The title is a quote from a former professor of mine in defense of his non-love of particular television shows. I thought it was very apropos of our favorite Thursday night activity, watching "The Office". Ever since I started watching that particular show, and others such as "Arrested Development" and "Scrubs" (I'm going to say it...possibly I have said it before...these shows are as the "triumvirate of awesome" unto me), I have appreciated the fact that I am intelligent enough to know whether something is funny or not. Laugh tracks have become grating and amateur, and seem to lend a mawkish air to the shows that are permeated by them. I have seen shows which I thought were wonderful ruined by all of the maniacal background mirth. Take "Sports Night", for instance. This is one of my very favorite shows. It was written by Aaron Sorkin (pre-dates The West Wing) and its quick humour, intelligent references, and Scrubs-like emotional blind-side punches make my heart happy. Not to mention Felicity Huffman, Peter Krause, Josh Charles, and even for a few episodes, the delightful William H. Macy!! It aired in about 1996, but only lasted for two seasons. I honestly think the reason for its short-lived run is that it really was ahead of its time with its intelligence and inability to be pegged into either comedy or drama. Unfortunately it has a laugh track, and so it feels unbearably forced when the actors are comedic. It is only when the show slips, or careens head-first, into its more dramatic moments, that it begins to feel natural. Don't mistake me, I love this show, but the laugh-track makes me ever so uncomfortable, and also wishful for the ability to prompt myself when to laugh.
Another Friday is upon us, and I could feel the celebratory mood in the air which was radiating from Denise. Thanks to her for spreading the weekend-is-almost-upon-us love!!
O.k., my heart is still racing from what just happened to me in between these paragraphs. I went down to put my laundry into the dryer (Ah, how I love our basement!!), came back up and shut the door. I then saw a movement by the fridge, thought it was a giant rat, let out a kind of squeak, and was only marginally relieved to realize it was the cat from downstairs, who had slipped unnoticed into our kitchen. I let it back downstairs, but he/she seemed hesitant to go. Well, who can blame the guy/gal? If I had to live with the constant screaming, bacon-cooking, dog/girl-friend abusing, Sunday morning sex-romps, swearing, smoking (the list does go on), I would try to escape as well. Maybe I'll kidnap the cat when we move, and call him/her a suitably gender non-specific name such as "Mittens" or "Billi Jo". I'll just run it by Denise first.
A thank-you to Braden for quitting Chapters and leaving me with a Friday night closing cash shift. I will be thinking of him fondly while I am working late this evening. Really, I will.
A big congratulations to Eric for the mission call to the Dominican Republic!! You will be an amazing missionary, and one can only hope there are lots of letters featuring digestion and dysentery.
A shout-out to my Dad who is alone this weekend. Wonder what project he will embark upon this time?...
An apology to Denise for stealing some of her blog components. Imitation is the sincerest from of flattery...
Keep dreaming. Keep laughing. And, for the love of Pete, Go to church.
2 comments:
I love the weekends, but more than that, I think I love the pre-weekend excitement. Knowing that a chance to sleep in is just a mere 5 ½ working hours away has me almost jumping up and down in my office. (I am a classy person; I wouldn’t really jump up and down in my office, some of us have to be professional around here.)
Shut up! We are totally getting a cat and calling it Mittens! That is the most fantastic suggestion I have heard today!
Personally, I have every intention on going to church on Sunday.
Well, you are a good God-fearing girl who loves to dress up...I mean worship at church.
Can our cat be a kitten?
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