TV Junkie

Why You Need to Watch Santa Clarita Diet

Wayyyy back in the day, this blog was called Go Guilty Pleasures! Yes, with an exclamation point, because I make it my mission to tell you how you feel about what you’re reading. Back then I waxed poetic about Darren Criss and Justin Timberlake, but eventually I evolved to more mature matters, like eating dog kibble.

Well, old habits die hard, and I’m here to tell you how you should feel about Santa Clarita Diet, the morbid, quirky, irresistible Netflix show starring Drew Barrymore and that guy from Girl Next Door. (…Anyone?) They’re back for season two and I just about puked from excitement.

anta-clarita-diet-puking-drew-barrymore
If you can get past the puke in episode one, I promise it’s worth it! Photo credit.

This show is filling the Buffy-sized hole in my heart. It is utterly absurd, and yet entirely lovable, with characters who make the most implausible seem as commonplace as eating an entire box of Wheat Thins in one sitting. (…Anyone?) Take, for instance, this dialogue from the beginning of season 2, episode 1:

~*~*~*~*~

INT. MENTAL HOSPITAL – DAY

JOEL (male lead a.k.a. Drew Barrymore’s husband) is inside a mental hospital. He shares a room with CRAZY HOSPITAL PATIENT and decides to come clean about his wife.

JOEL: She’s undead.

CRAZY HOSPITAL PATIENT: Really? How is that going?

JOEL: Honestly? Mixed. She has an intensity I love, but having to find human flesh for her to eat? That’s been hard.

CRAZY HOSPITAL PATIENT: I can’t imagine.

JOEL: We’re realtors, so, killing people and stuffing them in the freezer doesn’t come naturally.

~*~*~*~*~

If you’re reading that cold, I’ve probably convinced you to never watch this show. But guess what? THAT’S EXACTLY WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH THIS SHOW. They make that work.

Chyeah. I know. Catch you on the flip undead side, Chipmunks!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TV Junkie, Uncategorized

The Girls Next Door versus…The Girl Next Door?

Photo credit: nydailynews.com

I’m watching “Hef’s Runaway Bride” on Lifetime.

Because why, you ask?

Because I love this stuff! I’m obsessed with the Playboy mansion. I’ve seen every episode of “The Girls Next Door” at least once. It’s strange though, you see, because I’m the real girl next door. The giggly, innocent one who’s made so many fashion mistakes Anna Wintour would stroke out, and had so many embarrassing moments it’s a wonder MTV never got ahold of me for a primetime show. But also the one who’s occasionally stepped outside of her shell long enough to sober-sing karaoke (“Walkaway Joe” by Trisha Yearwood, in case you were wondering) and make the first move on the boy she was (is!) in love with.

The Hef. Photo credit: muinvestmentclub.com

So what is it about The Hef and his bevy of beautiful bombshells that draws me in? Is it just because I’m fascinated with the Grand Canyon-sized gap between my life and this one? Probably. And also because I love men that love women. Hugh Hefner loves women. I mean, really loves them. He’s smart, funny, charming and successful and does it all without being smarmy. My favorite kind of man. He pulls it off like only the great ones can!

Luckily for me, I’ve got one of the great ones, and I can sit back and enjoy these shows for the entertainment that they are.

What do you think of Hugh and the Playboy mansion? Does it gross you out? And if it does, do you still watch?

How ’bout Trisha Yearwood (I love her too, by the way)? Any good karaoke stories??