Zoe and I have reinstated our weekend workout. The difference between us, one of the many, is that I drive to the Marina Green and Zoe runs there.
She fucking runs there.
Anyway, our weekly hour and a half along the Bay is obviously spent discussing the minutiae of our lives. I'm talking shit like, "Oh my god, I almost forgot to tell you! I got new shoes!"
We also discuss television at length and in filling Zoe in on all the shows she HAS to watch so we can discuss, I realized I've added a lot to my entertainment regime.
Obviously, I pretty much live for The Office, Friday Night Lights and above all else, Project Runway. Mikey and Eve have gotten me committed to 30 Rock, which is admittedly genius. But Zoe doesn't watch network television.
We're both into Millionaire Matchmaker, where some sad woman fixes up "millionaires" with model/actress types. Sick and disgusting, yes. But as you read this post, you'll see a theme developing.
Like Celebrity Rehab! Zoe rolled her eyes at this one. "Isn't it all celebrities no one's heard of?"
"Well, yeah. But you GROW to love them." Plus, Dr. Drew, the brilliant, mellow and somewhat attractive addiction specialist is kind of a straight Tim Gunn with a stethoscope.
The Real Housewives of Orange County is goddamn stupid. But I can't look away. I just want to bedazzle a crucifix on a tank top and get acrylic nails. And sticking in Orange County, Lifetime brings us Top This Party, featuring a party planner to the insane and appallingly wealthy. My favorite client so far as been 70 year old Dr. Mel and his "friend", the 25 year old Lindsay. Mel and Lindsay keep getting grilled on the details of the their relationship. Everytime Lindsay says, "We're friends. Right, Mel?" Mel just looks down at the ground and shrugs. The guy bought her a boat! But hey, one look at Dr. Mel and his Just for Men and you'd say you were just friends, too.
Finally, I'm back on with the Golden Girls. This morning alone, Rose placed a personal ad in the Community Center newsletter and when no one responded, Blanche and Dorothy made up a guy named Isaac Newton and wrote her love letters. Hello? Genius.
It's been a slow weekend. Sue me...