Blogs

Think boy bands died in the '90s? Apparently you haven't been watching P Diddy's Making the Band, where Sr. Combs uses his unique expertise to keep the world populated with pop stars. Season Four's Day 26 performed yesterday at the University of Houston for the Block Explosion, and we had a photog there to capture the show in all its hip-thrusting and thoughtful-posing glory. -- Keith Plocek

Okay, so I totally hesitate to write this post because I fear it is a sign that I’ve turned into everything I hated as a teenager, meaning, a totally out of it adult who is trying desperately to understand what the kids are into these days and then, once she thinks she understands it, shakes her head in dismay and says something like, “Back in my day blah blah blah.”

But could some teenage girl tell me what the Hell is up with “Gossip Girl”?

I mean, I know “Gossip Girl” is a book series for teenage girls, and it follows a clique of mostly wealthy Manhattan teens as they have explicit sex all over the place, including a dressing room at Bergdorf’s. And now it’s a television show (back with new episodes tonight on CW). And the television show is running Internet ads with OMFG superimposed over a still image of some teen couple in the throes of hawt hawt sex.

So what the hell’s up with this supposedly new version of The Best Show Ever In The History Of Television (no, not “Barney Miller,” Mr. Pop Rocks). Of course I’m talking about “Beverly Hills, 90210.” And I have very strong opinions regarding the alleged remake that has all of Hollywood a buzzing (or at least me a buzzing).

I remember in high school how my dad used to tell me how gullible and stupid I was for watching “90210,” and I suppose I probably was, but what the Hell. It got me through my own teen years by allowing me to envision myself living a fantastical high school life full of raves, yellow Mustangs, and parents so cluelessly permissive they should have been reported to CPS. Later, in college, the show helped me hone my ironically judgmental hipster sense of humor as I went from actually wanting to do Dylan McKay to mocking the scene where he sobbed over his dead wife. (I know, I’m evil.) And finally, I remember sobbing over the final episode as a young twenty-something in my own Chicago apartment, drinking beer as I watched the now twenty-something Donna and David get hitched.

So you can see, having grown up with the characters, how strangely parental I feel toward the show.

The Scott Baio show is working my fucking nerves.

Now why you got to go and be so mean, MPR?

Truth be told, I don’t have any real problems with Senor Charles in Charge. In theory he’s probably an all right guy just struggling to get work and pay the bills on time.

But the show “Scott Baio is 45…and Single” (and its bastard offspring “Scott Baio is 46…and Pregnant”) reek of the very worst aspects of reality television. Everything is so painfully, obviously scripted that it actually makes “The Hills” look like cinema verite. Was anyone else rolling their eyes skyward in the first season when Scott suddenly decided to go back and visit all the ladies he’d laid? (Wow, what a GREAT idea, Scott. WherEVER did you come up with it?)

Picture, if you will, a 1980s slumber party in the `burbs starring Miss Pop Rocks and her best gal pals. The snacks? Ho Hos and Doritos. The music? Tiffany. The movie? Grease. The T-Bird Miss Pop Rocks was way hot for? Kenickie, naturally, played by Jeff Conaway. What a bad boy! What a stone fox! What a rebel!

So imagine the hell my inner child experienced when she saw her tween crush –now sporting brown teeth and a gut – have a tech at his rehab rub Icy Hot all over his bare ass. Seriously. That’s the shit they’re showing on VH1’s Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, and man, is it hard for the little teenybopper inside of me to take.

Miss Pop Rocks is sick. The whole basket of fun, including: 102 degree fever, hacking up mucus, uncontrollable sneezing, and so on. But this unfortunate situation has enabled her to conduct a little experiment, entitled “How Many Episodes of America’s Next Top Model Can Someone Watch in a Row?” (The answer, in case you were wondering, is 12.)

