Don't do it, Billy!

Did you remember that Heroes is back on tonight? I hope this reminder didn't come too late. Remember A LONG TIME ago when we heard Heroes wasn't back until April 23rd and it seemed like an eternity away? I wondered how I would ever remember to take the trash out, as every Monday night I would say to myself "Don't be a hero. Just take the trash out." after I finished a blissful episode. And there were a few weeks where I did forget to take the trash out. Thankfully, it's back, so I don't have that concern anymore.

So I have a question for you. You like Heroes, right? Everyone in America does. But it is about superheroes, which could be seen as a little nerdy. But it is OK, because everyone is doing it. But what if you watch Battlestar Galactica? That is super nerdy, right? No questions asked. If you watch Battlestar Galactica, you are a fracking nerd. Why is that? Why is Heroes OK to discuss the next day at work, but not BG unless you work at a comic book convention or the factory where they make Nerdberry Ice Cream.

Now, what if you like Harry Potter? That's cool, right? What about if you are excited to see Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer? Pass the Nerdberries.

I love all of these things. (Except the Silver Surfer. Why is he silver? And why does he surf?) And I love long books about wizards and epics and dragons (Which my wife affectionately calls "Nerdy Books." And coincidentally, I just finished "A Feast For Crows" book 5 in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series and it was delightful.) So I am a died in the wool, true-blue, through and through nerd. I just wonder what it is that causes one to cross the line from mainstream "Sure I like Heroes but who doesn't?" to Comicon Attendee? Your thoughts....

Where were you on Friday Night?

Were you with me, cheering on the Dillon Panthers as they took state after running a risky hook and ladder? Well you should have been. Truthfully, it happened on Wednesday night, as that is when the show airs despite its confusing title. And, truthfully, I didn't watch it on Wednesday or Friday night. I only watched it a couple of days ago, because we were behind on the Tivo and I was making a lime pound cake with raspberry sauce for a friend who was pregnant with twins. But the point is: Why are you not watching this show?

I regret that when I posted last fall about what you should be watching I neglected to mention this show. I knew it was based on the movie that was based on a book, but I hadn't seen or read the source material. I remembered that my brother Joel, who played football all through high school and college, told me that he had cried when he watched the movie. (Or did he cry at that one with James Van Der Beek? Or was the one with James Van Der Beek "Friday Night Lights?" And how do you get four names like James Van Der Beek? I really can't answer any of these.) And I also knew that I didn't really care about football, so I wasn't sure that I could care about a show about football.

So our downstairs Tivo (which we view less frequently) diligently recorded the first 7 or 8 episodes and I thought that I would either end up deleting it eventually to make room for The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, or I would watch it in the summer, for Tube Storage. (You know, those shows that you don't watch during the regular season but you watch when nothing else is on? My friend Lisa wisely calls it Tube Storage.) But we hit a bit of a TV lull in December, so we decided to watch an episode. And then another, and another. I was instantly hooked. And it has quickly climbed the list to one of my favorites shows.

The basic premise is that in small town Dillon, Texas you either play football, or you root for the local high school team, or you wish you could move out of Dillon, Texas where everyone thinks about nothing but football. The show follows Coach Eric Taylor as he tries to help the team recover from a devastating season opener where there star quarterback, Jason Street was injured and paralyzed halfway through the game.

It sounds simple enough, and it sounds like it is about football. And it is. But it is smartly written, and dramatic and funny and brilliant. If you like football, you have no reason not to watch this show. And if you don't like football, you have no reason not to watch this show. What, Wednesday nights you are too busy with Bones? Or YMYW activities? This is more important.

What makes this show so great are the amazing characters. The coach and his wife get a lot of media attention for being the only realistic portrayal of married life on TV. They love each other deeply, but they disagree and they make fun of each other, but always with an undertone of respect and none of that condescending, eye-rolling garbage you see on "Yes, Dear." But there are so many other characters to love. Like Matt Saracin, who takes over as QB1 after Street is injured. He is shy and geeky and inspiring and I want him to marry one of my unborn daughters. And Tyra, the resident bad girl, who hates football and has a slutty messed up mom but is fast friends with the coaches innocent 14 year old daughter. And Landry, Matt's nerdy best friend who plays in a death metal band and never fails to make us laugh out loud.

