Leaving The Office

I never expected The Office to last nine seasons. But I guess that's just a testament to the show's staying power.

The fact that Dwight says "again" gets me every time

I know that fans of the BBC original balked at the idea of an Americanized remake of a show that needed no remakes or improvements. Ricky Gervais created a series that was painfully funny and just realistic enough to be relatable. It's that sort of realism that drove the US remake: NBC wanted to make a show with the same spirit, that American audiences could laugh at and relate to. They didn't go for really big stars or a laugh track - they just tried to capture part of the reason why we loved the original so much. I'd say they succeeded. Few other shows on TV right now have been able to sell me a zany plotline or an over-the-top character and made me forget that I was just watching television. The Office gave me the kind of comfort that we usually get from old-school sitcoms. I've grown up with it, and it feels really strange to go into next fall without 30 Rock or The Office.

When The Office premiered, I was a teenaged film student whose projects somehow always ended up being documentaries. The show's format appealed to me. I ended up explaining the stylistic differences between The Office and Arrested Development to more people than I expected. (Yes, I was a huge nerd.) The first season was a tad shaky while it found its footing, but it showed a lot of promise and delivered some great laughs. Not unlike me at seventeen, actually.

Season 2 fulfilled the potential that I saw in Season 1. During that season, I found out that a fellow TV fan had had the chance to interview Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski on her blog, Give Me My Remote. That interview was my first introduction to the blogosphere. I kept reading GMMR regularly, and it ended up being one of the reasons why I started Hab It Her Way. (The Office has been in my life for longer than Carey Price has. Holy crap.)

Jim kissing Pam at the end of Season 2 was a game-changer. I remember the day I watched that episode oddly well, considering that nothing else of note actually happened. After that, I realized just how the show can reflect real life. That sometimes we feel forced to stay somewhere, or even to move on, against our will. That our actions have consequences, and that sometimes things happen that we can't control.

I had to watch "The Injury" four or five times before I caught all the jokes.
I missed a lot of them while I was laughing.

At some point in season 3 or 4, I entered a contest and won a Dwight bobblehead. I still have it (of course) but I refuse to keep it at my desk at work, for fear it might break.
I cried at Jim and Pam's wedding. I used to think that people who cried at weddings were lame, and now I've become one.
I wrote a character for a short film project, and I whipped up a few paragraphs to describe for the actors who were to come in and audition, but it basically boiled down to "Angela from The Office." One woman who auditioned had never watched the show, but nailed at least half of Angela's facial expressions. We cast her on the spot.
I had Office quote-offs with one of my friends in university. "You always left me smiling and satisfied!"

I watched as characters who'd been relegated to the background started to come forth and get their own arcs. I watched as the writers found relatively effective ways to incorporate product placement because the evil network told them to. Centering a Christmas episode around an iPod was more believable, and less egregious, than every time an ABC drama has ever tried to sell me a car. This is probably because despite the gradual prettying-up of the show, and the improbable stories, The Office reflected real life. The product placement just reflected our real-life use of, and desire for, new products.

The show's realism is not only what makes it funny, but also what makes it oddly tragic. People want what they can't have. Sometimes they have to make difficult decisions. Sometimes they grow up, or grow old, and their dreams change. This, I guess, is how I've grown up with the show. I've gone from just watching it to actually relating to it. I've gone from being a bright-eyed student to someone who listlessly checks her email and attends party planning committee meetings. I take strange delight in office pranks and Secret Santa. I spend my days under fluorescent lighting, wondering if this is my job or my career. But, if anything, this all reflects one last lesson I can learn from the show: that I should never be a victim of circumstance, and make the best of what I have. Everyone on the show seems to be happier when they do.

Real life is more likely to feel like the bad stuff drags on too long than wrap itself up in a perfect 2-hour finale. But I'm happy in this case that The Office is just a TV show.

An Open Letter to Mindy Kaling

Dear Mindy:

First of all, I want to say that I really liked the first season of The Mindy Project. It's like, an extension of your book, you know? But not really, because it's fictionalized and stuff, and there are no secret jabs at that girl from 30 Rock... unless, is that what that whole subplot in the Thanksgiving episode was about? Anyway, not important, because you know I'm on Team Mindy, and not Team Random Blonde Girl (even though it totally sucks that she's nice!)

So far, a bunch of my favourite things about your book have shown up on The Mindy Project, like how much you love romantic comedies and how hilarious you are and the whole "plus-size" debate and the whole men vs. boys debate. I loved the random athlete cameos (even though it seems like the show may finally have closed the book on Josh, so that's probably over now.) I look forward to the episode that makes fun of guys for taking so long to put on their shoes (seriously, though what is up with that?). Also, I'd like to thank you profusely for putting Chris Messina on my television every week, for reasons that I don't need to elaborate on. (But since you asked: It's because I have like this illness where the only symptom is that I just really really want to marry Chris Messina. It's very serious and there is no cure. I was almost hospitalized during the triathlon episode. Regardless of that fact, it will never be deleted from my DVR probably ever, not even after they invent something to replace the DVR, which would be crazy, right?)

