Lifetime Movie Classics: The Betty Broderick Oeuvre, Part One

When I was a kid, I spent a good deal of the time that I was at my dad's house playing with this old doll house, long forgotten by my older stepsisters. I had a doll house at my mom's house that was much bigger, but I had a special love in my heart for the other, older one. Why? It was decked out in all the "wonderful" styles of the late 70's and early 80's. There was a padded rust colored couch, a mustard colored kitchen with lots of wood paneling, a tiny, wood paneled stereo, complete with turn table. The doll house was a perfect vestige of the day, beautiful in a dated, almost sad way.

Thinking of that doll house now tells me what Betty Broderick's life was probably like before her life was completely turned upside down, a victim of her husband's betrayal and her own batshit craziness. The first Lifetime movie about her and her crime does a pretty damn good job of showing us that. Probably better than any other Lifetime movie out there (except for maybe The Two Mr. Kissels, which as you know, I'm particularly partial to), this movie shows us, rather than just hitting us over the head with, the world that these characters live in.

Really, A Woman Scorned: The Betty Broderick Story is a freaking master of the TV movie genre. Here's the story if you are so sad and deprived and dedicated to quality programming that you don't know it by heart already: Boy meets girl. Girl marries boy and stays with him through med school, then law school, then four kids, then overwhelming prosperity. Boy meets younger girl at law office and becomes a cliche in an expensive suit. Girl goes completely Ozzie Osbourne style CRAY-CRAY. Boy gets a few restraining orders and a divorce. Girl hits boy's house with her car. Girl shoots boy and younger girl and as boy is laying in the floor, dying, pulls the phone out of the wall so he can't call for help. LIKE A BOSS.

Matt watched a snippet of this movie with me and had an interesting point about it. If you look just a tad farther than Meredith Baxter's insanely good acting, you have a weird thing going on here. Namely, you are being asked, in fact, the movie is DEMANDING, that you sympathize with the cheating husband, the 40-something lawyer who shacked up his 20-something "legal assistant," who, as Debra Jo Rupp tells us, can't type a damn thing, and, further, that you demonize his strong willed wife. SURELY YOU JEST, LIFETIME. As we all know, Lifetime has made a mint demonizing the Dan Brodericks of the world, those men who shuck the women who have supported them through thick and thin right at the moment when things are starting to sag. And why wouldn't this be a profitable way to go for the network? Their target demographic lies in the saggy, the married, the Ben and Jerry's eaters of the world. Those 20 something legal assistants are all off presumably riding jet-ski's and giving blow jobs, not watching movies about women who had their face eaten off by dogs and then, inspirationally, made much better. But, crazily, here we all are, quietly cheering for the relationship between these two quirky kids in their big house and wagging a weary finger at the woman who leaves them dirty voice mails. Way to go, Lifetime. You just BLEW MY MIND. As Matt pointed out, Meredith Baxter might as well wear a goatee in this movie because it is BIZARRO WORLD.

Perhaps this is part of the charm of this movie. Perhaps that is why it is so damn good. But perhaps it is also because of these little moments, little nuggets of awesome that stand out. For instance, there is one moment when Betty is just doing her damn best to drive her huge, hulking SUV type thing into Dan's living room. She does it with this calm swagger, which in itself is badass and just more indication of how much Meredith Baxter truly rocked this role. But the best part is what is going on inside the house. The kids are all scattered about, trying to figure out what the ruckus is all about, which is well, what you'd be doing if someone decided to go all Wal-Mart parking lot on your front door. And one of the kids is standing on the staircase, and he just goes, "Dad, IT'S MOM." The kid really rocks this line. There is this worry in his voice, and as soon as he says it, this pang just hit me, and I knew that no matter what else I do as a parent, I don't want my son to ever say that about me. Which brings my list of parenting goals to two: 1) Keep the kids from becoming serial killers and 2) Don't let my kids ever see me doing something so egregious that they get that tremor in their voice. It's good to set the bar low when it comes to parenting, you know?

The other line that comes to mind is actually not too far into the movie. Dan and Betty are at a party, but it is not really remarkable because they are always at a damn party. Supposedly, Dan is working these 80 hour work weeks, and you know, he's a partner at a law firm, so that's plausible, but they sure do find time to party. I refuse to believe that this is a realistic portrayal--I think Lifetime just wanted to have more time to show a dude in a cape and top hat. SEXY. Anyway, Dan surprises a partner, as well as the partner's wife and Betty, with a Paris vacation on the following Thursday. This is when I paused the movie and told Matt that if he wanted to surprise me with tickets to Paris, even if they were to Paris, Texas, I wouldn't have a problem with that, and when Matt chuckled and I swore to invent that divorce app I've been thinking about. Betty sure as Hell has a problem with this spontaneous showing of wealth and affection. She whines, "But Dan...that's my manicure day!" And, that my friends, is how a patented response gets started in this house. Matt said something to me about going to a cook-out tomorrow night, and of course, I had to say, "BUT MATT....that's my manicure day!" And of course he had to say, "It's YOUR MOM'S manicure day." And, of course, I had to guffaw loudly and think about all witty and awesome I am. And, of course, you had to roll your eyes and promise to never visit this seedy area of the internet ever again.