That sort of sounded like a Sunday School talk about the kids in my ward, but believe me: the characters are real and interesting and well acted and don't feel like they are being exploited by Hollywood. Like no one cares what kind of bag Tyra is carrying (I am looking your way Mishca Barton.) I hope when Emmy season rolls around this show gets some much deserved attention, because it is in danger of not making back next season, and I need to know if the Coach takes the job at TMU and if Tyra falls in love with Landry, and what happens with Julie and Matt. So until then: watch the reruns or get it on DVD when it comes out and set aside your Friday nights next fall. Have I ever failed you before? (OK, "The Nine" got really stupid really fast and then got canceled. Forget that one.)

Now it is just making me sad....

It started out kinda funny. Like, "Hey, let's see what how horrible that Indian kid is tonight on American Idol!" But we knew he would go away soon. There was no way he would last too long, like that Antonella girl and her skanky past (and future?) And then came the week with the roll-brushed hair. And I started to feel a little bad for him. He is just a kid! He doesn't have enough of a personality to say to the stylist, "Don't roll-brush my hair!" And then came the slicked back hair and the fedora....ouch. "Surely, he will be eliminated now!" the people cried. "What?! He is in the final twelve!?"

Well, I knew he wouldn't last long. First, his song was awful. And second, what was up with the sponge rollers the night before and the big silver hoop earrings. He looked a lot like Miss Five, which is a great look for a young grad student, but not for a teenage boy on a reality show. And then he made it through again! What is going on.

Just let him go, America! I know it is sort of funny to see his hair and listen to him sing like a little boy at the ward talent show. And maybe you get some sick pleasure when the judges rightfully tear him apart. But don't you think it is sort of sad to see a little boy become the butt of America's communal joke? Just let him go....But, WHAT! He is STILL on the show! Of all the singers in America, you are telling me his in the top 11?

Of course, he did sign up for this. In fact, he tried really, really hard to get on this show. He would probably be really disappointed if he wasn't on the show now. Oh, well. I guess he deserves it. This is what I am hoping to see next week:

Gender Identity Issues

Table and Singlepot
So I was at McDonald's today. I am a frequent customer, most often when the weather is bad and I can't face any other outings. The kids run around, I get my diet coke and french fries, and all is well with the world. Except today, when I discovered that the happy meal toys were divided, as they often are, by gender. Yu-Gi-Oh! for the boys and The Littlest Pet shop for the girls. But my two boys wanted the pets. . .and couldn't have cared less about the others.

Even while ordering them the "girl's meal," I began to feel a bit sick to my stomach (and no, it wasn't the food). Then, the toys arrived. One was a white cat on a peach pedastal with a heart-shaped keychain, the other similarly designed, but a monkey with a pink bow. I don't know why it bothered me so much -- I couldn't stop thinking about it. Should I have ordered the other toys? Should I try to hide the toys from them now, before the other kids see? Did I force the pets upon them, and now they're going to have gender identity issues for life?

Let's be honest. . .there's not much we can do about the things to which our children take a liking. They both gravitate toward the trucks and trains, and our stuffed animals are high on a shelf in the playroom. But I like it that way, and, I suppose, am at least partially the reason they love what they love. You don't see dolls and strollers in the playroom. They own one million matchbox cars, and they surely didn't do anything to earn the money to buy them for themselves. At one point, I put those stuffed animals on the high shelf and haven't introduced them since. Am I perpetuating the gender stereotype that I feel I'm too socially evolved to uphold? And, if I am, should I be bothered by it? And, if I shouldn't, why do I (see guilt-ridden emotional breakdown at McDonald's)?

On Oprah the other day, Julia Roberts, made even duller by her new motherhood, said what I think most mothers feel, "I knew I'd love my children, but I never knew how much I'd like them." They're amazing beings that make me laugh and make me think and push me to become better, which is more than I can say about most people in the world. And they've only been on the earth for a short time. I suppose some of my recent insanity stems from the awesome responsibility I feel to make their lives the best that they can be. Once, Josh gave Jonah a haircut in the bathtub while I was out running errands. Let's just say it was unsuccessful, and left him looking. . .well, special. That night, I went to bed in tears. Jonah didn't care what his hair looked like -- and I suppose that was the point. I could dress him like a clown, red nose and all, and send him out the door, and he wouldn't think twice about it. His life is in my hands, and sometimes it's more than I can handle.

Someone recently said that the reason our mothers are so good at laying on the guilt is because it's been building up since the day we were born, and now they can finally unleash it on us. Oh, my kids are in for it. . .