The Television Gods Frowned

I stay up too late. There's something that makes me feel so cozy and happy when I watch TV all curled up in my comforter. Unfortunately I don't get around to starting my TV sessions until at least eleven, so I rarely go to sleep before midnight. Okay, one.

Anyhow, our DVR is in the living room, so my late night sessions are not about catching up on Friday Night Lights, Ugly Betty or even The Daily Show. I also can't watch Law and Order reruns or anything with a plot that might keep me up later than usual. My favorite late nights are when I can flip between Countdown with Keith Olberman (liberal politics on MSNBC) and The Girls Next Door (Hugh Hefner's girlfriends on E!). I don't know how many people watch both shows, but I recommend them to everyone.

Last night, however, neither show was on. Nor was Deadliest Catch, Anthony Bourdain, Moving Up, The Real Deal or Secret Lives of Women. But as I was desperately flipping I caught the opening credits of Style By Jury and I paused. The show focused on a mom in her mid-thirties who looked exactly like Courtney Love after a mid-nineties heroin binge, except sluttier. After hearing nasty comments strangers made about her appearance (the Jury) she agreed to a makeover, including one session with a therapist, wardrobe, hair, makeup and cosmetic dentistry. Then new strangers made positive comments about her new look.

The way everyone behaved on the show made me think of Spanish telenovelas. Which would be fine, except that this show purports to be filled with real people, not badly written stock characters. And the woman I saw needed more than a makeover, she needed many sessions of therapy. Courtney Love doesn't even look like Courtney Love anymore. I'm all for people updating their looks (in fact, I REALLY want to be nominated for What Not To Wear, hint, hint) but the looks on this show were so far beyond bad fashion sense I couldn't believe they were real. On the next show (which I didn't watch the end of), an adult woman cheerfully entered the studio wearing two ponytails and a matching red plaid vest/shorts set. She blamed it on being from Mississippi, but I've been to MS and I didn't see anything that bad. Not even at Wal-Mart at midnight. So either this show is a fake or Canadians (it's filmed in Toronto) don't recognize cries for help when they see them.

So now I am depressed. My cozy late night television viewing has been mocked by the programmers that be. It's a good thing I also found The Big Gay Sketch Show.