Ladies, do yourself a favor and buy a good volume of alcohol (if that is your thing), a good cheese and some crackers and watch this shit. You won't regret it. When you get done, you'll not only be just a tad scared that Betty Broderick will get paroled, but you'll also be delightfully frightened that Meredith Baxter, who just enjoyed herself to the MAX in this role, will show up in her SUV at your front door, call you a bunch of dirty names and spray paint on your walls.

I Watched It So You Don't Have To: War of the Amy Fisher's

This past weekend, I was a slug. The two older kids went to stay with some of Matt's cousins for the weekend, so I was left to my own devices with just Matt and Al. We planned picturesque hikes and trips out for our little party of three. However, it rained all weekend. And I found myself pretty tired. And well, Lifetime Movie Network was running a "Tainted Love" weekend movie marathon, so well, you know. The story writes itself.

Alice happened to take her Saturday nap while Casualties of Love: The Long Island Lolita Story was having its run. I have never actually seen any of these Amy Fisher tell all movies (of which there are three, all made in 1993), so I settled into the couch with the August Real Simple, my leopard print Snuggie and some WW-friendly smores that I make in my oven. This, my friends, is what I imagine heaven will be like--just me, a silent house, a magazine and something cheesy on the tube. I really hope all that fornication doesn't keep me from experiencing it.

The movie was truly, truly horrible, which of course, means that I enjoyed the absolute hell out of it. Seriously, if I could watch that movie again, you know I would. With that in mind, I decided to see if I could find the Drew Barrymore version (CoL stars Alyssa Milano). Sure enough, some kind soul had uploaded that on YouTube. You don't have to know me that well to know what I did next. BUT! I did it for science, for posterity, for YOU, my litte sachertorte. Yes, I pitted Alyssa Milano and Drew Barrymore against each other in the ultimate Amy Fisher challenge so that you would know which one is superior and thus, is deserving of your rainy-Saturday afternoon moments. You're welcome in advance.

(And yes, I understand there is a third Amy Fisher movie starring the lesser loved Noelle Parker. But a girl can only take so many tired Long Island accents before she is committed, so I didn't watch that one. Sorry, folks. Maybe another day. And besides, Noelle kind of crashes this awesome Drew/Alyssa thing I have going on in my head, which probably gives me something in common with any dude who was masturbating in the early 90's.)

I have broken the movies into several important facets to make all this simpler. But before we start, here's a quick breakdown on each movie:

Casualties of Love (heretofore known as CoL): The Buttafuocco's version of events (and no, I'm not spelling that correctly. I refuse to google. They will heretofore be known as Mr. and Mrs. Zubaz for reasons that will become apparent later). This movie is so factually incorrect that it is laughable. In this one, Mr. Zubaz is the victim. Not because his wife got shot, mind you, but because he is an upstanding business man/family guy who some slut is fixated on. Basically, Mr. Zubaz gets addicted to the nose candy, goes to rehab, and comes back as Ward Fucking Cleaver in a mesh t-shirt. He loves his wife. You know how I know that? Because they have sex in the shower. In Lifetime world, pure, unadulterated marital love is shown in two ways: 1) children and 2) spontaneous shower sex. Alyssa Milano is the "Aimee" in CoL, so misspelled to avoid lawsuits, I assume.

The Amy Fisher Story (heretofore known as AFS): This one is no one's version of events and is pieced together from accounts from other people, not the actual parties involved. Boo-urns! And it is told in that weird, choppy flashbacky way that you see in a lot of Lifetime movies which usually means that there is some big old fat plotholes lurking around and you best not try to put it together too neatly. The story is the basic girl-gone-wrong diatribe. Amy is a wild, petulant brat whose parents indulge her every whim. I'll tell you this: I wanted to punch her through a good 2/3 of this movie. Like really punch her. She has a lot of sex with Mr. Zubaz, and some of it is pretty kinky (detailed below). There is a reporter running around through most of the movie trying to give the movie some kind of moral center about the villification of a sexualized girl, and really, all her points are valid, but you want to punch her too because she kind of makes the movie drag a bit. I don't want "feminism" and "morality" in my Lifetime movies. FUCK THAT NOISE! Give me another faked orgasm and a mom wringing her hands! That's more like it! Drew Barrymore is the Amy in this version. Slutty 90's Drew. That's a whole other bit of awesomeness right there, amirite?