I'm writing you this letter because I need to apologize to you. Something really bad happened, and I feel awful about it, and I haven't really been able to talk about it. 

I had taken the dust jacket off of my copy of Is Everybody Hanging Out Without Me? because it was easier to carry around in my purse that way, but it also makes it harder to recognize when it's just lying on a table or something. A couple of weeks ago, there was this really gross spider in my room and I grabbed the closest expendable book to squish it. I really really thought that it was this crappy book I wasted $2 on called A Smart Girl's Guide to Sports, which is actually for dumb girls and talks more about hardwood floors than it does about basketball, but then after I had defeated the scariest spider ever, I realized that it wasn't. I'm really, really sorry for accidentally smearing your book with the remains of a spider. I'm just gonna keep the dust jacket on it from now on.

Do you think you'll be able to forgive me, and also maybe say hi to Chris Messina for me?

Best,

Rookie

PS: I know Season 1 isn't over yet but I can't wait to see Season 2.

Playoff mode

The NHL playoffs make me want to be a better fan.

It's like how everyone treats the playoffs as a second season. Like how the players stick to even stricter diets and such, making sure to take care of the bodies that get bruised up on the ice. I'm trying to be in the best shape possible just to watch the postseason.

I started planning for the playoffs, when I normally don't plan for anything. At all.

I ran as many errands as I could before the playoffs started. Time is precious in the post-season, and it can't be wasted buying toothpaste or picking up drycleaning. I started my spring cleaning early - by which I mostly mean that I cleaned out my purse, anticipating a sea of discarded pub receipts and post-it notes, and three more tubes of lip gloss (in addition to the two that were already in there.) I did my taxes. I did my laundry. And now I'm a whole new person.

I wake up early. 

I get to work early so that I can leave early. 

I have my Starbucks card at the ready in case I don't sleep enough and need caffeine. 

I make my lunches the night before - cheap, healthy lunches to offset the emotional eating and pints of cider that hockey tends to cause. 

I plan my outfits the night before, too, and then actually wear them instead of pulling something else out of the closet at the last minute. 

I don't wear pencil skirts on game days, because I learned the hard way that they limit my mobility when trying to run home for puck drop. 

I keep track of which Habs T-shirts are lucky these days and which ones aren't.

I make to-do lists at work. 

I delegate instead of micromanaging, because it's more efficient. 

I use those organizer apps and figure out the quickest way and the best time to get everything done, instead of just forgetting to do something for two days in a row. 

I decide on the days and times that I go to the gym - it would be ironic for me to miss a workout because I'd rather watch a bunch of professional athletes charge towards each other at breakneck speeds. 

I do laundry and dishes and all that important stuff during commercial breaks and intermissions. 

I try to keep up with hockey news, despite a no-cellphones policy at my office. 

I try not to let the temporary insanity of sixteen fanbases get to me. 

I try to figure out how to watch all of the hockey and everything on TV and also sleep.

I'm basically turning into my best self. Maybe this is what Tracy Jordan meant when he said "Live every week like it's Shark Week."

Lessons from Trade Deadline Day

What I already knew:

Some people like comparing in-season trades to Christmas shopping. I think it makes perfect sense. The best acquisitions are usually made days or weeks in advance, but the real scramble doesn't happen until hours before closing time. Everyone wakes up on the morning of Trade Deadline Day (aka the last shopping day before Christmas), spends about five minutes catching up on what (if anything) happened overnight, then settles in for what should be a big day - but isn't. A trade might happen here or there, but for the most part, GMs aren't engaging in the kind of all-day, player-swapping frenzy that fans have come to expect. Then fans get bored, the serious guys on TSN try to find ways to fill time, Jay Onrait does something goofy, and James Duthie wavers between witty and serious. Things get really boring around lunchtime, and everyone is hungry and cranky and thinks it's the worst trade deadline ever, until about an hour before the actual deadline. Then, GMs get frantic and realize they're running out of time. They start trading anything and everything. Some moves are really smart and interesting and others maybe aren't. But it's a trading frenzy because, like the last hour of shopping before Christmas, people have to buy SOMETHING. And all of a sudden fans take back everything they said, and they think that trade deadline day is exciting again, and they all tweet "Everything is happening!" at the exact same time.

This is what happens every year.

What I didn't know:

Wade Redden is still playing hockey?

Programming note

It's been far too long since I updated this blog, especially with hockey content. I've been trying to limit my computer time outside of work for health reasons, so let's just pretend that I'm on injured reserve. I hope to be back soon to help punish anyone who tries to take down Brendan Gallagher.

My PaleyFest 2013: Tuesday Night Live

I'm not in Los Angeles for PaleyFest - an annual television festival with nightly panel discussions featuring the cast and creators of popular shows - this year. So I'm just imagining what I'd do if I was there.