There’s a lot of pop culture observation that goes on while stuck on the couch nursing an illness. So forgive my still fever-racked brain (currently down to 99 degrees, thank goodness), and allow me to share some of the thoughts I experienced while riding the couch for three days and putting my remote control on overdrive:

Pardon Miss Pop Rocks for getting all meta on you for a moment, but do you think it’s possible to write about a pop culture blog within a pop culture blog? Because I’m going to try. I’m talking, of course, about Project Rungay: "Project Runway" from a VERY Gay Perspective. It’s perhaps the most brilliant pop culture blog in the world, and that includes my sorry ass.

For the uninitiated, the insanely funny and detailed blog is completely focused on Bravo’s “Project Runway” television show. And for the incredibly uninitiated, “Project Runway” is perhaps the only figment of reality television that may actually leave you smarter for having watched it. (Did you know what draping and organza were before this season? I didn’t think so.) The show pits 15 designers against one another in design challenges, and the winner gets a whole bunch of money to start his or her own clothing line, plus a car. Unlike other reality shows where the challenges involve, say, giving Bret Michaels a BJ, “Project Runway” contestants actually bring the skills, creating outfit after outfit from all kinds of materials, including plants and candy.

That’s all great (unless your fave designer gets voted off…does anyone else think Kit Pistol was totally robbed Wednesday night?!), but nothing could be greater than “Project Runway” mixed in with the bitchy comments of two self-proclaimed “little soldiers of fabulosity.”

• Wasn’t it so weird that on “Growing Pains” Kirk Cameron’s character Mike Seaver had a friend named Boner? I mean, even back in the 80s, the term “boner” was used as slang for an erection, right? Hell, I think they’ve been using that term since the 60s even. So don’t you think it was a little odd that this kid was nicknamed Boner? Geez. It’s not like Tracey Gold’s friend was named Vag or Bush. I wonder if when Kirk Cameron got all super Christian, he was opposed to calling his friend Boner.

• I was surprised that the Owens family could afford to hire a butler. You know, the family on “Mr. Belvedere.” George was a sports announcer, so I’m guessing he brought in pretty good money, but they must have been spending a lot for Marsha to go to law school. So how did they afford not just a butler but a live-in one at that? And they just happened to have a spare room for him? Random. Remember Wesley’s friend Miles with the headgear and the teenage daughter’s friend named Angela who couldn’t pronounce Mr. Belvedere’s name? Those were two ongoing gags that weren’t that funny.

Miss Pop Rocks realizes some of you didn’t even notice that the Golden Globes didn’t air last night; perhaps you were too busy watching the premiere of “Rock of Love 2: Now Even Skankier If That’s Possible.” But for a pop culture writer such as myself, I live for that awards shit! And due to the writers’ strike, the Globes didn’t happen. True, people still won Best Actress in a Drama or whatever, but what good is giving out awards without an awards show to do it at?

Awards shows are to me what football is to my husband. A chance to sit on the couch, eat snacks, and talk shit about the people on television. While Mr. Pop Rocks tends to whine about the abilities of the little men in their helmets and spandex pants, the award show season gives me the chance to vocalize about, among other things, the hideous and fabulous outfits worn by the celebrity ladies. (I don’t care what E! says, no one gives a shit where George Clooney or any of the other guys got his outfit. You put a man in a tux and they all look the same. Yawnfest.)

The Globes are good because the celebs typically drink alcohol at the table and the events tend to be more laid-back and fun (Jack Nicholson mooning the audience, the time Christine Lahti was in the bathroom when they announced she’d won, etc.) Plus, you’ve got your television stars mixing with your movie stars, which always makes me wonder if the television stars feel like sophomores at the senior prom.

I love Jon Stewart to pieces and everything, but let’s be honest. “The Daily Show” simply isn’t as funny when Jon’s jokes are two months old…and getting older.

I’m talking, of course, about the Writers Guild of America strike. Or, as it’s known around my house, The Black Death.

