Hump, Marry, Kill: Attack Of The Galleristas

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Hump: In the beginning, I was all about Weeds. Nancy Botwin, a newly widowed suburban mom, played by the enigmatic, smokin'-hot Mary Louise Parker, turns to drug dealing in her Stepford-esque California town to pay the bills. Plus, there was the ever-present, "will they-won’t they" sexual tension between Nancy and her brother-in-law (Justin Kirk). And Hunter Parrish. It was all great.
Once the Botwins left Agrestic in a blaze of quasi-glory, though, things kind of went off the rails. A brief sojourn south of the border ended with Shane becoming a murderer. The family became off-the-grid nomads who lived in an RV for a while with Doug (Kevin Nealon)... because sure, accountants latch onto their friends on the lam all the time. Then, there was that kinky incident with Mark-Paul Gosselaar, a.k.a Zack Morris, in a bar.
Needless to say, I stopped watching somewhere in the middle of the road trip. I tried to pick up again with season seven, which saw the Botwins relocated to New York City, but again, it just got weird. I finally tuned into the final season this week, and while I’m not sure I’ll continue watching, I was glad to receive confirmation on one thing I never really doubted. Mary Louise Parker? As smoking hot and inscrutable as ever.
Marry: Speaking of Weeds, one of the main reasons I held on so long was Justin Kirk. His wry charm makes even the most unsavory of situations and ludicrous of plotlines somehow seem swallowable. Plus, the rest of Kirk’s oeuvre is amazing: Barto on Jack & Jill, Prior Walter in Angels in America, Flannel Pajamas, and so much more.
Unfortunately, Kirk’s latest venture, playing a veterinarian who’s great at his job but not at love (isn’t that the plot of The Mindy Project, but sub in gynecologist for vet and remove the monkey from The Hangover?) on NBC’s Animal Practiceis far beneath him. Seriously though, how can a sitcom with puppies be so boring? Nevertheless, I’m here for you when you need to cry over the inevitable cancellation, Justin.
Kill: Every so often, a new reality show debuts that’s so trying-to-be-zeitgeisty that it really just amounts to a bunch of terrible, self-centered people doing mundane things and thinking that they’re great — and I can’t look away. This is exactly what happened when Gallery Girls premiered this Monday on Bravo.
The casting directors of Gallery Girls deserve some sort of award for their ability to find such an eclectic mix of unabashed entitlement, Brooklynites, outsiders, and yentas. My personal favorite — and by favorite I mean “how is this a person who exists in the real world” — would have to be Chantal, the lovechlid of Rooney Mara, a wood nymph, and Jack Skellington.
The first episode finds her opening a combination art gallery and boutique with her best friends, but Chantal doesn’t seem to have a care in the world save for getting drunk on opening night. While she’s adamant about having moved to New York on her own at 16 and surviving without parental support since then, Chantal doesn’t seem to have a problem eating through the $15K loan her friend’s parents had given the girls to open the boutique-gallery (boutallery? gatique?). Why should she when she’s got this great fallback plan? “If after six months, this isn’t working, I'm going to fly to Key West and hire a raft to Cuba, and I’m gonna chillllll.”
She’s also fond of making people take “slap shots,” in which she slaps people immediately after they take a shot and says things like, “Maybe I just expect everyone to be like me.” What a treasure.
Photo: Courtesy of Showtime; Courtesy of Chris Haston/NBC; Courtesy of Virginia Sherwood/Bravo

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