Fruit by the Foot Commercial for the Ages (29)
Defining My Personal Style (11)
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It’s Not All Latch Hook Kitten Rugs (8)

It’s Me and My DVR Against the World

plumpdumpling — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 14:02:17 +0000

Kamran’s about to start his third year of law school, and I’m ten seconds from breaking up with his ass every weekday when I find myself alone at his apartment, eagerly awaiting his arrival instead of going out with my friends or spending time with my roommate, because I’m so pathetically in love with him. So after two years of begging him to get a DVR so I’ll have something to hold me between the hours of 6 p.m. and 9 p.m., he finally went and did it two weekends ago.

My best friend’s husband said, “Welcome to 2002!”, but I’m going to ignore the naysayers and maintain my amazement at how new and different life is when I don’t have to plan it around TV. It used to be that if I wanted to spend time at my own apartment, where there’s neither cable nor Internet because my roommate is such a cheapskate, godlovehim, I had to go on a night when there wasn’t anything on cable. And there’s always something on cable, you know? So I basically never spent any time at my own apartment.

But NOW . . . well, I’m still not going to spend any time at my apartment, but now it’s because there’s always something on the DVR. Of course, up until last night when we realized that only one episode of “Colbert” was being saved, I apparently didn’t know how to use the thing, but that’s not the point. I still have enough “Mad Men”, and Kamran enough “Sopranos” to last a lifetime. I would have probably never seen the last episode of “The Sopranos” without the DVR, actually. And now I realize why everyone was so up in arms about it.

And the pausing live TV! Kamran and I do laundry every Sunday night, and we always end up putting it off too long, so by the time we really have to do it or sleep on dirty sheets, we’re smackdab in the middle of some show we love and have to race down to the basement of his building to the laundry room during commercials. But two weekends ago, in the midst of the “Next Food Network Star” finale, we simply paused the show and carried the laundry down at our leisure.

Look! He’s paused!

It’s weird how the lack of commercials really changes TV-watching, though. There’s no painful anticipation of what’s to come now that segments are mere seconds apart, much like watching entire seasons of “Lost” in one sitting. And shows like “Project Runway” that feel the need to repeat whatever was said right before the commercial break when they return suddenly seem extra-ridiculous. However, I’m really pleased at how my fast-forwarding timing skills are progressing.

The one unexpected negative side effect is that now Kamran knows he can have my undivided attention when he comes home from work. It used to be that when he told me he was leaving the office at 6:30 but actually left at 7:45, I could shush him when he walked in the door due to the important nature of “The Real Housewives of New Jersey”. But now that he knows I can pause, he spends hours telling me whatever patent-related nonsense he feels like. Oh, the horror.

Unapologetically Mundane » a taste for tv

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