Seriously. When you’re a person who writes about pop culture, the idea that there is no fresh television to adore or mock pretty much means that in about a week or so I’m going to be stuck writing about how cute my cats are. And nobody wants that. Trust me.

At first, when I heard a strike was brewing, I stuck my fingers in my ears and did a little bit of “La la la” until the news passed. But soon, even desperate denial couldn’t prevent the obvious. “The Daily Show” was in reruns. So was “Conan.” And lots of other shows were shutting down. Of course, I’ll be honest. The fact that production of “Two and a Half Men” has been halted actually seems like a positive effect of the strike. But by God, if I don’t find out what the Hell happened to Lynette’s family on “Desperate Housewives,” I’ll gladly fly to wherever I need to and grab Rupert Murdoch and his pals by the balls and make them surrender.

There is nothing more horrifying than a world without TV, and that’s just what the National Association of Broadcasters hope to drive home this weekend, when they roll a 20-foot TV through the streets of Houston. Dubbed the DTV Trekker, the behemoth has been loosed upon the world to remind people that TV stations must switch to digital-only broadcasting by Feb. 19, 2009. The first stop will be at Traders Village, 7979 Eldridge Rd., from 9 a.m. to dusk. Yes, dusk.

Just in case you had any doubt that Houston is quickly becoming a brown city, check out the latest Nielson ratings.

The release from Telefutura – you didn’t even know we had a Telefutura channel, did you? – anyway, the latest release says that according to Nielsen Media Research, the Spanish language KFTH out-delivered NBC and My Network TV in adults 18-34 and beat MNT in adults 18-49.

No biggie on besting My Network TV, but NBC? Oops!

One of the benefits of living with a nerd like Mr. Pop Rocks is I get to take advantage of his awareness of such under-the-radar television shows as IATV’s “Chinese Superman.” Never heard of it? Don’t worry, I hadn’t either until a few weeks ago when I overheard Mr. Pop guffawing in the family room.

I ran towards the laughter and the television, hoping against hope that there was yet another “Mama’s Family” marathon on. Instead, I witnessed what was certainly the most bizarre program I’ve seen in years: “Chinese Superman.”

The show, which airs on Comcast’s Channel 241 with English subtitles, is essentially a Chinese variety program hosted by a very spastic host who acts as if all his guests are turning water into wine in front of our very eyes. In actuality, the guests are performing such “super” acts as:

It’s never any fun turning on CNN and seeing Nancy Grace trash your hometown. But last night, Grace was asking some very intelligent questions about the four Houston-area toddlers who tested positive for cocaine.

The children are a two-and-a-half-year-old girl, a 22-month-old boy and 11-month-old twin boys. The parents, Emanuel Jones, 43, and Tammy Lynn Melton, 25, also have four-week-old twin girls and two older children from two of Melton’s previous relationships. All eight children were taken into protective custody. Jones and Melton were arrested.

Nancy, I call her Nancy or Your Grace, depending on my mood…anyway, Nancy wanted to know why the entire family -- eight children, the two parents and the children’s great-grandmother -- were all living in a one-bedroom apartment. (The apartment is on the 5600 block of Holly View.) Surely this is the exact situation that warrants emergency housing assistance, which local service agencies can provide.

I’ll be straight up honest and say Sarah Silverman kinda works my nerves sometimes. I find her jokes hilarious, but the delivery is a little wearing. The whole naïve act, that deer lost in the headlights look, the “Oh my goodness, I’m such a dirty little girl who says such dirty wirty things” approach gets a little old after a while. Come on, haven’t women come far enough to be able to deliver raunchy humor with a straight face? (Lisa Lampanelli comes to mind.)

Regardless, Miss Pop Rocks has to admit “The Sarah Silverman Program” on Comedy Central is worth catching, and she’s got a sneak preview of the next season, which debuts October 2. Yes, Miss Pop Rocks is so important as to get advance screenings! (Actually, the Press just got a DVD in the mail and sent it to me when no one else claimed it.)