Among all the voices in my head, I tend to be partial to my most reasonable one (she’s making me write this, what I really mean is judgmental and self-conscious asswipe). And this wise voice thinks that the three posts I’ve been writing over the last few days are just not cutting it. Maybe I should remind her that I don’t have very high standards.
Seven days since my last post. The last time I was this uninspired, my husband and I decided to pack our bags and leave town. Where do you go when you’re uninspired on the road? Back home?
I’m thinking I should suck it up and use my imagination.
Update: My imagination just flipped me off and went back to staring at the wall.
Maybe one of the reasons I can’t seem to focus is that I’ve been writing while my mum watches her Hindi TV shows in the background. And oh my good merciful god, that is some seriously insane TV. I mean, I’ve been a TV snob since Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones happened to me, but I also have some incredibly low standards when it comes to soaps and day time shows, and this stuff smashes those standards!
I can either blame the shows for my brain freeze or own up to the fact that I’ve got nothing here. So I’ll blame the shows.
May I please take a moment to talk about one of them?
I’ll take that as a yes.
So one show is about a divorced dad and love-spurned woman, who were neighbours until they were forced to marry because his child considered her to be the mother (good thing the kid didn’t think they were all mer-people and had to move back into the ocean). Anyway, they have a cutesy, sleeping-in-separate-beds kind of relationship that seems more realistic than the art-directed home they live in. At the start of the show (hey, I’ve been jobless okay), our male protagonist is still in love with his ex-wife who left him for his business partner. As the show crawls on, we see that the business partner, being the evil douche that he is, ditches her for a younger model. As you do. Anyway, the ex-wife comes back to the ex-husband, who is now in love with his new wife but still covers up for his ex’s mistakes. What ensues is a series of absurdities bordering on awesome set to the soundtrack from tone-deaf hell: suspicions, fights, love, slapstick-unfunny-ness, ultimatums, tears, smiles, awkward flirting – and soon, all’s well in the badly art-directed home.
Except that would mean the end of the show, and that must not be. So I caught up a few days ago to find out that the ex-wife is now dead.
Multiple exclamation marks.
Everyone is shocked. We know this is true because the camera swings furiously in epilepsy-inducing close-ups of every single member of the cast, as they give us their best aghast expression without creasing the 27 layers of makeup.
And you’ll never believe this – Shonda Rhimes should be taking notes right about now – the ex’s ghost takes over the new wife’s body, giving the actress who could only write ‘Sweet wife with maternal qualities’ in her folio, a sparkling new bullet point: ‘Calculative and possessed meanie’.
How am I supposed to fight that?
Up next: A manipulative woman manipulates people.
They had me at manipu-