The Fisher Parents: Both movies deal with Amy's parents in different ways. AFS gives them more of a spotlight in its showing, paying close attention to the mother's total denial that Amy is nothing but a slightly flawed princess. The dad, however, gets major points from me because he wears these huge 80's style glasses for much of the movie. They are truly amazing. Also, one of the better scenes in AFS is a domestic scene with the parents where Amy makes lasagna for them. Mom goes (and yes, I'm paraphrasing), "Amy, how much cheese did you put in this? Your dad has to watch it for his cholestrol." And Amy goes, "Uh, about 2 pounds." 2 POUNDS! That's when I knew she was a vile seductress. 2 POUNDS OF CHEESE. In the inimitable words of Urkel, HAVE MERCY. However, CoL takes this category on the stength of just one well played line. The parents are really played down, but there is a really priceless scene of Amy and her parents. She has just told them that she has herpes. And the dad goes (and this is a direct quote): "Amy, you said Joey gave you THE HERPES." Ladies and gentlemen, not only is that the best quote of this movie, it might be the best quote in a Lifetime movie ever. Advantage: Milano.

Wardrobe: Unfortunately, AFS really falls apart in the wardrobe department. Drew looks pretty staid in a lot of this movie, rocking some knee length skirts and a couple of tunics. WTF? A word to all you costumers out there: this is not how slutty girls in the 90's dressed. I mean, I didn't try to knock off anyone and my Blow Jobs Given to People Wearing Zubaz Pants tally was stationed solidly at 0, and I didn't dress that frumpy. However, just where AFS lacked, CoL really picked up the pace. I present to you, Exhibit One:I'm pretty sure that when Alyssa Milano finished filming this movie, she had one hell of a yeast infection. Her pants were that tight throughout the whole movie. She also wore some dynamite cropped shirts, double belts, some thigh high boots--HELL YES this is how a slutty 90's girl would dress! There was one scene in the autobody shop where she's wearing this skin tight gray cotton leggings and a tied up shirt. Matt, who was playing Civ World on the computer, turned around and said, "God bless Barry Zito," making reference to one of the many baseball players Ms. Milano used to boff. And I had to agree with him. That ass was PADOW, ya'll. I would totally shoot someone in the face for it. Advantage: Milano.

Overall Look: However, we have to remember that Amy Fisher did not look like Alyssa Milano, bless her heart. AFS does a much better job of giving us a more truthful look of Amy. I spent a good portion of the movie wanting to hold Drew down and straighten her hair because she is sporting some serious frizz in this movie. And I have to say, I loved that she had some kind of brown drawn on late 90's J. Lo eyebrows going on. And brown lipliner! HELLS YEAH. AFS kept it real with Joey too, having him spending a good amount of time wearing zubaz pants and skin tight polo's, which I think we all know is how Mr. Zubaz was hanging IRL. CoL really went for more flash on both accounts, with Mr. Zubaz even having to stand up for his flashy look to his dad. There were a lot of gold chains, some ill-advised mesh, the whole kit and kaboodle. What is funny is this is Mr. and Mrs. Zubaz's own account. So you know they were loving all that nasty stuff. Which is pretty icky, just as well, you know, banging someone underage. But for reality's sake, let's say Advantage : Barrymore.

Sexy Times: This is kind of a moot category, because CoL does not contain any Amy on Joey sex because in this alternate view of reality, Mr. Zubaz did not have sex with that woman! (Despite the fact that he would end up confessing to it.) There is that shower scene between Mr. and Mrs. Zubaz but ick. No. I refuse to comment. AFS, however, picks up the slack like mad. In fact, I read that this scene was labeled "too hot for tv"--it was in my YouTube version, but apparently edited out of the original. And it is easy to see why: there is full on boob suckage and you can see Ms. Barrymore's ass at one time. The fact that it is happening in Amy's bedroom with full on ballerina posters and shit like that hanging around is kind of a lady boner killer though. But, you know, if you are thinking of this in the more academic type way, I guess that the sex scene is good because it shows the complete and total wrongness of the whole Amy/Mr. Zubaz thing. Not me though. I'm there for the pornishness. And I have to give credit where credit is due--Ms. Barrymore does a pretty dynamic job in the scene directly before this one; her flirtations are pretty spot on, and she acts the hell out of it, playing the teenage nympho role to a tee. And well, this gets major points because I'm pretty sure it is the only sex scene ever committed to celluloid that features one of the participants having to take off his zubaz pants. Let's hope it is anyway. Advantage: Barrymore.

Overall (Tiebreaker): This is a toughie to explain because it really gets at the core of why anyone would watch a Lifetime movie. ASF is definitely the better movie--it features a more double sided view of the events, and is more factually based. There is that moral sense about the whole thing, a kind of commentary on women's sexuality and the hungry public's clamoring for it. HOWEVER. It is boring. I clicked around while I was watching it. Reading Facebook comments about soccer games suddenly became a lot more interesting, even though I hate soccer and about 85% of the time, Facebook. CoL, on the other hand, is the Disney Land version of the Amy Fisher story. It is so out of left field and just so Lifetime-y (Crazy sexual tart in fatal attraction with married man! Beautiful wife assaulted! Excuse me while I clutch my pearls!) that it is much more entertaining. Yes, it is truly a horrible movie. But, you know me. Advantage: Milano.

I can only hope that someday, there are three Casey Anthony movies out there for me to watch and pontificate about. Because you know, somewhere, Jennifer Love Hewitt is wearing a pink tuxedo shirt, practicing her dead eyed glare and just waiting on her phone to ring.

