Homeland: A Manic Review
Ever since Caleb got super cable last week, I basically haven’t left his house. While he’s been re-installing sinks, walking Franke the dog, and cooking me dinner, I’ve been lying on his couch, starting and stopping innumerable television programs that aren’t really up to Brie-obsession standards, meaning that I haven’t watched them in their entirety. Here are the ones I’ve watched so far:
- Shameless
- House of Lies (I only watched one episode of this, because it is abysmal.)
- Kim and Kourtney Take New York
- Angry Boys
- Justified Season 3
- The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (Ok, fine, I’m so obsessed with the RHOBH that I brought it up during a session with my therapist, who then spent five precious minutes—worth an astounding $45—talking about what kinds of drugs Kim is on).
The only show that hooked me, truly and desperately, was Homeland, which Caleb watched with me. After a slow start—we only consumed two episodes in the first seven days of “Super Cable Heaven”—we polished off the rest of the show this weekend. Caleb, who sets a rule that he will only watch two hours of television a day, and that day must be Sunday, had to be co-erced to stay on the couch yesterday afternoon. I used secret tactics learned in the basement of my high school boyfriend’s modern split level home many years ago, and he gratefully planted his ass down. Six hours later, in the darkness, we rose again, completely starving. “It’s unfair that only some people have access to Showtime,” Caleb said, in awe.
