orange is the new blah

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save me, heroin!

Nicky is led from the building looking nervously from side to side with palpable dread.  We see from her perspective that she is reluctantly moving toward an idling van sitting ominously with open doors, waiting to swallow her whole.  Her demons have finally broken her, she always feared they would, and now she’ll be swept down the hill to the maximum security wing where the women are scarier and the showers are grosser and no one ever comes back.

We know she’s spunky and hilarious and heartbreakingly love-deprived, but all they’ll write in her file will be the part about the heroin, and the lying about the heroin, and the hiding of the heroin. Her clammy expression let’s us know she believes her mother’s accusation that she has an unquenchable thirst for self destruction, and she hates herself for always managing to screw everything up.  Her charming lies won’t help her now.  We can taste her fear as the van waits for the gate to lift so it can abandon both her and her storyline and get back to the super-interesting sorority girl bitch-banter and hate-sex between Alex and Piper.

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let’s make friendship bracelets!

“You shut up.”
“No, YOU shut up.”
“No, YOU shut up!”
“No, YOU SHUT UP!!”
Zero to oral in four seconds. Riveting. Oh, they’re doing it in the library this time? Orwellian.

Orange is the New Black, can I call you Orange?
Orange, you are so much better than that.

Your characters are plump and three dimensional, like a Buddha statue or a cheese wheel. Miss Rosa made robbing banks look so fun I wondered why I never tried it.  I want the guy Morello stalks to just stop complaining and admit she was right from the beginning, they were meant to be together, he was just being dramatic with the restraining order and whatnot.  I buy it, all of it. All the complexities, the interesting stories, the many uses for maxi pads,  I shouldn’t have to endure an eternity of Alex and Piper making out in-between mind games and slap fights, acting like it’s prom season.  It’s like getting a shiv in the eyeballs and the lady-parts at the same time.

I’d rather be with Nicky and Miss Claudette down the hill in max.

 

douchey gervais

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libido killer

Ricky Gervais is the biggest douche since K-Fed and I love every doughy inch of him for it. The  goatee’d pale face and muscle-free physique of David Brent is terrible perfection, social discomfort at it’s cringy, butt-clenchingly best. Even now that Ricky Gervais has been Hollywooded down to a lean cutlet you can still see the chubby, smug, insecure Brent just beneath the surface, which is probably why he is positively un-f*ckable.

This seems tragic that his own genius should neuter him so cruelly, and also that it puts him in the position of having to openly acknowledge it.  As the romantic lead in the The Invention of Lying the plot hinged on the idea that he was so physically repugnant Jennifer Garner had to keep averting her eyes in horror. But when, despite all reason, he finally gets the girl – fulfilling the destiny of every romcom ever made – the camera artfully pans away at a moment that should be filled with close-up tongue wrestling and a sex scene shot via vulva cam.   It’s as if he understands, correctly, that it would be traumatizing for the audience to watch David Brent suck the Affleck out of Jennifer Garner, and politely takes it off the table.

 

you make my ovaries deflate

 

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sexless and fabulous

Ricky,  don’t stop fusing Flashdance with MC Hammer shit.  Don’t resist the urge to confess your relief to an obese woman that she is not your blind date for the evening.  And never stop creating hilarious a-hole characters that no one would screw under any circumstances. Comedy needs you and so do we.