Things that Suck: You Belong to Me

On Thursday, Matt and I took the kids to the Knoxville Zoo and to Pigeon Forge, TN for a little trip. We decided to only stay a couple of days so that we didn't have to worry about kenneling the dog (we had family members stop in to feed and take him out) and so we could enjoy a little time at home before trooping back to the salt mines today. And that was a good idea. Because any time we do any kind of trip, we do it HARDCORE. Like EXTREME vacationing. No laying back to relax! We do as much as possible for as long as possible, which means that we all end up bone-tired when we return. But it is a happy tired, an accomplished, holy-shit-that-was-fun tired.

This is why Saturday evening found me laying on my bed, watching Lifetime. We had just returned, and of course, I unloaded all of our outlet shopping purchases, and then, fell in a big heap with Alice. I was pretty happy with just watching whatever came on. And at first, I was just glad that it wasn't that crappy Army Wives shit or that Drop Dead Diva show which offends me to my core that they can't just make a show about a confident, happy plus-sized brunette chick. NO! She has to have been a blonde knockout in another life, thus making her fun and awesome! Everyone knows chubby brunette chicks are just miserable and wear only muumuus and cry tears that taste like vanilla bean frappuccinos! VOMIT.

But then I watched You Belong to Me, which just may be the absolute worst Lifetime Movie ever made (disregarding, of course, that schlocky shit they show at Christmas that I do not have the intestinal fortitude to even attempt watching). It stars Shannon Elizabeth (yup) and is a Lifetime "horror" "movie".

And that's not even the worst part. Basically, I think this movie was made because some dude somewhere had a horrible experience with an ex-girlfriend who was an English major. And since I was an English major, this offends me. And it made my head hurt.

Here's a synopsis of the movie: Basically, girl meets boy at work. Boy becomes obsessed with girl. Boy is a generally creepy English major. Boy stalks girl. Boy falls off of cliff. Girl's house becomes haunted. A vase is thrown by a ghostly scepter with horrible, horrible aim and girl realizes that boy wants her to join him in the afterlife. Girl finds boy's grandmother and finds out that she is a dead-ringer (har har) for boy's dead mother. PAGING DR. FREUD! WE'VE GOT OEDIPUS ON LINE ONE! Girl fights boy's ghost for her soul and that of her son. The end.

Sounds horrible, huh? Now imagine it with Shannon Elizabeth doing the "acting". Are you vomiting yet? No offense to Ms. Elizabeth, but holy crap. If there is any justice in the world, she and her majestic rack are working in a nondescript office job right now, somewhere where she can't hurt us any longer.

So the English major thing: yes, the creepy guy/antagonist (BIG ENGLISH MAJOR WORD, YA'LL) admits to being an English major. And I'm like, "Well, ok, yeah, we have some creepers among our ilk." People who like to spend their time writing and reading obscure things are generally not the most sane people you know, amirite? So I'm willing to cop to that. But this guy...whew. He spends about 9/10 of the movie trying to quote various Brownings. I kind of expect him to jump out of a closet and yell, "I AM AN ENGLISH MAJOR GODDAMMIT. AND SINCE THE ECONOMY SUCKS SO HARD, I AM LEGALLY OBLIGATED TO QUOTE THE ONE GODDAMN POEM I KNOW AT LEAST FOUR TIMES A DAY. BECAUSE I MAJORED IN ENGLISH. AND I DID IT SO FUCKING HARD." In fact, it would have helped the movie along if he had done that and probably shaved about 15 minutes we have of mindless Browning-rambling. And here's my picky English major point that pissed me off more than anything--he kind of skips around between Robert and Elizabeth Barret Browning. LIKE THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON. My lord, Lifetime. If you're going to feature someone being a complete English major douche, at least do it right! A real English major would point out the differences between the two, and would probably give you some really quippy point that would make you secretly hate that person a little and ultimately, remove them from your Christmas card list.

As if all that isn't bad enough, this movie had another major detractor. And that is some of the most horrible, cringe-inducing Lifetime movie sex I've ever seen. Now I'll tell you, no Lifetime sex is good sex. And if I had a quarter for every orgasm I'd seen faked in a Lifetime movie, I'd have enough money to be able to watch my trashy movies on a brand new 3-D tv. But this stuff is so cringe inducing that it made me squirm a bit. Ms. Elizabeth does have some gorgeous breasts--I'll give her that. And they looked lovely in her lacy little bra she wore in BOTH of the sexy instances. But the rest of it was just BLECH. The first time was especially wretched. Basically, Girl is talking to her lawyer boyfriend (we'll call him Boy II), who is completely non-threatening in a Lifetime movie man kind of way. And he's talking about how much he loves kids. And then they just start making out. Ok, ick. Maybe it is just me, but I don't find talking about my children to be an aphrodisiac. Usually, I am the most erm, excited, when I have not even thought of my kids in a good while. But I guess Lifetime feels that the only way ladies can get in the mood is if they are a) trying to have a baby or b) have found a man who just loves talking about the kiddos. Part of that pisses me off, and the other part just squicks me out. Blech.

