Growing up, I always had a pretty healthy relationship with TV. Because my mom is single super woman and because I'm an only child, reruns of "I Love Lucy" stepped in save me from the afternoon doldrums more often than not. Much like Milo of "Phantom Tollbooth" fame. "There once was a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself -- not just sometimes but always."
Thankfully, I was also an over-scheduled child before that was even a thing. So between ballet, jazz, gymnastics, Little League, auditioning for "The Pirates of Penzance" and private singing lessons with two different teachers on alternating Wednesdays, plus living about a block from the ocean, there wasn't much time to wile away in front of the boob tube.
"Go outside and play," was less a suggestion in our house than it was a pre-req for dinner. Still somehow I found the time to get addicted to 'The Cosby Show" like every other red-blooded American and that show about the butler I can't remember the name to, and that other show staring Robin Thicke's dad.
So there's really no explanation for the fact that I've welcomed the entire cast of "Smash" into my home. As in I'm obsessed with these people. As in, if I saw Megan Hilty and Raza Jaffrey (the two actors who play Ivy and Dev respectively) on the streets I could NOT stop myself from slut shaming them. And I don't even believe in that sort of thing.
For those who don't live on the set of "Smash" in their spare time, I'll explain: The show's about a small town girl, Karen (Katharine McPhee) who makes it somewhat big as an understudy on a new Broadway show about the life and times of Marilyn Monroe. Ivy is the Broadway vet whose toes Karen inadvertently keeps smashing (get it?). And Dev is Karen's hot boyfriend who can't handle the fact that his career as a press secretary is not popping off like it should. So OF COURSE, Ivy and Dev (both broken hearted for different reasons) find themselves at the same sad sack bar and according to the scenes from next week, what happens next ain't pretty.
Does all these sound totally formulaic and cheese-balling' to you? Me too. But I don't care! I'm hooked in a way that "Gossip Girl" never figured out how to do. Do you know how many fake speeches I've prepared for my walk on role as Karen's sassy pants know-it-all Head Black Friend from back home? A lot. My first one starts thusly, "Hey girl, don't ever let a man..."
I finally get why my great grandmother made us "go outside" whenever her "stories" were on. Yelling at the TV is so much more fun than wrangling a pack of wild seven-year-old or writing a new book proposal, which is what I'm supposed to be doing during my "lunch break." Not watching "Smash" and getting a productive-work-day-shattering dose of high drama.
But everyone has their thing. Without a work wife or husband to procrastinate with (Miles does not count) "Smash" will have to do for now -- and ever more. Anyone else ready to put down that important project due "cob" in favor of writing Uma Thurman a non-creepy love letter?