I'm a little behind, so here are recaps of what happened at the panels on two Tuesday night comedies.

Night 5: The New Normal

(I skipped Night 4, and it was a Community panel, and the Internet will never forgive me, even if I make them all necklaces with @ signs on them.)

Sometimes it's fun to go to a panel of a show that you don't really care for, just to get a sense of how other people respond to it. That's what The New Normal is for me. The humour doesn't really resonate with me, but interestingly enough, it's quite reminiscent of a few well-loved classic comedies that didn't resonate with me, either. Regardless, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to see Ryan Murphy in person.

Ryan Murphy has a creative mind like no other - Popular, Nip/Tuck, and Glee are proof of that. (Not the show that you think Glee is. The show that it should be. Yes, there's a difference.) And, from what I had heard, he has this weird, manic, creative energy, which I just had to see for myself. Plus, Andrew Rannells is hilarious on Girls, and I figure he's probably hilarious in real-life, too.

Oh, and did I mention that the panel was moderated by John Stamos?

John Stamos was there. Some people said some stuff. I did not get to meet John Stamos, and I walked away disappointed, like George Michael Bluth.

Night 7: The Mindy Project

Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows that I really, really like Mindy Project star Chris Messina. I didn't think he would do TV, ever, nor did I think that this show would get a second season because not enough people realize how genuinely funny it is. I was wrong on both counts.

Mindy Kaling is sweet and hilarious, the kind of person I wish I could be friends with. (We could go on shopping trips with Emma Stone and Jennifer Lawrence! As long as I don't have to buy a sequined sweater like the one she was wearing, because I do not want one.) She's assembled a great cast. Beth Grant's character doesn't really do it for me, but the actress is hilarious. Ed Weeks is just as charming as he is on the show, but he's nowhere near as smarmy or as strange. Ike Barinholz's sense of humour showed just how much he adds to the show, when I erroneously thought that he wouldn't have been a good addition to the cast.

I basically just stared at Chris Messina the whole time and laughed when I found out that the writer's room is extremely divided on whether his character should get together with Mindy.

I tried to get Mindy's attention after the panel to tell her that I enjoyed her book (more on that in a later post), but I didn't get to, and that made me sad. So I asked myself, what would Mindy do? And made myself feel better by doing a bit of online shopping.

My PaleyFest 2013: The Newsroom

I'm not in Los Angeles for PaleyFest - an annual television festival with nightly panel discussions featuring the cast and creators of popular shows - this year. So I'm just imagining what I'd do if I was there.

Night 3 (Part 2): The Newsroom

Oh man, have I been waiting for this. I hate this show so much. I like watching television because it's an inanimate object that can't be condescending towards me, and yet Aaron Sorkin manages to ruin that. He claims that smart girls have more fun, but I have a feeling that if my IQ were lower, I might not notice the speechifying and the relentless misogyny that he's so incredibly fond of.

And to top it off, it was moderated by Piers Morgan, a man whose purpose I have yet to understand.

I may hate this show, but I made sure to get front-row seats to this panel. Why? Because it was scripted that Sorkin would call on me to ask a question and exactly recreate the opening scene of the pilot, because that's his idea of meta humour? No. (But that happened, by the way.) It was so that I could create a character out of his now-infamous interview with a Globe and Mail reporter: Internet Girl!

Internet Girl isn't a superhero, but she can be. She wears a dress, because she's a girl. Maybe her dress looks like this:

Maybe she had her Twitter handle screen-printed onto the hem of it. Maybe she wears Tina Fey glasses and pearl earrings and a necklace with an @ sign on it.* Maybe there's a newspaper and a Criterion blu-ray in her purse, because she reads newspapers (when the journalists aren't being insufferable) and she watches films. Oh, and maybe she's covering up her tattoo of Nyan Cat.

*I actually have pendants with @ signs on them, somewhere, I think. So if anyone wants a necklace, I might be able to oblige.

However, Internet Girl isn't at the panel to find out more about how the main character, a white man, is "on a mission to civilize." She learned that already in history books, and it didn't end very well. And she's not there to get spoilers for season 2, because Michael Ausiello or Kristin Dos Santos will provide those anyway. (That's what the Internet is for.) No, she's just there to sarcastically live-tweet the whole thing on her iPad, which happens to have this picture printed onto its case:

She ignores most of the cast's ramblings anyway, because who needs a bunch of fake news media personalities patting themselves on the back for discussing The Big Issues that plagued America two years ago? She mostly went to see if Chris Messina would show up, because he's the closest thing she had to a reason to watch the show. (She doesn't care about Olivia Munn's legs.)

She does her best to rile Sorkin up, and while all of the yes-men rush the stage to laud the cast and whatnot, she attempts to high-five him, since he famously hates girls who can't high-five. (No word on boys, though.)

Oh, and she ignored Alison Pill, who looks awfully happy for someone who allegedly just broke off her engagement to Jay Baruchel.