Hi gang! I've missed you!
I've had kind of a hell of a summer. First I was super sick (I spent a month with Umbridge the Cough), then work exploded. I literally wasn't home enough to even watch anything so I had nothing to revue. I'll be honest, my crazy work schedule was exhausting; I started having Dreamworks PTSD. I also questioned if I'm just too old for this shit. But that's a topic for another day.
Now I'm back with a vengeance! After months of barely seeing anyone or leaving my house for the reasons above, I'm trying to be more social and active. In an effort to kill two birds with one stone (what a terrible saying...no birds were harmed!), this weekend Beth and I attended a Fitness Marshall event in Roseville. Yup, Roseville. We drove two hours to dance around for one hour. But it was completely worth it, his classes are so much fun. The gym that was hosting him was really more like a country club. I imagine, probably unfairly, that most members would qualify for a Real Housewives of Roseville reality show. The gym is enormous with two levels of classes and workout equipment. Apparently, they also have a cafe where you can be lounging by one of the 4 pools (2 indoor, 2 outdoor), order what you want from an app on your phone, and have it brought to you. Luxurious.
The event was called Esprit de She. There were a TON of overly excited women in all manner of workout ensembles (plus one dude who was clearly there with his girlfriend) RARING to go. Oddly, I was the only one in the 300-person crowd who had taken a class with Fitness Marshall before. So when he asked the question I did a really loud "Woooooo!" expecting to be part of a group of folks whooping. Imagine how uncomfortable I was when everyone around me turned to look, my lone cry ringing off the walls. Awkward.
It was a "Cardio Concert"!
Despite the beautiful venue, the overall communication for the event was frustrating (Beth called it subpar which, upon reflection, was too kind). It started with the statement, buried deep in one of the many confusing promotional emails they sent, that they wouldn't allow bags in the gym for security reasons (presumably so your stuff wouldn't get stolen). This flummoxed us. How is a girl supposed to drive two hours to a workout class and not bring a bag? I will admit that I was extremely bitter about leaving my Chapstick and gum at home. I had to MacGyver my keys onto my water bottle so I wouldn't lose them. Let's not even discuss the state of my Proof of Insurance card and car registration after having them shoved in the tiny pocket of my Athleta capris. And most women DID bring bags. Rule breakers.
The most disappointing part of the whole experience was the post-class event. There was an Esprit de She Fair of sorts, with food, "bubbly" and a chance to win a raffle to meet the Fitness Marshall. They corralled all of us to the outside pool area (and by "corralled" I mean a bunch of sweaty people left a darkened-to-look-like-a-dance-
I'd like to say that Beth and I were gracious about sitting in the hot sun waiting for our number to be called, but that was not the case. We sighed and groaned as each winning number was called. We ended up sharing our table with a woman who won a spot and in a lovely "pay it forward" moment she offered to let one of us come with her as her "friend". I was happy to give this to Beth as I've met them before but Sharika (our benevolent table-mate) said "you should get in too; you are the Mexico woman!" referring to me meeting them in May in Cancun. The event organizers didn't seem too hip about that but I was able to take advantage of a confusing moment and got a wrist band. Beth likens it to a Jedi mind trick (or what she calls "pulling an Erokan") because as we started to move away the harried woman who was giving out the wrist bands looked around and said "Who's the friend?" and I just stuck my arm out and stared at her.
Voila. Wrist band procured. I'm the friend.
Now for a revue.
I'm always up for a series that is contained. I like going into something knowing my commitment level. So when I saw ads for The Sinner I was all in. I think in my heart of hearts I was hoping for something of a religious mess.
I really wanted this to be good. All the ads gave it a "there is a fucked up backstory to this that you are not going to want to miss" vibe which intrigued me. Essentially, in the first 15 minutes or so, we see a woman apparently randomly going berserk and killing a guy on a perfectly lovely afternoon at a lake. Then the rest of the show was supposed to be devoted to the "why she did it" and the "how it fucked up her family".
Well. Let me tell you. There is a microsecond about how this affected her husband and toddler son. There is also a bit devoted to her weird family life growing up - her sister was born sickly and her mother was a devout Christian or something, positive that if anyone in the family wasn't completely pious it could affect the sick kid spiritually (for instance, don't eat chocolate because it's indulgent and that sin will make your sister sicker. What??). But the long and the short of it is: the woman randomly gets caught up with some very bad people and they fuck up her life. She gets a bit brainwashed and it manifests itself in an extremely ugly way.
Yes, I found the story that simple. And it wasn't even like I figured out what the deal was early on. It was just crawling along at a snail's pace and I started to not give a shit. But I had invested time within my extremely busy schedule so I was feeling obligated to see it through to the end. And that pissed me off. I HATE feeling obligated to a TV show.
I kept thinking "you guys could have cut out a BUNCH of inconsequential shit and made it 5 episodes." There were whole subplots that were useless and went nowhere. By episode 6, I said to my cats "JEEEZ-us this is moving slow". Cosmo blinked at me and Finn ran off to pounce his rattle mouse. We were in total agreement.
The two stars of this series were Jessica Beil and Bill Pullman. Neither of them, in my opinion, should carry a series.
Jessica Beil is SUPER VANILLA. Justin Timberlake, what the heck? Was Cameron Diaz such a nut job that you had to go the complete opposite? Half the time I actually can't remember which Jessica she is - Alba, Beil, I can barely tell them apart. I mean, she's beautiful and all but she's SO one note it's hard to remember which note she is. In fact, I felt the best part of her acting was that she didn't wear any makeup throughout the whole series. Brava!
And Bill Pullman. His character in this is a troubled police detective who can't hold on to his marriage and vents his frustration by having kinky sex with a dominatrix. While this should be enough to create a nuanced performance, Bill Pullman looks like he does in everything he's in - slightly squinty and pushing back his hair. I imagine he's thinking "Wow, I can't believe these people keep hiring me! This is awesome. Now if I can only wrap my head around what this plot means I'll be golden." The dude just strikes me as a little dim. He does have really good hair, though.
(My drink pairing with this is a can or two of the Grapefruit flavored carbonated sake. I hear it's really tasty.)
Presenting your lead actors - No Makeup Jessica and Squinty Bill
My takeaways:
#1 - I need to get over feeling obligated to finish a series I don't like. Even if it's short.
#2 - I actually don't object to Bill Pullman...he was great in Spaceballs.
#3 - A year ago I suggested you all watch a new NBC series called The Good Place. Now I'm suggesting you watch Season 2. It's really great!! (and no, I'm not biased at all :)
xoxo...hashtagSueslife
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