Becca’s World

I watched two interesting shows on YTV Monday night, pretty much by accident. Occasionally I indulge in a little “channel-flipping” because there are times that a TV listings guide isn’t enough and you need to see for yourself what’s on at that moment.

“Unfabulous” reminds me of “Lizzie McGuire” and “15/Love” makes me want to take up tennis. I guess I have a youthful heart (and possibly mind as well) since I enjoy these teen shows!

After that hour of TV, “Chasing Liberty” aired on the same channel. I didn’t get a chance to watch it all, so I rented it yesterday. At first I thought the plot would be almost identical to “First Daughter” (which was one working title for “Liberty”) and I found it amusing that the two movies were both released in 2004. Now that I’ve seen the entire show, I have say that “Chasing Liberty” is better. Mandy Moore is more interesting onscreen than Katie Holmes, the dialogue is snappier and there are a couple of characters that make “Liberty” stand out even more. Oh, and Mark Harmon is the US president in Mandy’s movie. I’d rather watch him than Michael Keaton any day!

I wasn’t that great at this quiz since it required knowledge from the comics, while I’ve learned most of what I know from the movies. (Don’t remember much from the Saturday morning cartoon.)

The third movie is great, btw.

I think “Willow Grove” makes a better working title, but don’t get too used to it since I don’t know how much the show will have to do with the story. It was just the first thing that came to mind, unlike my usual habit of naming stories after their heroines. Actually, you can feel free to think of this as “Kaitlin” if you wish. Just keep reading it!

At least once a week, we made room in our busy days for dinner together. We used to take turns cooking on those nights, but gradually it became a joint effort. That Thursday, Rob made a delicious fruit salad, Carrie provided a scrumptious chicken and rice casserole for the entrée, and Martin whipped up an insanely good cheesecake. I made punch, thanks to Grandma Mahony’s secret recipe.

We all shared the highlights of the past week and compared schedules, discovering that Monday and the next Friday might do for our next big dinner. After that, Carrie and Rob almost had a huge argument over Rob’s latest girlfriend, with Carrie calling her an “airhead” and Rob bringing up her sense of humour and compassion for others. Martin declared an end to the topic and asked us where he and Tanya should go on their honeymoon. Cancun and Paris topped the list, which I found totally predictable.

“You could take her to those places for a summer vacation. This is a special milestone. How about renting a yacht and taking her to a private island for a week? Something for just the two of you.”

As usually happened, the phone rang (for Rob this time) and our dinner party ended abruptly. Martin thanked me for my suggestion and said I should write down any other ideas I might have. I was quite appreciate of my receptive audience and composed a list of getaways as I loaded the dishwasher. If I needed a second job or my library faced budgetary cutbacks, I could always apply to be a travel agent!

A while later, I had just reached a crucial point in the newest John Grisham novel – research for work, lucky duck that I am – when Rob came to me with a long face and a speech that started with his familiar “I need your help.”

I set the book aside and tried not to follow each plot possibility to its conclusion. Interruptions while reading a thriller or mystery ranked almost as high as unplanned breaks in a WG viewing period. “What’s up, Rob?”

“Melissa needs a place to stay. Her sister is leaving town for a new job, and she can’t make the rent on their apartment on her own.”

“This is a simpler problem than you usually have. She can come here. We’ve got the extra bedroom, after we move the computer and gym equipment to the den everyone neglects. Or you can take things to the next level and share your room. Whatever you want.”

“You’re forgetting Carrie and her attitude toward Melissa.”

“Once she gets to know her – ”

“Somehow I doubt she’ll let things get that far. I don’t know why, but she really hates Melissa.”

“I’ll talk to her for you. Martin can be my backup, if necessary.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“I’ll do my best, OK? Otherwise, we’ll check the papers for rentals and bug all our friends, too.”

“Thanks.” A smile brought back the usual Happy Rob. “Guess I should study now. Did you know I only have thirteen courses left after this semester? This is the farthest I’ve come to a complete degree.”

I wasn’t holding my breath for that graduation ceremony, but neither would I burst the balloon of hope rising from my friend. “You’re doing an excellent job.”

Though I wanted so very badly to finish the novel, I knew I had to advise Martin of the impending chat with Carrie. Actually, “chat” is too light a word for what I expected to occur. I was ninety-nine percent certain we’d have a huge fight. What did Carrie have against the girlfriend we’d only met twice, and so briefly?

Martin believed we could reason with Carrie. So optimistic for an intelligent, logic-loving man. That could be his weakness though; most women I knew treated logic as a last resort. We reacted emotionally to the world around us and resented attempts to downplay the importance of our feelings.

We checked in with Rob to determine the time line of “Operation Persuasion.” (The name was my idea, thank you very much, and I stuck my tongue out every time Martin mocked it.) Melissa’s sister had a flight out of town the next Wednesday, having taken a selfishly long time with her decision on the job offer and the subsequent revelation of her departure. If I were Melissa, I’d have demanded the sister fork over cash for at least one month’s rent. Of course, my sis – one Patricia Stacey Marcus – would never do that to her younger siblings, and besides she had a husband and kid to live with, not yours truly. (Might I take this opportunity to state that my nephew is the cutest, smartest two-year-old I know? Merci beaucoup.)

