Tag Archives: television

pop culture

“KOCKTAILS WITH KHLOE” IS CANCELLED

Do you know how hard it was for me to not write the title as “KOCKTAILS WITH KHLOE IS KANCELLED”? It took greater resolve than that time when God told Moses to kill his son. Did I just use a Biblical reference to illuminate a point on the Kardashians? I’m ready for hellfire and plagues to rain down upon me.

Here’s the quick and dirty: Kocktails With Khloe premiered in January 2016, with an original greenlit episode count of eight. FYI was in talks to give Kocktails an additional 15 episodes, pushing the total count of episodes for the season to 23. However, they won’t continue on that promise, and the series with end with a total count of 14 episodes.

The talk show utilized a different camera style, preferring the “fly-on-the-wall” technique, and the entire show was retooled from the traditional form to a more “dinner party” atmosphere. The combination of the two, and the relatively unstructured nature of the show, gave it a listless, unfocused feel—in the opinion of this unbiased and very handsome reporter—that made each hour-long episode—already a daunting task for a late night talk show—feel even longer.

The show was a different direction for Khloe, despite her previous experience filling in as host for Chelsea Lately, and it’s a noble endeavor. She pulled in her celebrity family—and maybe that might have been part of the problem. The laconic, ennui-infected Kardashian-Jenners are suited for reality television, where their antics are enhanced by the glamour of their surroundings. In the confined and static location of Khloe’s “house,” their quiet and reserved demeanors dissolved into being just plain boring. If you think I’m dragging the Kardashians, then I’m coming off too strong. I love them, but I think we need to call a spade a spade. They’re kinda boring sometimes.

Kocktails saw guests such as Kym Whitley, Brandi “Shark Eyes” Glanville, Snoop Dogg, Tyga, Scott Disick, endless combinations of Kardashian-Jenners, my ultra-queen Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi, and Gay Mount Rushmore Head RuPaul. It also had Hot Sharone, Khloe’s bartender. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to Hot Sharone, although to be honest, he was a little distracting.

However, proving both that you can’t keep a good Kardashian down and that Ryan Seacrest has somehow tied his life-force to that of Kris Jenner, Khloe is already slated to have a new show. Revenge Body With Khloe Kardashian has been picked up by E! for six episodes and will follow Khloe as she helps people get after-breakup revenge bodies to…I guess…make their exes jealous. But who’s still the one going on public television to prove that they’re over you?? Seems a little thirsty.

The whole concept of a “revenge body” is a little anathema to me, but it’s kind of Khloe’s brand right now, and if you got it, then you should literally flaunt it. It’s her moneymaker—metaphorically and, now, realistically.

Revenge Body will not be produced by Bunim/Murray, which produces Keeping Up With The Kardashians, and will rather be associated with Khlomoney Productions—pause for eyeroll—Lionsgate Television, and Ryan Seacrest Productions.

The news of Khloe’s show cancellation proves that this is a tough week for Khlomoney. Yesterday, the news arose that Khloe’s brother, Rob Kardashian, and his girlfriend of three months, Blac Chyna, were engaged. Chyna is also the mother of Khloe’s half-sister Kylie Jenner’s boyfriend, rapper Tyga. So now, if Kylie and Tyga got married—Lorde help us—and Rob and Chyna get married, Tyga will be the uncle of his own son, and Kylie will be the stepmother of her own nephew. Can’t wait to be at that Christmas party.

Also, apparently Blac Chyna will revert back to her actual name—Angela—if she marries Rob, becoming Angela Kardashian, making sure that the blood vessels in Kim Kardashian’s eyes will burst.

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Life, pop culture, television

AVOIDING SPOILERS IS THE BIGGEST FIRST-WORLD MILLENNIAL PROBLEM

It’s Monday night. RuPaul’s Drag Race is airing the second episode of its eighth season, which is critically acclaimed by me, because I claim everything critically.

Side bar: Why don’t we use “disclaim” like we use “acclaim”? Or do we?

However, I don’t have a TV, and my “friends” with a “TV” are in “classes” or have “homework” so instead, we make a plan to watch RuPaul tomorrow, Tuesday, online.

Monday night, I’m already antsy. It’s officially past 10 p.m., so it’s officially past the airing of the episode, which means that all of my social media—Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, and Tumblr—are potentially flooded with spoilers (my social media accounts are extremely gay). So, like a monk, I take a vow of celibacy and instead read my book. every time I go to open the Twitter app—likely because there is a devil inside me—I flinch and avert my eyes, exiting the app before anything can be spoiled. I can’t scroll through Twitter. I can’t peruse Instagram. I can’t even watch YouTube in case I see any spoiler. It’s literally hell. I actually went on Tinder and started talking to boys because that was one place I was relatively certain I wouldn’t stumble upon a RPDR spoiler—unless, of course, you’re talking to a gay devil who loves spoiling TV shows.

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Source: Reaction.Club

Side bar: I’m talking to a guy who knows a hot gay that I know, so he’s probably out of my league.

Tuesday, it’s almost 8 o’clock when I’m writing this, and I haven’t yet had anything spoiled. All I have is one more meeting, and then I’m going over to Marco and Mitchell’s and we can watch the episode and I can escape this circle of hell that not even f*cking Dante could cook up.