So, in the whole scheme of things, with one being Christmas Lifetime schlock, and five being The Two Mr. Kissels, this movie rates about a 1.5. And it only gets the .5 because of this awesome line of dialogue (and note that I'm approximating here--I watched this on Saturday):

Boy II: If this ghost is so powerful, and he really wants to kill you, why hasn't he?
Girl: I DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU!

What's funny here? Well, I feel like with this line, the good folks at Lifetime are acknowledging they've made a really shitty movie with a big old fat plot hole. And you know what they're saying? They're saying, "Well fuck you too! We don't have to explain anything to you. We'll make you EMBRACE that plot hole, you randy housewife!"

So, bad as it may be, this movie has some balls. Albeit tiny, sad little balls, but balls none the less. Watch if you dare.

Lifetime Movieness: A Crime of Passion

Menstrual cycles are not something that I talk about a whole lot. Well, ok, none. Ladies at my work--well, that's a different story. They will tell you just about anything that you could ever even conceive of asking about their monthly friends, no matter how gross or strange or odd. And of course, I just stand in the corner of the office bathroom, like the kid at camp whose boobs haven't come in yet, and hope that they do not notice that I'm not contributing to the conversation at all.

However, I will tell you that every month or so, I become the biggest stereotypical girly girl that has ever been spawned. Not that I'm some big genderless blob the rest of the time (I think you know that since I spend a good deal of time being all OMG LIPGLOSS!), but during this short time period (usually 1-2 days), I'm a big oozing well of estrogen. Got a romantic comedy starring Katherine Heigl you've been dying to see? LET'S GO. I will not make one snarky comment, and we can do an over/under on whether I will cry or not. Want to eat an entire Vermonster and talk about how fat we are? AWESOME. I've got my lucky spoon! Want to sit on the couch and watch an entire season of Grey's Anatomy/Sex and the City? SURE. Yeah, I've watched about two of each of those shows in my life, and yes, my eyes hurt from all the rolling, but on that day, I will do it, and once again, I'll probably cry. Or hulk smash something. But that's just the estrogen talking!

This happened to me last night. I found myself footloose and fancy free at 8:00, as Alice had passed out because she didn't take a nap earlier in the day, Sam and Matt were playing a rather animated game of Risk, and Gabby was in her room plotting sixth grade domination. And I'm sitting on the couch, thinking about how much I would enjoy a plate of brownies topped with a full pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and wearing a leopard print snuggie and a pair of cropped yoga pants from Old Navy. I'm getting ready to turn on the Cardinals/Giants game when I think, "You know, I would much rather watch this Lifetime movie on LMN called 'A Crime of Passion' starring none other than Tracey Gold." And so that's what I did.

Now, I may have seen bits and pieces of A Crime of Passion before, or it could be because A Crime of Passion is a big ole stereotype of a Lifetime movie in itself. Basically, here's the plot: Widowed doctor meets stripper with a heart of gold (heretofore known as SWAHOG). Widowed doctor's daughter, a failing pre-med student (Tracey Gold) does not approve. Widowed doctor marries SWAHOG in Vegas. Widowed doctor realizes strippers do not automatically turn into Lil' Suzy Housewife the moment someone puts a ring on their (dirty) fingers. Widowed doctor asks for a divorce. Widowed doctor is murdered whilst clutching his coin collection. Daughter (Tracey Gold) is suspected of his murder. BUT YOU KNOW IT WAS THE STRIPPER! My lord in heaven, ya'll! SHE WAS A STRIPPER! Being a stripper at any time in one's life means that your hobbies will always be having abortions, getting your nails done, and KILLING DOCTORS. No matter what element your heart is made of.

Now, the plot is pretty stupid, I'll give you that. But there are a couple of things that make this movie totally fucking awesome. First is this: let's imagine for a bit that you are a 50 year old man. A red-blooded American 50 year old man, not some foppish dandy who spends his time following Kate Middleton's sartorial choices and eating vegetables. You're laying in your big old four poster bed, reading at night. And your new bride, who worked a pole for 10 years, so you know, has some moves, comes out in the black meshy thing and starts gyrating on a bed pole. Something tells me you'd put down the book and enjoy the show for a bit and probably do some things that are illegal in the state of VA. You know? I mean, you're the guy that married the STRIPPER. Might as well reap the benefits of that choice. But not this guy. He sits there and has the AUDACITY to look exasperated. Like, "WTF, YO? You're the woman I married, not someone who I want to have sex with?!?! Now go put in a casserole, darn my socks and make yourself useful."

That's when I knew that when he died, I wouldn't be a bit sad.

