10/30/06 conversation:
Me: “I’m obsessed with Sandy’s bagel slicer. Ooh! Can you please feature it prominently in a scene this season?”
Josh Schwartz: “Because you’ve requested it, yes.”

Q&A
finale recap
Hot Pocket?

I wrote this little O.C. Appreciation column for today.

Finale is tonight. OH MY GOD WILL YOU WATCH?

Fresh (actually, a few weeks stale like the English muffins in my fridge) out of the PopWatch oven:

Who dat?

Why yes! I’d buy a crate of pickles ‘n’ cream popsicles from this fiiiine man.

Who is this stud selling Schick razors in a 1980 commercial? Take your time guessing, if you even need to, which you shouldn’t.

Click here for the answer and to watch the video.

For season 3 recaps of The O.C. and links to briefer recaps of season 4, visit Annie’s O.C. Page.

Hmph. I’m kind of a stressball lately. Writing-wise, here’s a smattering of what I’ve been up to:

My Q&A with Donald Faison from Scrubs goes up this morning. A-listers will appreciate how I managed to work the assertion “I’m cool” into the interview. Premiere is tonight. DVR that shiz.

Ha. I feel like that’s less pushy then telling you to “watch” it. The concept of watching something on time or becuase you’re supposed to has become overbearing lately, at least for me. You’re committed. You’re, like, watching something. Just record it! Then forget, ignore, gape at, and revisit the left-behind list at will. It’s a beautiful thing. My life is pathetic.

I launched a PopWatch thread that may or may not take off: One of the Best and Worst Things Ever. Up first: the video for Alanis Morissette’s 1991 “Walk Away.” Yes, that’s Joey. He was even worse back then.

Something I never thought I’d even begin to care about: People’s 2006 Sexiest Man Alive. I did an OMG Who Should It Be? list. Who am I? I have no idea.

Gladly returning back to typical DR Mode…. I became unnaturally obsessed with the promos for ABC’s Show Me the Money, wherein William Shatner wiggles his alarmingly sturdy body across a stage and that’s supposed to make us want to watch a game show. First, ABC tried to make shat-as-a-verb happen. No. Then, after the Dancing With the Stars finale, they decided The Shat could be a dance. STOP.
– Things That Make Me Die Inside (Vol. 4) (I took the photo! Big loser!)
– Will someone please get William Shatner a toilet? (Again!)

This one’s a fave: I co-wrote Tom and Katie’s fictional wedding vows with my ab-fab fellow blogger, Michael Slezak. He’s Tom, I’m Katie. We fought over it.

You absolutely need to click on this nasty slash awesome but really just incredibly nasty pic of Rod Stewart. You’re welcome. For ruining your day.

My shorter, for some reason not as funny as last year’s O.C. writeups have also been on PopWatch every Friday afternoon. They’re hard work. The switching-one-word-of-a-lame-title headlines don’t write themselves, people.
4.1 “The Distance” — How Ryan got his groove back
4.2 “The Gringos” — Once upon a time in Mexico
4.3 “The Cold Turkey” — Everyone misses She Who Will Not Be Named
4.4 “The Avengers” — So Julie Cooper thinks she can dance?

I absolutely refuse to address the abomination that is Tyra Banks this cycle. This guy’s good at it. That is all.

I really am still blogging, I swear! Here’s a smattering of proof.

–‘The O.C.’: “Help us!” Love, the Cohens

–The Constantine: Everybody else is wearing it, so why can’t you?

–Dancin’ Dave Price may be the next Bob Barker. Who knew I’d ever have a chance to plug the only video I’ve ever made? No one! You idiots! NOTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON. Or is it everything happens for no reason? Not everything happens for a reason? Longer treatise on this to come.

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Center-aligned asterisks make me seem so prolific!

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This was 2006’s installment of the “Tangled Up in Blue” Halloween costume (founded in 2001 by DR correspondent “Mughan” Dunn). Definitely my worst effort to date. Blatant lack of feathers. Zero leg action. Tiny bit of yarn and a scarf. Pizza.

I realized three years into the costume that maybe 50% of the people I encounter on Halloween weekend have ever actively listened to Bob Dylan… and only 30% of those people recognize the title “Tangled Up in Blue.” My friend TG, who’s seen the costume three times now, had no idea I was ever supposed to be a song. “I thought you just liked that yarn,” he said. But he was right — that’s really the whole point of the outfit anyway. I cannot get enough of that ball of yarn. Next year, I won’t even bother with the explanation.

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IS THIS YOUR VAN?

I need it. We totally bonded.

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O.C. fans will want to check out this EW.com interview I did with series creator Josh Schwartz. I especially like my really lame but fitting caption. It contains the term “forest for the trees” — an idiom I really only started “getting” last year, despite having owned and read a book called “The Forest for the Trees” in 2002. I’m smart.

Okay, slight problem. I will really miss gazing at Mischa Barton. I’m not kidding.

Don’t get me wrong — I thought Marissa was vile. But I still appreciated her face, frame, and hair. Who wouldn’t? She’s a dream. The O.C. made it so easy for people like me to have a relatively good excuse to stare at Mischa for an hour (the show was usually all about her — agonizing, but easy on the eyes) while exerting the least possible amount of effort. (Did you guys know that? Watching TV is easy.) What are we supposed to do now? Google image search that bitch? Rent The Sixth Sense? See whatever awful movie she makes next in all her emancipated glory? Watch avideo of her pushing Nicole Richie around in a shopping cart?

Fat chance, Mischa. Yeah, that’s right: Fat. Eat a pancake.

