Today it was announced that NBC's upcoming sitcom adaptation of Chelsea Handler's memoir Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea has found its 20-year-old version of Chelsea Handler in Laura Prepon, a TV veteran who is 30, and a mere five years younger than Chelsea Handler's (alleged, because, come on) current age. We're not saying Laura Prepon won't do a decent job, but nevertheless, this means it's time to cast other comedians' memoirs with their TV-inappropriate counterparts. Because you know TV executives would do half this crap.
My love of Drop Dead Diva is well documented. I should be more ashamed of it than I am (and believe me, I'm pretty ashamed of it), but you know how it is: summertime, lowered expectations, Legally Blonde nostalgia, etc. -- I can't help it! And while last night's Season 3 premiere was just as mindlessly pleasing as this show has always been (minus the painfully lingering Grayson-as-Jane's-soulmate-arc that won't die even though it really should), while watching it I had a lot of, for lack of a better term, "that's so Raven!"-esque moments whenever the episode dipped into its most stereotypically Drop Dead Diva writing and directing wells. There were dozens of these moments last night, but the following are the eight most prominent.
Thanks to Videogum for hepping me to details of amazing forthcoming soap Sordid Lives, set to premiere in July on Logo. The gaystastic campfest, which is based on a cult play, will star Rue McClanahan, Beth "Sparkle Motion" Grant, Caroline Rhea, Olivia Newton-John (I know, right?!) and fag-hag par excellence Margaret Cho as a gaggle of trash-talkin', pill-,poppin', Tammy Wynette-lovin' Southern gals coming to terms with gayness all sorts. Based on the clip, I think VG has pegged the show perfectly as "Desperate Housewives meets Steel Magnolias meets a John Waters movie." In other words, pure perfection. Unlike the VG folk though, I am utterly confident that this show will completely and totally rule, despite the presence of Carson Kressly. Sordid Lives airs July 23rd on your Homo-Dial.
Neil Patrick Harris singing about anything is pretty much all it takes to make me happy (see my summer ramblings about Dr. Horrible). We don't lovingly refer to NPH as our patron saint around the office for nothing. He does magic, he can sing, he's Barney, he used to play a doctor on TV. Just all around awesome. So of course I was going to love the latest offering from Funny or Die. They had the amazing Marc Shaiman (he wrote all of those infectiously addictive songs for Hairspray) cook up a special musical number about the Prop 8 controversy. It's a joyful and silly star-studded affair and has succeeded in finally getting me out of my funk.