And he does. SWAHOG is (rightfully) embarassed by the whole ignoring the sexy dance event, and runs back off to the strip club where she erases her sorrow by making out in the parking lot with her golf instructor. IT'S ALWAYS THE GOLF INSTRUCTOR, AMIRITE? And OF COURSE one of Mr. This-Book-of-Tax-Codes-is-Way-More-Interesting-Than-Blow-Jobs's country club crones just happens to be driving by at that moment (probably because he got lost on the way back from the Stereotypical Old White Man Emporium) and reports her, so SWAHOG is given the boot. Thus the whole shit tornado that eventually ends in murder is birthed.

And all he would have had to do to avoid this is to watch his sexy wife do a striptease. THE HORROR.

The other awesomely awesome thing about this movie is the fashion. Holy high waisted jeans, Batman!!! But more importantly, rather, the way fashion is used to show that whole Madonna/Whore dichotomy that we women, try as we might, can never fully extricate ourselves from. Tracey Gold is a 1st year med student in the movie, and her wardrobe consists of marled sweaters, sensible shoes, and these godawful highwaisted, wide leg, stonewashed jeans that I'm pretty sure were marketed only to fathers as the poor man's chastity belt. Holy lord. They were horrible. And Tracey is a perfectly lovely girl--there was no need for that. By the same token, SWAHOG is given a wardrobe, and I'm pretty sure the wardrobe person took one look at it and goes, "Well, she's a stripper, so let's uh...just cut about 2 inches off of every hem! For authenticity!!!" As she continues down her path of destruction, it just gets worse and worse. By the end of the movie, she's basically just wearing a corset with a lacy bra sticking out of the top in every scene. Going to the DMV? I used to be a stripper, ya'll!!! Funeral? BOOBS AHOY. Career day? Did you forget what I used to do for a living? Here's a nipple to remind you.

So on the scale of Lifetime movies, 1 being those horrible inspirational schlock fests they show at Christmas and always feature a sad-eyed child with dirt on its face, and 5 being The Two Mr. Kissels, this is a solid 3.5 or 4. Watch and be amazed the next time your estrogen is soaring.

Oh, Hoarders....

My mother in law is sick, which means that I am at home with the kiddos today. I found out that I would be unable to go to work last night, so I made the appropriate phone calls and emails, and then decided to sleep in this morning. I figured, if I have to take a day off (which I didn't really want to do), I might as well make the best of it and relax a bit. Which is a good thing, given that I think I may be coming down with a cold too (although nothing compared to what my mother in law has--ick).

So I slept until the ripe old hour of 8, and then got up, checked my work email and made myself some breakfast. I settled into the couch with a beautiful bowl of raspberries that I had picked myself and then had frozen during the summer months, topped with two dollops of snowy, creamy homemade yogurt and a drizzle of local honey. I pulled a blanket around myself and felt so cozy wonderful and happy. Time for tv, I thought. Relaxation, happiness and me-time before the kids get up.

And then I turned on Hoarders and had my stomach pulled out through my ear, stomped on and then shoved up my nose.

(Not exactly, but that's what it felt like.)

Now, every week, Hoarders has some mildly nasty moments. There will be a dead cat up under a year's worth of garbage, or some animal feces, or some puffy yogurt (and, well, there was that time that there was a staircase full of human feces packed in plastic bags, but we'll not go there). I mean, it is nasty, but it is passive. You get past the moment and you may tell your husband about it later in a, "Dude, that's some nasty shit!" kind of amazement, but you aren't left with a feeling of discomfort that lasts, I don't know, DAYS. OR FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Because I'm pretty sure that images from last night's Hoarder's episode will play in my end of life montage right before I die. Oh, look, there I'm a baby...graduating from college...birth of Alice....HOLY SHIT IT'S HOARDERS. AAAAGH.

But this week...wow. Just the level of mental illness and depravity and total lack of empathy or any real human emotion on this week's episode was startling. And right here is where I should say something intelligent about the lengths that these reality shows will go to to exploit these illnesses, but to be honest, I'm still too shocked to even talk about it.

I am going to give you a little taste of what this episode was about, because I feel I would be remiss if I did not, but please note that if you have a weak constitution, or you know, you value the respect you feel for your fellow man, I would advise you not to read further. In fact, just go happily on your way and don't look back. Perhaps you should get one of those Men In Black style memory erasers and just forget you ever found this blog in the first place.

The episode centers on the stories of Hanna and of Gary and Kathy, a married couple. We'll start with Hanna. Hanna looks absolutely grotesque. You know when you were a kid and you saw those plump little mushrooms in the woods that you could stomp? And you'd stomp a few and they would smoke and you'd be left with a kind of lumpy, flattened fungus? Hanna is the living embodiment of that. She's fat, yes, but she is also misshapen. She has a wattle, ya'll. Which, you know, makes sense if you've lived the life that she has. She has had 16 kids, 10 of which have survived to adulthood. The other 6? Probably lost in the chicken shit. Yeah, mull that around for a second. Chicken shit. Anyway, Hanna lost all those kids when social services came and take them away in 1983 (which was a totally bitchin' year, if you ask me). However, for some godawful reason, those kids are still very much around, and want to assist with the clean up. Now, I love my mom, but she were an abusive animal hoarder who lived in absolute squalor and had turned my life into complete and utter shit, I might pass on helping out on a clean-up weekend. So these people are probably much better people than I am. But they are also the most reprehensible rednecks you've ever seen. And I live in Southern Appalachia, ya'll. I know a redneck when I see one. These people THROW DOWN, and actually start fighting in front of the Hoarders crew. This ain't Jerry Springer, ya'll. RESPECT THE PAXTON.