And during my twenty-four hours of self-induced celibacy—celebritacy?—I have learned something. The whole notion of “spoilers” is completely the trappings of a first-world 21st century millennial. Do you think our parents had to worry about spoilers? My parents had, like, ten channels and one house-phone. They didn’t have to worry about sh*t.

Even in the early ‘00s, when spoilers first started emerging, you didn’t have to worry in the same way. If you missed the last episode of Friends, all you had to do was avoid the water cooler at work. I’m not entirely sure, but I’m assuming the Internet wasn’t, like, a thing-thing in Friends’ hey-day. Now, if I want to avoid a TV spoiler, I have to avoid at least four people and six different social media, not to mention “recap” shows like The People’s Couch (wow, that’s my second mention of that show in as many posts).

I find it so fascinating that our generation can have such unique issues that no one else really had to deal with. Abstaining from social media to avoid spoilers is right up there next to having to change your Facebook profile picture but not having any solid choices, or trying to explain what a hashtag is to your mother while in a Panera Bread. We—the first-world millennials—are growing up in a unique bubble of child and adult.

The other day, I referred to the habit of watching television shows week-to-week, as opposed to binging on Netflix, as “the old way.” I have brainstorming sessions and poll focus groups before changing my social media handles—I’m now @dnnymccrthy on Instagram and Twitter if you want to follow me (dropping the a’s made it seem minimalist and Tumblr-y). I follow an Ina Garten parody account on Twitter. These are not things that have ever existed as problems before.

A more connected world is a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because I can be across the Atlantic and still be annoyed by my family. It’s a curse because there are, at any given point, at least two ugly photos of me from the seventh grade circulating the Internet. It’s, like, a Catch-22—jk I’m not old enough to get/make that reference.

We’re more educated, more opinionated, and more babied. That’s resulted in an entire generation of weird f*cking people. Today I discussed the rhetoric of Donald Trump on his campaign in class and Ubered from Trader Joe’s because it was raining. We’re giant babies.

I’m okay with that though. Or, more truthfully, I’ll be okay with that if I can make it to tonight without some demon spoiling anything for me. Pray for me, guys.

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Holidannys

THOUGHTFUL THURSDAY: CHRISTMAS BREAK BINGEING

First thought: you would think that the participial tense of “binge” would be “binging” but that’s its own word—I think—so I think I’ll stick with “bingeing,” even though that looks as wrong as me in spray-on denim—unflattering on all the wrong places and very misleading.

Bingeing is an entirely 21st century phenomenon, and it’s amazing. If you live under a rock—why?—bingeing is watching a television series from beginning to end—or whatever is on Netflix—in a short, tense, showerless amount of time. Christmas break is the perfect time to really settle in for a good binge.

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But what are the criteria for an excellent television binge? Let’s discuss each criterion (this sentence wasn’t really necessary, but I just wanted to write out “criterion.” Such a fun word! All right, on with the blog!)

A good binge should be a show with a continuous plotline throughout the series. Give me a The Office or a The Vampire Diaries over a It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia or The Simpsons. I think that non-plot-driven shows, your run of the mill picaresque production, are not binge-worthy for one very simple reason. No plot means no character development, and no character development means that you can’t become fully invested. No one wonders about what Homer Simpson will do next. He’ll keep being Homer Simpson. But watching Elena Gilbert turn from boring good-girl to amoral vampire is interesting; it’s compelling.

So Criterion Numero Uno: Plot-driven.

I think a good binge should be either completely fun-filled—your Parks and Recreation—or very intense and dramatic—your Broadchurch or How To Get Away With Murder. Anything in between—a The Good Wife or Vikings—are good for week-to-week entertainment, but I need to be titillated and enthralled if I’m going to move out of my cocoon to press “yes” on the “Still Watching?” button in Netflix. Netflix, side note—assume I’m always still watching.

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So Criterion Numero Dos: Titillating television.

Ideally, an excellent binge is something that has finished its series run. Nothing is more unfortunate than finishing all the seasons on Netflix and having to wait for a few months to then watch week-by-week. Bingeing shows are so hard to switch to a weekly watch. It’s like getting your teeth pulled. You’re used to the sweet, addictive softness of anesthesia; now you’re using a local anesthetic that hasn’t quite kicked in yet.

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Criterion Numbah Three: Your show must be finito; finished; donezo.

And lastly, your binge should be something you’re going into with fresh eyes. Yeah, someone might have told you that it’s a good show, but go in with no preconceived notions. I started bingeing Game of Thrones because someone told me there was a ton of titties and man-butts, but it actually has a very enthralling plotline. Who knew? Part of the fun of an amazing binge is the “Oh my god, what’s going to happen next?” That feeling, that “I’m clutching my blanket in anticipation” feeling? Yeah that goes away when you Wikipedia the plotline to season four. So don’t do that. Give yourself that treat.

Criterion Nummy-Nums Quartet: Now you see me, now you don’t—aka don’t Google it, idiot.

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So there you have it. We have discussed, dissected, and debated bingeing. Just kidding—we didn’t do any of that. You just read this blog. It was good though, right?

Another fun binge: reading through all of Holidannys™ (Maybe? Idk?) and then bingeing all of my blogs ever. There’s almost one hundred of them, so it should take you about twenty minutes. Total.

HAPPY HOLIDANNYS!

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