The Cocktail Party Primer (Episode #15)

The thing is, work stoppages, and the mistreated employees there involved, aren’t generally very funny. There’s a reason you’ve never been in a bar and someone has launched into a particularly witty anecdote concerning the Cripple Creek miner’s strike of 1894. Heck, I’ve been trying to write a joke about Ellen for two weeks, and every time I think about it, I just end up making myself sad. If you’ve got any brilliant bon mots, by all means, pass them on. Until then, here’s the dirt that’s fit to print to guide your gossipy tongues through the weekend.

• Right after the first season of Project Runway wrapped up, I got the flu. Not the “feel yuck for 72 hours” flu, the “run over by a semi and wish it would come back and finish the job” flu. At the time, Bravo was running a seemingly endless loop of the show, and I absorbed it through the specific sort of haze that develops from a 104 degree fever and codeine-laced cough syrup. I still like the show, and in these grim times, I was particularly thrilled to welcome it back, even though I’ll never understand why outfits so ugly they make my gorge rise sometimes get a pass. That thing designed by Marion? That was a punishment, not a dress; I’m sure Coco Chanel rolled over in her grave. But still, I’m glad to have the show in my ever-shrinking rotation, even though I sure miss the swirling colors and awesome little fairy creatures I remember featuring prominently in season one.

• As a youngster, I loved game shows. The memories of afternoons I whiled away hollering “No whammies, no whammies, no whammies, stop!” at the TV are dear to me. I still harbor a secret desire to go on Jeopardy some day. But most of the recent crop leaves me cold. Am I smarter than a fifth grader? If one must ask, one will never know. The ones in the pipeline to fill soon to be empty timeslots are even less enthralling to my tastes. Of course, there’s Moment of Truth, based on the Columbian show where a woman admitted to hiring a hitman to kill her husband. Or perhaps you’d prefer there’s Do You Trust Me?, hosted by that bowtie wearing twit Tucker Carlson. He’ll reveal shocking secrets from the players’ pasts to make their teammates trust them less, not that I’m much inclined to trust what the smug little wanker says either. Then there’s German-based Wanna Bet? where celebrities wager on stunt-performing contestants. Obviously, this would be much funnier if contestants wagered on stunt-performing celebrities. Even I’d tune in to see Steve Carrell eat a hoagie while bungee jumping.

• Ever Since Hayden Panettiere got that parking ticket back in August, I’ve just known she was on a downward spiral. One day you’re blocking a fire hydrant, the next your tootie is behind a censored box on the cover of Us Weekly. So you can just imagine how I felt when I heard there is a warrant out for her arrest in Japan. In October, she was a part of a group who tried to disrupt an annual dolphin hunt. She’s been charged with “disrupting the course of commerce,” a shocking crime which— actually, nevermind. My faux outrage can only go so far. Is that actually a crime in Japan? If that were illegal here, it would really ruin my plans to spend Saturday practicing my freestyle rap in front of a K-Mart.

• You might not have noticed, what with my razor sharp tact and world-renowned subtlety, but I like to bitch about stuff. You’re shocked, I know. As it turns out, bitching about the things that irk you is not only a fulfilling passtime, it can also be a meaningful act of cultural unity. If you’re feeling all cranky because The Office is gone, stressing out because Grey’s Anatomy is about to go, or just general have your knickers in a twist because the weather sucks/you’re underpaid/your neighbor cooks a lot of sauerkraut, may I suggest you balm your irritated soul with a few soothing videos of complaint choirs. Invented by two Finnish guys, it’s a group of people coming together to sing in unison about the stuff that really gets their goat, and it’s become a worldwide phenomenon. The Canada/As It Happens choir is probably a good place to start. Myself, I particularly relate to the numbers by groups from cold, gray, northern European countries where the sun doesn’t shine for seven months of the year. Which probably tells you everything you need to know about me, now that I think about it.

Martha Smith is a San Francisco-based freelance writer and editor. She writes mostly about food, TV, and other things that can be enjoyed while sitting down.