When I was six months pregnant, Mike and I attended a taping of Northwest Afternoon. For those not living in the Northwest or those who do not watch television in the afternoon because your coolness > my coolness, Northwest Afternoon is your typical useless local programming–an hour of pandering to women who love crafts, cookie recipes and Soap Opera Digest. I never understood Soap Opera Digest. What are you digesting? The same damn storyline?
Why couldn’t there be a Soap Opera Cut to the Chase periodical? It’d be a one page print-out with some random soap star on the front and big bold headline reading: SHE DIES! And you’d flip it over to read: BUT COMES BACK TO LIFE! And next week’s Special Pins and Needles Edition headline would read: THEY GET MARRIED! Flip over: BUT ARE KIDNAPPED BY COBRA COMMANDER!
Since the show we attended had already been taped, the only live portion was Cindi Rinehart’s talking version of Soap Opera Digest. Before taping began, she spoke to the audience about what she was going to talk about including LOST and Desperate Housewives and asked, “Who here loves LOST?” I raised my hand. “Who here loves Desperate Housewives?” The woman next to me practically jumped, saying, “Yeah! It’s so addictive!” Cindi nodded and said she would ask us what we thought of the shows on-air.
I sat in the front row with my enormous pregnant gut casting a shadow on my feet readying myself with witty lines about LOST. Cindi skipped over audience participation until she said, “Oh I have some juicy tidbits about Desperate Housewives.”
Cindi then looked directly at me and said, “What do you love about Desperate?”
I wanted to say, “How about nothing? I hate Teri Hatcher.” Instead, what came out sounded like I had just emerged from an English as a Second Language class, having just corrected my erroneous but succinct, “Me love you long time,” to, “I am prepared to love you for a great length of time.”
“I love it.” I spat out in a monotone-fresh-off-the-boat-voice. “It’s great.”
“You love it?” Like, come on pregnant ESL grad, give me something that sounds like, I don’t know, a coherent answer?
“Yeah. Uh…It’s addictive?”
I don’t even remember what happened after that. I’m sure that the producer screamed into Cindi’s earpiece, “Move on from stupid pregnant woman! I repeat–MOVE ON!”