Anyway, Hanna hoards stuff, yes. In fact, there's a whole house full of it. But she also hoards chickens. And goats. The goats live outside in misery, and the chickens are forced into living inside storage tubs with chicken wire and bricks on top. Oh, and the chickens also live in one-two feet of their own feces. Yup. Matt Paxton, who may be my future husband if my (current)Matt drinks this milkshake I'm making (KIDDING!), finds a dead chicken who had been crushed to death by FECES, and is now as flat as a pancake. It is deplorable. I won't go into just what is accomplished by the whole Hoarder's experience for this woman, but let's just say the whole thing is incredibly depressing.

Two funny things though: one, when Hanna's kids came, they start getting in the fight. And they are screaming and shouting about really nothing at all, and I'm kind of tuning it out because you can see this shit at Wal-Mart on the regular if you are that interested, but then the camera just cuts to this shot of this dude just sitting there smoking a cigarette. He's so used to the whole thing--the squalor, the shouting, hell, the television crew. That he's just sitting there, in an orange t-shirt with an eagle on it, smoking away. Good for him. And second, the show chooses to show us Hanna at some point, sitting on a bucket in her "kitchen" drinking a mason jar full of some brown liquid. At one point, I was like "thin chocolate milk." But you know that's not what it was. What could it be? The mind blows, ya'll.

The other person featured on the show is just as despicable. His name is Gary, and he's an asshole. He says something at the beginning like, "My name is Gary and I'm unemployed. Yeah, I've got too many bunnies." That's pretty much what you need to know about him. He talks about how he didn't have enough money to buy a hutch, and he had this dude bunny who just knocked up all the chick bunnies and he just decided to let them run free, and you know, EAT THE WALLS OF HIS RENTED HOUSE. Because that's what you and I would totally do! He even says something like, "I'd like to see your house!" Sure, Gary, come on over. No, I don't live in a perfectly straight mansion with gold toilet seats. But, um, there's not an six inch layer of shit anywhere in my house. Score one for me. Anyway, Gary didn't have enough scratch for a hutch, but he has a pretty bitching computer it looks like. Which I'm sure he uses to chat on IRC and look up "breasts" in the Grollier's encyclopedia. 1994 called, Gary. It wants its technology back. And while we're at it, since Gary is unemployed and his wife is on "disability," then the American people would like you to scoot over Gary, so we can play a game of Freecell on the computer WE PAID FOR.

Gary sucks, but his wife doesn't get a pass in my book. She is pretty grotesque too, as far as looks go, and she is disabled. But, folks, being disabled doesn't mean you can't throw out the bag after you finish the Cheetoes. And yes, I am oversimplifying a LOT and yes, someone somewhere is going to get pissed over this, but I'm pretty sure Kathy's disability would be cured if she ate a green vegetable once a year and maybe, you know, walked around a bit. Just a note: she and Gary use their cell phones to talk to each other so that they won't have to get up and move about the house. Mull that one over, folks. Anyway, I understand that she is probably mentally abused by this guy every day, but shit, ya'll. Personal responsibility. Look into it.

Anyway, the part of this story that was interesting/not incredibly horribly awful was when the landlords came. Because this is their house, ya'll. What kind of an incredibly horrible SHIT do you have to be to poop-up someone else's house? These people are saints. They were shocked, yes, but managed not to explode in a fit of rage and rub Gary and Kathy's faces in the mound of rabbit poop. They are from Oklahoma--maybe that is how people from Oklahoma just are. If that's so, Oklahomans are amazing. They didn't even evict these people! My god! When I was in college, the management of our apartment complex would threaten eviction if you left a bag of garbage on your stoop for an HOUR.

And you know, I was going to make a New Year's Resolution post anyway, but this episode of Hoarders has inspired me to do much, much more in the way of life change. Some examples:

1. I am becoming a vegan.
2. I actually may never eat again.
3. I am moving to New Zealand to become a sheep farmer.

The end.

Why "The Two Mr. Kissels" Is the Best Way to Spend Two Hours that I Know Of

Well, ok, since I typed that, I immediately thought of another *better* way to spend two hours, but that way is totally not ok to talk about on this family centric blog. So carry on....

Anyway, if you live a sad, depressed and utterly deprived life, allow me to fill you in on what exactly I am talking about. "The Two Mr. Kissels" is a Lifetime movie. It is based on a true story, and it is awesome. It stars Robin Tunney and some woman that my husband says is on some show he watches that I don't care about.

Oh, and Uncle Fucking Jesse. It stars him too.