We decided to corner Carrie Saturday morning, while Rob took a mid-term exam on some programming thing called C++. (What odd names computer geeks have for everything!) We didn’t tell him this, of course, in case it made him too nervous to think straight. I just declared the situation under control and hoped we would achieve our goal before Wednesday arrived.

Disclaimer: I have a bad habit of leaving stories unfinished, so if you like what you read here (and hopefully in upcoming posts) you may have to push me a little to continue. I get distracted far too easily and could use a reminder to stick to this. Also, this isn’t the same project as I mentioned in a previous post, so I hope neither one suffers from my desire to branch out.

WG

I couldn’t believe my ears. Josh had proposed to Theresa! “What are you thinking? She’s the one who ratted out your mother and then made sure she got jail time!”

“Kaitlin, please stop yelling at the TV.”

Martin, one of my three roommates, didn’t approve of people trying to convince fictional characters not to mess up their equally fictional lives. He also hated daytime television, which I had to record because of my work hours. I used my spare time on the weekend to catch up on the happenings in “Willow Grove” (henceforth known as WG).

I had a social life, make no mistake about that. Yet I still found the time for Josh, Theresa, et al. Can’t a gal have one guilty pleasure? Not according to Martin, but I ignored him when he started on a rant against WG. Had he even watched one episode? Did he know how addictive the show could be?

I managed to tone down my outrage at the screen. If I didn’t annoy Martin too much, he often made me a snack at some point during my viewing marathon. Sweet guy really.

Carrie and Rob were the other occupants of 22 Cherry Tree Lane. (Yep, our street name sounded cheesy enough to fit right into Josh’s tumultuous life.) Carrie and Martin worked at a gym downtown, while Rob was still in university. He tended to change his mind every few years, so he hadn’t finished any one program yet. At that point, he thought he wanted to learn as much as possible in the field of Computer Science and then travel the world helping to install systems in developing countries. Martin said he was crazy, and I usually pointed out that at least Rob had good intentions.

As for me, I had been called “the ditziest librarian in the world” – you’d think my younger brother would be more respectful – but those who got to know me had to see that I was just young at heart. Why should I become entirely serious, even stodgy, simply because my job carried that stereotype?

I suppose I could have afforded my own apartment, but I seemed to thrive on the presence of others. When I attended university, I had a roomie each year. They were all more interested in parties than books, yet that never bothered me as long as I had someone to chat with, and occasionally bore by relating the details of the most recent WG plot developments.

I suspect that both Carrie and Martin had similar reasons for wanting to share the five-bedroom house. We’d all met at the gym at one time or another, and when the place went on the market, we pooled our money. Rob was the only one not listed on the mortgage papers, since his indecisiveness had reduced him to the level of “starving student.” Maybe he was the baby brother in our pseudo-family or perhaps we just pitied him; whatever the case, we gave him a break with payments and picked up the slack equally.

“You know, if you turned off that cheesy show, you might have some company.”

Ah, Martin. And more importantly, my food! All right, I kid. Still, there are fewer more wonderful sights than a man bringing nourishment to a hungry woman.

“C’mon, Martin, you never know till you try it. Perhaps you’re the next devoted WG fan, just waiting to be converted.”

“You’re loopy.” He sat down next to me, pushing aside the quilt that somehow made my WG experience all the better.

I stared at him, then the remote he didn’t touch. What alternate reality had I tumbled into for Martin to join me for even the last half-hour of this week’s marathon?

“Popcorn’s getting cold, Kate.”

Oh yeah. I placed the bowl between us and returned to WG, though I must say that my attention was divided for a bit. I didn’t argue when he made the occasional dig at the dialogue and fashion, but I couldn’t forget that he had chosen to watch what he always avoided like the plague.

(I know, clichés are to be avoided in writing. But I’m a librarian, remember? I perform an important service to the community and should therefore be entitled to a few overused phrases!)

My parents phoned just as the credits began – they know my schedule too well – and by the time I was off the line, there was no chance for an exit poll with Martin. He headed out to dinner with his fiancée (who had to be taking some nifty pills to consider marrying him, great friend though he was) and what with our weekend plans and then work, I barely saw him until the next Thursday. It would be extremely silly to get his opinion of WG then, even supposing it had changed one iota. Though I’m not opposed to strange behaviour, this time I let it pass.

“Over the Hedge” was great and I highly recommend it. I laughed so hard!

What I don’t approve, however, is the way “The OC” ended Season Three. Marissa could have gone to the airport and had a tearful goodbye. I wouldn’t have minded that in the least. The writers didn’t need to resort to killing her!

And why does practically every show have to get rid of a character or two that way, every season? Can’t you think of more creative ways to write people out? Death used to be edgy and shocking, but now it’s often boring and overused. Stop the killing!!!

(All right, rant over.)