Category Archives: TV
Confessions of a DWTS convert
Hokey.
That’s why I’ve never watched Dancing with the Stars (the US version of Britain’s Strictly Come Dancing) for years.
I love a good celebrity-filled judging competition like the next guy (or girl) but this one just felt a little old-fashioned and lame. Celebs doing the two-step or the cha cha with a full band? Not to mention the guy from America’s Funniest Home Videos hosting? No thanks.
Well, three weeks ago, I decided to DVR it because I had heard so much about Chaz Bono dancing. I had to see for myself.
One taste and I was hooked. This season includes David Arquette, Nancy Grace and Ricki Lake, as well as Chaz and the hilarious Carson Kressley (who was the latest to get the boot). Any one of them could anchor a season, but together? Forget about it. I’m defenseless against its charms. Add some cameos by Richard Simmons and David Arquette’s soon-to-be ex-wife Courtney Cox and daughter Coco in the audience week after week and it can hardly get any better.
If you haven’t seen it yet, check out this season every Monday at 8 p.m. with the results show every Tuesday at 9 p.m. You can also catch some clips online.
The horror of clotheslines
I’ve started watching American Horror Story. Have you seen it yet? (If not, you have a chance tonight – it’s on at 10 p.m. on F/X).
It’s a gripping new TV show by Ryan Murphy (of Glee and Nip/Tuck fame) centered on a family who have moved from the East Coast into a rambling, old LA mansion with a checkered past, shall we say?
There are some great horror conventions that are followed to a tee. A basement with too many secrets. A dog that barks at direction of said basement. A next-door neighbor who knows something about the house, although we don’t yet know what. And let’s not forget the wife who shuns dryer sheets in favor of hanging her laundry on a clothesline outdoors.
I mean, doesn’t she know that every old American haunted mansion has to have an outdoor clothesline, where psychopaths can hide and disappear? That’s just a page from the horror handbook because unlike Brits, Americans use tumble dryers. And if they don’t, well, they’re just asking for a visit from the underworld.
I think someone needs to make a horror movie that involves a tumble dryer for a change because clotheslines have been getting bad press for too long.
Siri & the British accent
We got an iPhone 4S on Friday and was formally introduced to Siri, Apple’s latest voice-operated genie of sorts.
According to the Apple website, “Ask Siri to do things just by talking the way you talk. Siri understands what you say, knows what you mean, and even talks back.”
What they neglected to add was the “unless you’re British” addendum. Or so we initially thought.
In a conversation with friends Friday night, the subject of Pam Dawber came up (remember Pam Dawber from Mork & Mindy fame?) We were trying to remember the name of the old Pam Dawber TV show where she played the older sister? Anyone? Anyone?
Well, out came Siri to the rescue.
“Siri, who is Pam Dawber?” my husband asked her.
“Looking up Pam Dobah,” she finally responded.
“Pam Daaaaahburrrrr,” he had to repeat, with his worst impression of an American accent.
“Pam Dobah not in your contacts,” she said.
And this continued until we finally quit and looked it up via Google without Siri’s assistance.
(If you were wondering, the answer was My Sister Sam.)
We later discovered that there is a British English assistant that you can switch to – a male British butler type (like a posh Mr. Belvedere) with an ear for the differences between Dawber and Dober. He was able to locate Pam Dawber’s rap sheet without any trouble.
Now the only fly in the ointment is that the British Siri can’t look up businesses or locations. That can only be accomplished (for now) by American Siri.
So Brits had best start practicing the right way to say Los Angeles.
X-tatic
For years, I’ve been hearing about The X-Factor from my British friends.
But despite America’s clearly insatiable hunger for a) reality-based singing shows and b) caustic British judges, America has been an X-Factor desert.
Until tonight!
It is with bated breath that I count down the hours to the series premiere of the American version of The X-Factor and the return of Simon Cowell to the telly.
This winning TV formula, which originated in the UK seven years ago, has already spread to over 30 countries and has finally landed on our shores.
I am looking forward to the smorgasbord of talent and trash, as they comb the country in search of that one individual or band with the so-called X-Factor. The addition of Paula Abdul as a judge is just icing on the cake.
Here’s a sneak peek to whet your appetite.
BRITRISH.COM 