The Sequel

Last week, I headed down to Austin for me second go-around with the ATX Television Festival.  It's no secret I love television.  It's my entertainment medium of choice, and I hold no aspersions of any refined taste.  I can love cheesy schlock as much as any critically acclaimed series, and I will never draw a line of distinction.  It's all wonderful to me.  OK, maybe not wonderful, but if I start a series and don't bail after a few episodes (which is rare), I'm with you until the end, bitter or otherwise.  In fact, I've been known to watch a series finale for a show I've otherwise never watched.  I'm that dedicated.

Someone on Twitter once asked what your dream job would be (training and salary notwithstanding), and my answer would be television critic, if not television writer outright.  How I didn't drift into this over the years is a mystery and sadness to me.  Eh, maybe there's still time.

Anyway, this time, I hopped in my car and made the trip solo this year (thank you, husband and parents).  I have to say, it's much better to have someone in the passenger seat and I hope I can rectify that in the coming years.  I made it in time to get all registered up and in line for the first panel I wanted to attend, only to see my friend and kind hostess Regan standing in the I Already Have a Golden Ticket So I Get in First line.  We texted (yes, texted - I am new to the 21st century and could finally do this) to make seating arrangements, and headed in.  

Now, listen.  Last year, I got mad at myself halfway through the weekend for not talking to the celebrities and panelists when clearly other attendees were doing just that and no one seemed to mind.  That's when I decided to toss my shy business to the birds and approach anyone I darn well pleased.  Did I look sound like an idiot sometimes? YES.  But I got some nice pictures and shook some hands (or uncomfortably hugged people, I don't remember) and got over my darn self, so WIN.  This was my approach going into this year.

Until this first panel about ratings and reviews (which was information and interesting and awesome), which included Tara Ariano or Mighty Big TV and Television without Pity fame (late of Previously.tv) whom I've followed forever and admired for truly mining the essence of snark and the television recap, and well, I just couldn't.  I should have because she seems like a class act who doesn't think her sushi won't spoil, and I'm kinda bummed I missed that opportunity.  Tara, I think you're amazing.  I hope I get a chance to make a fool of myself in front of you another time.

There were other talented critics whom I enjoy reading as well, but I went fangirl for Tara (whom I'm calling by her first name because obviously we are best friends even though we haven't met).

The rest of the day passed with me feeding my parking meter, nearly spraining my ankle in a pothole, and developing a migraine that kept me from eating much at the awesome restaurant Regan picked (I am certain she now thinks I try to eat like a supermodel  when I was actually dying to munch down on the waffle fries she ordered), until it was time to drive across downtown to meet up with Jennie and her mom at the Friday Night Lights outdoor screening.  Let me make a long sub-story short (heh, like I'm slowing down on the overall story) and tell you that one of the circles of hell surely must be trying to park in Austin, Texas, on a Friday night.  I drove around for - no joke - an hour trying to find someplace I didn't think I'd get towed before I gave up and went back to celeb-watch in the hotel lobby.  Jennie assured me the evening was more about swatting mosquitoes than hanging out with actors.  I'm taking that cold comfort.

*Brisk clap* OK, Saturday.  Regan and I rendezvoused with Jennie, her mom, and Erica that morning, then went off to the screening we wanted to see.  First up for me was a conversation with Fonzie himself, Henry Winkler.  I felt like last year's luck was riding with me, and sure enough, I scored a front row center seat.  The man is exactly who you want him to be - kind, self-deprecating, truthful, and a fantastic storyteller.  He spoke for an hour and then took questions.  Remembering my new tactic, I stuck my hand in the air, ready to use the line I'd worked on a few days prior.  When he pointed at me, I told him that my husband had me promised that if I got to speak to him, I'd tell him that he was Chris's role model growing up, and what did he think of that title.  First, he asked my name and Chris's name, answered the question, and then said, "Give Chris my best."  Classy.  (There's a YouTube video of the talk and at 50:20, you can see the exchange.  Chris actually got choked up when I showed him.  Softie.)

