A few notes about ABC Family's "CELESTE AND THE CITY"

Sunday night, I was switching between CHARMED, which has been so AlyssaMilanocentric that they should just rename the show ALYSSA AND HER SISTERS, and ABC Family's "original romantic comedy movie."

I know it's just mining the cliches of the "smalltown girl moves to the big city to pursue career, encounters adversity and falls in love when she least expects it" genre. But I need to note for the record and to help out any similarly idealistic girls who may try to follow in Celeste's fictional footsteps: this is not a reflection of reality.

So, if you're in Bangor, Maine, as the eponymous Celeste was, and you decide to move to NYC to work at a fictional newspaper as a result of this movie, beware-- it builds unrealistic expectations.

According to the movie:
* When you move to NYC you are issued your own personal team of gay makeover consultants (including Buffy graduate Nicholas Brendon and former teen pop sensation Debbie Gibson, who for some reason looks like a man) who first insult your hair and your fashion sense, and then go all QUEER EYE on your sorry, broke, idealistic ass. You are at first, insulted, then embrace their love for couture and find the money for a high-end wardrobe, and take a stand for career and womanhood by having your frizzy hair professionally straightened and switching your glasses for contact lenses.

* You move into a rat-infested apartment above a karaoke bar where all anyone seems to sing is “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” you have a cute, but sweet and approachable neighbor who won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk and who can help you refurbish said rat-trap into a rent-controlled palace of ultimate fabulosity.

* Once you have said makeovers of both self and domicile, you immediately get invited to high-profile industry parties, just because you are now slim and tailored, people can now observe “the real you” and your ideas and talents can truly shine, talents that were being obscured by a meek and nerdy façade.

* At the end of the day, you’ve figured out that the accomplished magazine mogul who feigns interest in your work is really out for the nookie, and suddenly, in a life-changing epiphany, realize that the skateboarding, heterosexual interior designer who lives next door is worth a thousand scheming “Big”s put together, and that he appreciated you back in the days when you were Plain Jane you.

What have I learned? I'm overdue. My team of fabulous gay makeover consultants must be delayed in traffic. But I'm being proactive. I'm going door-to-door to see if any of my neighbors are skateboarding, heterosexual interior designers, and figure we'll start from there.

A few notes about ABC Family's "CELESTE AND THE CITY"

Sunday night, I was switching between CHARMED, which has been so AlyssaMilanocentric that they should just rename the show ALYSSA AND HER SISTERS, and ABC Family's "original romantic comedy movie."

I know it's just mining the cliches of the "smalltown girl moves to the big city to pursue career, encounters adversity and falls in love when she least expects it" genre. But I need to note for the record and to help out any similarly idealistic girls who may try to follow in Celeste's fictional footsteps: this is not a reflection of reality.

So, if you're in Bangor, Maine, as the eponymous Celeste was, and you decide to move to NYC to work at a fictional newspaper as a result of this movie, beware-- it builds unrealistic expectations.

According to the movie:
* When you move to NYC you are issued your own personal team of gay makeover consultants (including Buffy graduate Nicholas Brendon and former teen pop sensation Debbie Gibson, who for some reason looks like a man) who first insult your hair and your fashion sense, and then go all QUEER EYE on your sorry, broke, idealistic ass. You are at first, insulted, then embrace their love for couture and find the money for a high-end wardrobe, and take a stand for career and womanhood by having your frizzy hair professionally straightened and switching your glasses for contact lenses.

* You move into a rat-infested apartment above a karaoke bar where all anyone seems to sing is “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” you have a cute, but sweet and approachable neighbor who won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk and who can help you refurbish said rat-trap into a rent-controlled palace of ultimate fabulosity.

* Once you have said makeovers of both self and domicile, you immediately get invited to high-profile industry parties, just because you are now slim and tailored, people can now observe “the real you” and your ideas and talents can truly shine, talents that were being obscured by a meek and nerdy façade.

* At the end of the day, you’ve figured out that the accomplished magazine mogul who feigns interest in your work is really out for the nookie, and suddenly, in a life-changing epiphany, realize that the skateboarding, heterosexual interior designer who lives next door is worth a thousand scheming “Big”s put together, and that he appreciated you back in the days when you were Plain Jane you.

What have I learned? I'm overdue. My team of fabulous gay makeover consultants must be delayed in traffic. But I'm being proactive. I'm going door-to-door to see if any of my neighbors are skateboarding, heterosexual interior designers, and figure we'll start from there.