Hollywood, You Lied to Me

There had better be a Starbucks there when I crash.

I am not ashamed to admit that every so often I get so wrapped up in a good TV show that it becomes nearly a medically diagnosed obsession. I have given up tickets to concerts, passed up camping trips, and even secretly skipped an obscure relative’s wedding (oh c’mon, we all know what a fruitcake she is, surely this won’t be her only wedding!), all because I was going to have to miss a new episode of my favorite show.

Netflix saved my sanity—and all future Christmas dinners with obscure relatives—by offering complete seasons of TV shows on disc. No wait, on streaming. No, back to discs. Nope, it’s streaming, I’m sure of it.

Even better, I’ve learned that I don’t have to actually watch shows on any given network time slot because I can just watch the entire series from start to finish without ever having to suffer a rerun or cliffhanger. So when I saw the show LOST being advertised on Netflix, I decided to never watch a single episode until they had pulled the entire series off the air, then I was going to watch all of the episodes at once while on vacation from work or the next time I’m laid up in bed recovering from hernia surgery. It made complete sense at the time.

Alas, it is not to be. I won’t be watching so much as the opening credits. Here’s why.

I’m currently typing this from somewhere over a stretch of land fairly close to Detroit. I’m in the smallest of passenger planes, wedged amongst a college guy who yells loudly while playing Angry Birds on his iPhone, an older woman who hasn’t stopped coughing since we left Atlanta, and a man who does not understand that the armrest marks the official border between the Land of His Seat and my own Seatopia.

I saw the commercials for LOST when it first came on the air and I am here to tell you with full authority that there are never that many beautiful people on one airplane. They lied to me.

Am I the only one who thought it was kind of strange that the survivors washed up on the island already haggard and stubbly, like they hadn’t shaved that morning before heading to the airport just in case they were going to be marooned on an island and wanted to look the part? And as the season wore on, why were all of the gorgeously stubbly-faced hottie men STILL stubbly faced? Unless someone had snuck a communal razor in his carry-on bag and the bag magically washed ashore, how were these men not sporting ZZ Top beards?

And is no one else worried that by the middle of season three the lone fat guy was still supremely overweight? Was he eating the extra cast members? Shouldn’t more people have been disappearing off the island as he struggled to maintain his Rubenesque figure?

Nope, the reality of airline travel struck and I’m done with pretty people masquerading as actual TSA passengers. It does kind of explain the government’s rush-job to develop, “I can see you naked through your clothes technology,” but that’s a whole other channel you’re not going to get me to watch.

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2 thoughts on “Hollywood, You Lied to Me

  1. In the big guy’s defense- he was accused of hoarding food- but wasn’t. Also he did go down several belt sizes and turned out to be a pretty important player in the grand scheme of things.

    As for the stubble- well, convient razors were found, as were showers. Which, I always thought was fair given all the polar bears, smoke monsters, dead people, time traveling, and plot holes they had to deal with.

    But you’re right about the pretty. I too have been flying with the wrong airlines. Ian Somerhalder (my celebrity BF) and Josh Holloway have never been on any of my Southwest or Air Tran flights. :/ but I’m not sure what I would do with myself if they ever were…

  2. ROFL!!! As someone who has actually camped in the woods for months at a time I can tell you that those skimpy outfits the women wear wouldn’t cut it!. After a few scrapes and ant bites they would be stitching leaves together to cover their more tender parts! And the guys wouldn’t be running around bare chested either! My flying experiences with my fellow stugglers–er travelers–are more like yours. Maybe those guys in Hollywood need to get out more!

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