 You look' at me? Wait, wrong show.

 The Fonz showed up for a moment.  It was greaaaaaayyyyyyt.  (Too much?)

They ushered us out of the theater before I could get a picture with the man, which is one of the great tragedies of the event for me.  Sigh.

Next was a reunion for the cast of Everwood.  I know you didn't watch t, but you've probably seen at least one actor in another role.  Treat Williams - heard of him?  He wasn't there, but he was in the show.  Again, I scored front row seats and lo, it was very cool.  So many of the cast came that I couldn't get them all in a picture, and those that couldn't come sent videos.  About three quarters of the way through, Chris Pratt, another cast member who couldn't be there, called via Facetime to David Hudgins, who was moderating, so we got to hear from him "live" as well.  What a neat little surprise.  And I asked a question again (pats self on back for hutzpah).

 Just a few of them.  No one has aged.

Isn't technology cool?

A note about David Hudgins.  He moderated the Friday Night Lights panel last year and Everwood this year, and he is just my favorite.  It's obvious why he is such a successful TV writer, plus he's fabulously witty in person.  I could with him for hours.  David, call me!  Heck, hire me! I work cheap and make good coffee.

That was all I had on tap officially, but Jennie and her mom (Peggy, I suppose I should use her actual name) were going to the Parenthood panel and could save me a seat since they had special golden ticketed and I didn't.  And it's a good thing because they had to turn people away from this one.  Why? Well, it's a really good show but also because Lauren Graham and Peter Krause surprisingly showed up.  This Q&A was entirely too short, of course.  Also, Ray Romano is on the show and was there for just about every panel, so bonus there.  (Love the man, but he seemed awfully uncomfortable talking to people about the work he's chosen to do with his life and also he could shave and put on a nicer shirt once in awhile since he's not inside his house.)

 

 I wanted to put these side by side, but apparently, this is where technology breaks down for me.

Then I did some people watching in the hotel lobby while Jennie and Peggy went back to their hotel and Regan and Erica were embarrassing Sean Astin at his show's premiere, and I finally scored a picture with some famous people.

Mission accomplished.  This is mostly for my dad, who watches Rookie Blue and Grey's Anatomy and therefore knows Gregory Smith and Sarah Drew.  I managed to get this by offering to take a picture for the girl who originally approached them and them asking her to return the favor.  Clever, yes?

I'd like to take a moment to award Sarah Drew the Connie Britton Award for Hair Excellence at this year's festival.

Sunday, I had a golden ticket to the reunion of the cast of Roswell (I know, you didn't watch that either), but I knew this was one of the biggest tickets of the weekend and it was in one of the smallest venues, so I wanted to make sure I was early enough to get a good seat.  That's when I had to brilliant idea to check out the Goldbergs screening which was happing immediately prior to the reunion in the same room.  I'd seen a few segments of the Goldbergs over the season, but this was the first full episode I's seen, and it's pretty adorable, and not only because it was about the son doing karate to his own neat kind of like Sammy.  It's charming and brought back a lot or memories for this 80s raised kid.  I think I'll watch more next season.

I saw Wendy McLendon-Covey at the hotel Saturday, and I didn't recognize her.  I thought I was watching some CW starlet get hounded by festival goers, and was shocked when I realized she plays a mom of teens on TV.  You go, WMC.

The Roswell reunion was good, although I think I'd prefer clips over the life of the show to watch the pilot in its entirety.  Another cast member (Jason Fehr) surprised the audience, and it was clear they all loved each other still (except for Katharine Heigel , who was neither there nor mentioned, so it makes you go hmm...), which makes for a nice experience.  The real cock-your-head-and-raise-your-eyebrow moment was when the last question asker turned out to be Snooki.  Yes, that Snooki.  I guess she has enough slush fund to fly down to Austin to reminisce about a TV show she once watched.  Key, whatever.  She's a fan.

