The Starter Show

I think everyone loves to secretly love two things: Celine Dion and TV. Most people you meet will not admit to either of these loves, will usually shout NO! I do not like Celine! I do not watch TV! They lie. Secretly, everyone has at least once beat their chest and sang "My Heart Will Go On" in their car and knows all about Tyra Mail. It's ok, you don't have to admit it out loud.

But I will.

I LOVE TV. For the past two years it's been a manageable love since we didn't have cable. I was restricted to just loving the prime time obvious like 24 and Lost and American Idol. But last Friday, the heavens opened up and behold......ILLINGWORTH MANOR NOW HAS CABLE TV. It's been a week and I already get jittery if I don't get in at least an hour of HGTV every night. I've now been freaked out by Little People Big World and scarred for life from some caveman show on The Discovery Channel last night. We got cable at the perfect time - when all of our shows had just ended. Now we're free to watch all the weird sci-fi-cartoon-network-TLC-comedy-central-MTV we want!

But I fear, it's already gone too far.

I presume you've seen the ads for the USA mini-series The Starter Wife. I presume this because I felt as if I was being stalked by this show. Ads for the show were in every single magazine imaginable. Every other commercial. Debra Messing was on every morning talk show. I even heard about it on conservative talk radio. It was at that point, when two old dudes were talking about "that one girl with red hair from that show...she's in it" that I knew I could not bring myself to watch something as overly-hyped as honeymoon sex. I vowed to ignore The Starter Wife. I would stand strong! I had 93 other channels to watch! I would not be lured by the "from one of the producers of Sex and the City" mumbo jumbo!

So I watched it.
And I liked it.
Oh crap.