Starting now, I'll be rounding up some of the North Texas-centric moments on the tube from week to week. Since it's still alive, by the grace of Jesus, I'll start with GCB.
GCB
Premise: Several rich, big-haired women with dripping fake Southern accents navigate Dallas' drama-filled religious society sect (if such a thing really exists). Their days are defined by domestic quibbles, bitch-on-bitch bitchery, gossip-fueled scandal and scripture lessons, all set to a quirky Network Television score (don't those bouncy string numbers make you laugh so much harder?).
Plot primer: First of all, can you believe this thing has made it to three episodes? The death march that began with the underwhelming pilot continues longer than anyone expected! Here's what we've ascertained about GCB's plot by half-watching out of the corner of one eye: Amanda is a tall, beautimous blonde who's just lost her cheating husband to a deadly case of mistress road head, so she moves back to Dallas with her two kids and sets up in the manse of her mama, played with aplomb by the great Annie Potts. Thing is, Amanda used to be queen bitch in high school, and she terrorized y'all's neighborhood. There remains a gaggle of Bible-beating bitches who hated her, like, really hard back then. So they're all out to get revenge, even though she's seemingly nice now, having been taken down a few pegs by her embarrassing dead-cheating-hubby sitch. The gaggle of revenge-seekers is led by Kristin Chenoweth, who delivers lines as if she's doing voiceover work on Steel Magnolias: The Saturday Morning Cartoon.
The latest action: Amanda's mother encourages her to get out and start dating, so naturally she ends up (kind of against her will) at a church singles meetin'. Everything happens at the church on this show. Well, everything except Amanda's new day job ... at a wings restaurant called Boobylicious. Subtlety isn't one of GCB's pillars. The singles group event eventually serves as the climactic setting for all the show couples' drama. Kristin Chenoweth and her DILF-y hubby have hit bottom after trying to rekindle their sexual flames with Adam-and-Eve roleplay. The tall brunette lady whose name I don't remember begins to question her fake marriage to a secretly gay (and hot, of course) husband. Another nameless-to-me main character eats her pain after learning that her failed-football-player hubby (yep, hot) ... Wait ... hold on a second ... yeah, I can't go on with this. GCB is like the television equivalent of the Easter candy Peeps. Fun for a few seconds, and then your entire being starts to hurt from a combination of toothache and shame. What have I gotten myself into here? Please get canceled, please get canceled ...
ALSO ON IN THE BACKGROUND ...
Big Rich Texas: The premise seems to be very similar to that of GCB, only this show is "unscripted," which makes it a lot more watchable. For one thing, the villains in this version of D-FW society -- including barking cheerleading moms and a scheming pageant maven -- are ACTUAL monsters who make their younger subjects' lives miserable without a second thought. Quite delicious television, if you can stomach this kind of thing. Favorite cast members are a blonde mom and daughter who look, talk and think just alike. They've lost all connection with reality-based reality, but they're at least kind of nice to other people on the show. Bonnie and Whitney are their names, and they battle the mean girls on the show with their mouths hanging wide open. Probably trying to remember their next line from the unscript.
The Voice: This is the newer, buzzier singing reality competition show responsible for giving the world more Adam Levine. Naturally, it's come to rely mostly on its judges and guest mentors for buzz. Nobody remembers the actual contestants. Cee-Lo's white cat is more memorable than the contestants. The Voice is currently in battle rounds, which means each judge narrows his or her own team by making singers face off live on the same song. The always affable Blake Shelton has brought in as mentors for his singers two bad-ass Texas chicks -- his Lindale-raised wife, Miranda Lambert, and the Burleson popster Kelly Clarkson. Both seem sweet, giving and generally delightful in their mentoring scenes. I'm planning on making them my new best friends. What are their Twitter handles, again?
American Idol: Far as I can tell, we have to rest all of our North Texas homer hopes on McKinney's Hollie Cavanagh, a petite blonde with an inexplicable large diva voice and a more inexplicable half-British accent. She's pretty damn good -- better, at least, than this Hee Jun character who sounds like Michael Bolton's dead cat and skates by on his comedy. Or how about that Colton dude, who jumps on pianos and stares longingly at the camera as if he's auditioning for the touring production of Rock of Ages? Go Hollie ...
See you next week for more TV talk. We're thinking of including a recap of Texas Country Reporter. Edgy is as edgy does.