They look the same.  15 years later, I do not look the same.

 

Another note: Jason Katims is a supremely talented showrunner and I'll watch almost anything with his name attached, but he should probably take a public speaking seminar.  

OK, enough recap.  I had a wonderful time staying with Regan and cannot thank her enough for giving me a roof over my head and coffee in the morning.  He children a ridiculously gorgeous and her husband very gracious to let a random internet stranger come into his house for 2 days.  I really wish she was my next door neighbor (and that Erica lived on the other side, she's just that awesome, too).  It would be the snark center of the world.  Ladies, you are the best.  Please come visit me anytime.  And Erica, I apologize for teasing you about your Ray Romano affection.  You have excellent taste and are not at all stalkery (he would totally talk to you).  I also loved hanging out with Jennie and Peggy some more and hope that continues when our book club get back up to speed.  Hey, did Snooki write a book?  Should we read that next?

Let me show you the fantastic picture of Regan and me:

And Erica and me:

And Jennie, Peggy, and me:

And Ray Romano and me:

Yeah, I failed big time on the picture and it pains me.  I WILL do better next time.

Which won't be next year.  It killed me not to buy an advance ticket with this wonderful ladies, but I already know I have a conflict next year.  Even though it's a REALLY good reason, it's still a bitter pill to swallow.  But you better believe I'm writing in 2016 in red marker on my calendar and tasking someone with buying my advance ticket when they go on sale at next year's festival.  Because my camera and I will be back, and I will be timidly yet certainly approaching Hollywood type people.  I'm coming for you.

Look.  Snook.

Best Weekend Ever (and Lots of Hotness)

Well, it's been quite the busy weekend, what with weddings,births, and graduations.  I'm so happy for all of you, and I can't say that strongly enough.  There has just been a bounty of joy and love and happiness concentrated over the past few days, and it's wonderful.

My weekend was pretty darn awesome as well, even though it didn't include any life-changing events.  Well, maybe it did.

It's no secret that my entertainment of choice is television.  I've probably devoted way too large a percentage of my brain to TV trivia, my own personal TV history, and housing a veritable IMDB inside my head.  I know about shows, past and present and even ones I haven't watched.  It's just my thing.  So when I heard about the ATX Festival  - a weekend celebrating all things TV - I knew immediately that I needed to be a part of it.  Not that I bought my ticket 3 seconds later.  Oh no, that would have violated my intensely frugal nature (duh), my tendency to procrastinate and stew, and my penchant for putting everything possible before myself.  But I felt it call to me (or maybe that was just the voice of Jennie urging me along), and I hit purchase on a full access pass.  In October.  For June.

And then I waited.

Finally, the day arrived, and Jennie and I made tracks for the festival, where we met up with Erica (seriously, if you're going to a TV festival, there are no better 2 people to tag along behind - they are awesome).  This being only its second year, I really had no idea what to expect.  I had visions of long lines and huge throngs of fans and maybe getting to see an actor from a distance through binoculars.  So imagine my surprise when we moseyed our way into the theater for our first junket of the day, the Friday Night Lights cast panel, and sat right on down in the front row (Hey, Bob Uecker, look at me!).  Right before they released this hotness onto the stage.

And then I fanned myself.

They started the panel even though there were a couple of open seats at the table, but I figured (all I dared to imagine) that there was a couple of no shows.  Anyway, they showed up a favorite clip of the two lead actors, Connie Britton and Kyle Chandler, doing what they did (do) best, and I was just charmed.  Again, daring not to hope, but maybe, maybe, hey, there are 2 empty seats, what if -

GAH! HERE THEY COME! KYLE CHANDLER AND CONNIE BRITTON ARE 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME! 

And with that, the whole thing was made for me.  I could go home happy.  Wow.