"The Two Mr. Kissels" is about these two brothers who do things with money that people like you and I do not understand. Well, maybe you understand it. I'm one of those people that thinks "playing the market" involves bowling with cantaloupes. KIDDING! Kind of. Anyway, they make scads and scads of money all in some attempt to get their father's attention. Because let's not forget, ladies: This is a Lifetime movie. In any one of these, whether you are stripping or giving a teenager a hummer on your second date or entering into an ill-advised pregnancy pact or, yes, investing money into a hedge fund named after members of your family, you're doing it to get the attention of your father, who will never exactly put down the goddamn sports page and give you that attention. John Stamos's character is crazily greedy and money hungry and does all these super shady things. He also does a lot of blow. Because in Lifetime's world, it is ok to be upper middle class. Sure, have a nice big house and put your kid in cello lessons. But if you have too much money, you automatically morph into this:

Which is another reason why I like this movie, believe it or not. In your average Lifetime movie, sex is the thing being demonized. Sex is only for a) incredibly wanton teenagers who will soon get syphilis/pregnant/DEAD and b) people who commit adultery and then kill their significant others. Oh, and it is for babies. Which are wonderful. So you have sex, which is this totally awful job that you don't really want to do because it can only be compared to cleaning the toilet or scrubbing the hard water stains off of the shower door, so you can have a baby which is AMAZING and really, the only reason for living. I love me some Lifetime, but yes, it does bother me that this is the message that is so often given out. And don't even get me started on that Pregnancy Pact one where at the end it is intimated that Thora Birch's character is a changed and good person (when she's been insufferable the entire two hours) because she did not get an abortion...she just lied about a pregnancy, did not tell the father, and then gave the baby up for adoption. So, long story short, I'm kind of glad to see the glaring light of anger be put on something other than sex for a change. Sorry rich people.

ANYWAY.

The Two Mr. Kissels is also awesome because of three other things, and they are nowhere near as thematically problematic. The first thing is this: one Mr. Kissel is living in Hong Kong, spending his time being rich and working for some huge company, and SARS breaks out. So he sends his wife (Robin Tunney) and children back to the US to escape it. During this sojourn, his wife starts banging the cable guy. Which is funny, because well, I've never even seen a hot cable guy. Never. Our cable guy here, for instance, could get a job ringing a bell if this whole cable thing goes the way of the dinosaur. But the husband, well, he does what any self respecting rich guy would do in the situation. He hires a PI. We see the PI sitting outside of the house and watching while, one morning, the cable guy leaves and gets in his poor person's car and drives off. And you hear the PI talking to the husband, saying he has bad news, and he tells the guy that his wife is boffing some other dude, and then he goes, "He lives down the road." *beat* "In a trailer park."

And then you see the rich guy's face and he is just AGHAST. You almost feel like screaming DUM DUM DUM at the TV (or at least, I do, but then again, I talk to my TV. We have a loving relationship.) He has just been served. On a silver platter. With bone fucking china. That PI might as well have told him that his wife now has scabies and smallpox and running sores all over. Anyway, I just love it.

And the second awesome thing is kind of related. His wife ends up *SPOILER ALERT* killing him. And she does it in this pretty evil, totally awesome way, where she gets her kid to give him a rohypnol laced milkshake, and then she bludgeons him to death with a statue. And then (after a few spa treatments and a massage), she wraps him in a rug, and has some worker dudes come up and get the rug to take to storage. And she has her four year old son hold the door for them as they leave. Yes, she has her four year old son hold the door for his dead father's body to be carried out. Classy. And let me just say, Robin Tunney's performance here is great. She just has this swagger about the whole thing that I kind of dig, and that is really missing from a lot of these movies. And, I absolutely fucking adore the outfit she wears while she murders him: it is a simple black shift, with a v-back, with a skinny red belt and red pumps. I may cop to looking for a similar ensemble after I finished watching the movie. Not to kill my husband in. Just to have, you know, while I make milkshakes and have furniture moved.

And the third awesome thing is this: at then end, everything has just gone to complete and utter shit for the Kissels. One is dead, Robin Tunney is in a Taiwanese women's prison, and John Stamos is drinking milk out of the carton while wearing a Lohanesque ankle monitor bracelet. And to symbolize this, we get a shot of Uncle Jesse, just hoovering down a big bunch of blow in his car. And the awesome thing? It's a Pontiac! I just think that is genius. Prior to this, there is a scene where the US Marshalls swoop in and take a garage full of expensive imported automobiles. So you know things are bad when this dude decided to drive domestic. For some reason, I think that is a real gem--such dynamite characterization. And it makes me inordinately happy, not because I delight in seeing rich people have to do demeaning things, but because it is a great example of saying so much with just one image, just one well-placed product.

Anyway, this is a gem among Lifetime movies. I just watched it (well, halfway at least) for the third time, I think. And since I have seen a few of these movies during my break from work and I would never willingly watch any of them again, it feels extra special to have found it. Consider the suggestion a late holiday gift from me.

2011 is nigh, ya'll. Hope your New Year is amazing and that it is the start of a rich (but not too rich) year for us all.