I hop from ABC to PBS to E! to Showtime while between the sheets — the shows that prove to be the highest bidders are the ones that get my repeat business. I'm already a Bravo regular, so when the reality TV mecca announced its first scripted series, I was game. So what constitutes as a high bidder to this TV critic?
When a show opens with a husband (Jake) sneaking into his marital bed at the crack of dawn, you know something's up. But when his wife (Abby) whispers, "You smell like sex," and he comes back with, "Screw you," I'm hooked.
Still reveling in the above salty exchange, I was soon rewarded again by the character of Jake and Abby's grade-school son at the family breakfast table. At first glance the scenario appears to be a 2014 version of the Cleavers, but then Charlie muses, "Is it weird that I like the smell of my own farts?" Bam. This could simply be another example of dialogue that draws me in, but I predict it's the character himself. Whether he was egging his mother on by proclaiming, "Penis, penis, penis," or being a vulnerable kid who realizes that he's about to be from a broken family, Charlie has a fan in me.
She's a personal growth author who draws from her happy family for material. As a personal growth author who once lamented about making star-shaped croutons for the perfect Christmas, methinks I'm going to enjoy Abby's unraveling. (Shameless plug alert: Live in the Moment, Atria Books, makes an excellent holiday gift for women of all ages.)
When was the last time you saw Carrie Fisher without honey-bun braids for ear covers? From the looks of next week's episode, Bernadette Peters will be swinging by crazy town.
"Her dad trolls for dates at One Direction concerts."
"Are you in a Tab commercial?"
"At least I don't wake up smelling like Astroglide."
"My vagina is not dead; it was in a coma."
"Screw you and your past tense."
At first glance, Abby's friend comes off as vapid, cryptic and, dare I say, even a little creepy. Sure, she's gorgeous, and when she laid a big wet kiss on Abby because she "needed to be touched," it was a nice little surprise. This BFF relationship left me cold.
Newly married and celebratory of his hard-fought right to do so, he's none too pleased with his sister's crumbling union with Jake. On paper this dynamic sounds like a meaty nuance, yes? Not so much on-screen.
Fake boob pride, nightclub crawlers and walks of shame through an apartment full of 20-something video gamers — none of which leave me with high hopes about a new look at the female midlife crisis.
Lyla, Abby's other bestie, gives in to a "one for the road" romp with her ex-husband, swills wine from the bottle in lieu of pillow talk and when he hits the road, she calls the cops to report a drunk driver.
At the first sign of Abby's meltdown upon realizing that her marriage is indeed toast, her besties offer her a slew of pills, aka "Vicodoodles." (I'm conflicted on this point, however, because the dialogue that spews from Abby's mouth at her pill-fueled Barnes & Noble book signing is priceless. She admits to her audience that her newest book about domestic happiness is "a pile of horseshit.")
Whether GG2D lives up to the comparisons to Sex and the City as an iconic female rite of passage, fizzles out or charters a territory that's entirely its own, I'm in. You?
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