Seriously, it was the best moment of the entire kit and kaboodle.  And only partly because I now had someone age appropriate to drool over.  They - all - were charming and funny and gracious and clearly appreciative of both the series that gave them this experience and this particular moment itself.  My only regrets were 1) that I did not have a single tissue to hand to the lovely Louanne Stephens (who played Grandma Saracen to perfection) when no one from the festival could produce one, and 2) that I didn't hang around to take pictures after the panel was through.  I would have loved some shots without a giant table in front of everyone.  But now I have goals.

Despite that being a crowning, heart attack inducing moment for the ages, it was only the beginning.  I got to see panels that included the never-aging Scott Wolf from Party of Five (and his equally darling co-stars Paula Devicq, Wilson Cruz, and Lacey Chabert, all growed up), Scott Porter (yes, again) and Wilson Bethel from Hart of Dixie (seriously with the hotness), and finally a cavalcade of talent (and hotness) from actors across the channels and years, whom I could list, but instead I'll just show you a picture so I can share the hotness:

Yes, I realize that I could be most of these whippersnappers' mother, but I can appreciate hotness and give it its due.  Nice job, actual mothers.  And also: Kyle and Joshua, we of slightly enhanced experience can hang out anytime.  We'll drink margaritas while the rest of them get carded.

By the time this final panel drew to a close, I decided to get over my inner timid mouse and make something of the moment.  I did now shrink out of the door and just stood there until I could make this happen:

And this:

I'm kind of proud of myself for not giving into my fear of people and of myself a fool of myself in front of said people and just going for the moment and the memory.  I mean, I probably did make a fool out of myself (at least to Jennie and Erica, but they didn't run screaming from me so I couldn't have been that bad, but then again, Jennie did need me to get home), and I still don't have the perfect line to make a celebrity instantly decide we should be the bestest of friends, but I'm not going to let that bother me.  I got to hug Joshua Malina and Scott Porter.  Kyle Chandler - next year, I'm coming for you.

Thanks to my husband for agreeing to my crazy scheme to make plans and pay money toward something that wouldn't happen for 8 months.  Thanks to Jennie for bringing this whole thing to my attention and actually encouraging me to join her in the marvelous madness.  Thanks to Erica for providing the best snarky comments and not calling security when I decided I was getting a picture with someone famous come hell or high water.  Thanks to security for not tackling me when I did just that, or for any one of the 243 pictures I took while flagrantly disobeying the no photography disclaimer (and also, ha, no photos - that's funny, 2013 TV conference).  Thanks to Natalie for sharing her home and family with us for a weekend (I'm pretty sure the coffee talk was as entertaining as all the TV bizness).  And thanks to the ATX Festival for existing.  Full stop.  

Excuse me while I go pack 14 boxes of Kleenex in my luggage for next year.

Heart of Glass

Over the last 2 weeks, I tried to watch every possible minute of the Olympics, as I am a sports junkie only once every 2 ½ years.  This was no easy feat as, most of that time, I was sharing a single room (& television) with the 3 other people in my family while on vacation.  So we all got a good dose of Olympic fever.

Last Thursday, Sabrina starting asking repeatedly to see Oscar.  I was perplexed.  Had she suddenly reignited her love for Sesame Street?  And if so, how did the grouch get top billing over Elmo in her heart? Slowly, it dawned on me: she wanted to watch Oscar Pistorius run another race.  I’d called her over when he was qualifying for the men's 400M race and explained that he was special because he didn’t have feet to run.  I pointed out his prosthetic legs, which she dubbed “forks.”  Apparently, my little lesson stuck n her head, and she wanted more.  I told her he’d be running Friday night and we could watch him together.

Cut to Friday night and NBC’s wildly inconsistent scheduling.  It got later and later, and still no coverage of the men’s 4x400M relay Pistorius was anchoring for South Africa.  I finally told Sabrina it was time for bed.  And she threw a FIT.  “I want Oscar! I want Oscar!” she wailed, and suddenly, I spun into a flashback of epic proportions.

I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 6 or so, when one night, I’d seen an ad for Solid Gold (yes, I’m that old) and their special guest, Blondie.  I was transfixed by Debbie Harry (or Blondie, since I thought that was her name and didn’t realize there was an entire band) and her electric blonde hair and I desperately wanted to see her perform.  But the show was on way past my bedtime.  And this being the age prior to VCRs and all recording devices that have come since, I didn’t have an option.  My dear parents, seeing my sadness (or rather, seeking an immediate end to the dramatic shrieking I was engaging in), told me they would wake me up when Blondie came on.  Mollified, I trotted off to bed.

Sometime later, I was dragged from my slumber and plopped in front of the TV, but I had no idea why.  My folks stared at me encouragingly, all “we’re fulfilling your request, you ungrateful snot,” but I was in too deep a sleep haze at that point to register who they were, much less what I was supposed to be watching.  At some point, I went back to bed and didn’t really recall a thing.  No matter.  I have been reminded of these shenanigans repeatedly since that day.

So I gave Sabrina an updated solution: I would record the race and we could watch it the next day.  She, like me, then headed off to sleep, but unlike me, she somehow popped her head out of her room, completely awake, about 2 minutes before the race was set to start.  We sat side by side on the couch and cheered on the man with the fork legs.  And even though he pulled up the end, we were thrilled we got to see him run.  She has asked me every day since when we’ll get to see him run again.

I hope I’ve taught her a little something about perseverance and courage.  And I hope I’ve had enough payback to suit my mother.

(There is a massive post (or posts) coming about our trip.  Stay tuned.)

I Could Make a Bad Pun Here, But I’ll Refrain

I am a soap opera fan. I admit it freely. Have been since I was 6 years old. Are they highbrow, intellectual entertainment? No. Are they entertainment, period? For me, the answer is yes.

Today, ABC announced they are canceling 2 of their 3 soaps, All My Children and One Life to Live. They join the recently departed Guiding Light and As the World Turns from CBS, and together have over 2 centuries of history. Centuries.

I was actually watching One Life to Live when the news came across the internet. Irony, you are a cruel little bugger.

I am sad for the actors, crews, and other people who will lose their jobs. I am sad for the legions of fans out there who won’t get to see their shows after years of dedicating watching. I am sad for the magazines that cover soaps, which will be little more than pamphlets after this (with even more jobs lost, I reckon).

The appeal of the soaps, for me, lies in the never-ending nature of the story. Sure, the plots start and end, arcs ebb and flow, characters come and go, but the whole world inside continues. I liked that I didn’t have to say goodbye completely, not at the end of a season and not at the end of a series very often. Despite the campiness, the drama that doesn’t quite translate to being actually possible, soaps create their own reality, albeit heightened for entertainment’s sake, that made us fans engage, enjoy, commit a part of ourselves, more so than anyone does to other genres. There’s something about the almost every day, every week nature of such a program that promotes a deeper level of engagement, one that leaves fans feeling somewhat personally invested. Because soaps are rooted in the idea of creating and perpetuating their own history, it becomes part of the history of the person who watches. It’s certainly part of my history, and my mom’s, and my grandma’s, and my aunt’s…

I’ll give you 2 more reasons I’m upset with this news. It appears that the network went out of their way to convince the show’s employees that they were not being canceled, so this feels like there was some nasty lying going on. That bugs. What also bugs is that the replacement programming will be talk shows, and not even particularly creative, unique, or innovative ones. They will be like the rest of the talk shows that now fill the daytime landscape, except for the odd game show (rock on, The Price is Right!) and the 4 soaps still left standing.

No, I do not sit in front of my TV all day long. I don’t even watch the soaps every day or every week. But I can sit down when I have a minute and catch up. It’s nice. It’s comfort to me. As much as I loved Lost, I couldn’t miss a couple of weeks without being hopelessly confused. I’m confused enough in my daily life, thankyouverymuch.

So I’m sad today. That’s all I wanted to say.