Someone should market a Mischa Barton slideshow of sorts. Not a calendar, nothing like that. Just basic photographs of Mischa in expensive, cool clothes — a slideshow that would change maybe every few hours. (But only when it was switched on, like a desk lamp. It’s not like I’d look at it all the time. Just whenever I wanted to).

Or, if I was the richest person ever, I could hire her to just sit in front of me, or show up wherever I happen to go. Like if I’m walking down the street, she’ll be walking the other way. No big deal, just “Oh, there’s Mischa.” Yet again. Just my luck!

She’d always have to be expertly styled — that’s the catch. I’d want her to do what she always did on the show: make me feel dowdy, large, and hopelessly unfashionable. I don’t want to miss out on this now that Marissa’s dead, and I fear that I might. Who will I love/hate to idolize now?

Nope. I’m voting slideshow instead of in-house existence. Seeing her in person — seeing anyone in person, actually — would be incredibly awkward. That’s not even what I want. Excluding special cases, I typically don’t like having to deal with actual human life. I’m confident that I’d never want to talk to Mischa, or do anything with her. I just want to be able to stare at her if I feel like it. A slideshow of her, looking good in different outfits. It’s not so much to ask.

I just received confirmation via my life partner — my Time Warner DVR device — that I’m not just a generic big loser, but I am the biggest loser. Check it out: late last night, I decided I should record Wednesday night’s Grammy Awards in order to stay up on pop culture and catch the Madonna/Gorillaz collaboration.

But, ROADBLOCK!

In addition to reminding me that “Yes, you complete tool, you wanted to tape a show about fat people losing weight, and not even the serial version but a freaking special edition of this craptastic show”… the very title of said show served to inform me that “Hey, Annie, there you have it. You are The Biggest Loser to ever own and operate a DVR.”

Saving grace: the CNN thing in the corner is like a bonus reference to Julie Cooper’s new lodgings on The O.C.!

If you’ll excuse me, I have to go eat ten pounds of turkey bacon and then work out for three hours on an elliptical trainer. NOTE TO BIGGEST LOSER CONTESTANTS: Guess how normal people lose weight? They stop eating ten pounds of turkey bacon. There, I said it. Good luck.

Apologies in advance: I don’t get to write about The O.C. anymore (I’ve moved on to covering a far more ridiculous show), so I’m gonna do it right here. Instead of covering the entire episode, I’ll just be focusing on something really small (annoying, even!) and apply it to my own life because HELLO! It’s what I do. I’m cool.

Last night on The O.C., Marissa and her on-again/off-again sister Kaitlin were chillin’ out by the pier, because that’s what all cool girls do in Newport Beach mid-morning, and Kaitlin told some long-winded story — that was actually a lot like this sentence — about how when they were younger, Marissa could never decide on which flavor of ice cream to order at Baskin Robbins.

I was immediately intrigued, for many reasons. 1) These two actresses probably haven’t even eaten ice cream since they were around six. 2) That’s a really funny product placement, even if it’s only a Mention. And 3) Baskin Robbins was my favorite ice cream store when I was younger, and the more things on TV that can relate to Annie Barrett’s Own Life, the better! Also 4) Baskin Robbins made the Clown Cones I’ve written about before. You remember, right? (I’m basically talking to myself here, so yes, Annie, I totally remember that! It was such an awesome entry.)

Anyway, the story 14 year-old Kaitlin told was funny because I can totally picture someone as annoying as Marissa wanting to sample all 31 of the flavors before making her final decision. Imagine my shock and awe when I realized that Kaitlin was actually describing my life! See, Kaitlin, who bragged that she always got Gold Medal Ribbon because she “knew” that she “loved it,” is like my friend Kara, who in the hundreds of times we must have gone to Baskin Robbins NEVER ordered anything except Gold Medal Ribbon. She knew about it from day one, even before I’d ever been to the store with her. It was like she’d claimed that territory as part of her America. I’d always be a little jealous, becuase I too liked GMR. She was right — it never disappointed. It was just something you could count on, like running water or Ryan Atwood.

So Kara would choose Gold Medal Ribbon. They’d give it to her and she’d stand there all smug, totally happy with her decision. Smart as a whip, that Kara. Such conviction at such a young age. Meanwhile, I’d be sweating (literally… I wasn’t even fat, but I did sweat a lot as a preteen) while touring the rest of the flavors. If I got Gold Medal Ribbon, I’d be a copycat, but if I got something I didn’t like as much, I’d hate Kara and myself for the rest of that day. Sometimes I went with rainbow sherbet or a Clown Cone or even this other flavor they had called World Class Chocolate that always always always sat right on top of GMR. It was brutal. Sure, I liked World Class Chocolate, but I never once got to order GMR if Kara was there because I thought she’d get mad at me. Why didn’t I just order it first, or pretend like I didin’t remember that it was her favorite flavor? Nah, she’d be onto me in a second. Smart as a whip, like I said.

Wow, Annie, another killer graphic.

What the F is the point of this? It’s right here: I hate Marissa. And now I’m LIKE Marissa. It follows that I now hate myself. Great! Time for this week’s Query Chart, or what people searched online that made them find this site.

Yesssss. larry king’s chili and i hate oprah are welcome additions to the list, which 100% of the time includes the query “butt crack.” I am an amazing writer and a prominent thinker of my time.

Speaking of phrases like “of my time,” how absolutely offensive is it that in this year’s Survivor, they broke up the women and men into older and younger groups? One of the women, Cirie, was like “I thought I was young!” while the graphic below her name said she belonged to the OLDER WOMEN group. Yikes. I also think producers planted that fish in the rocks so Tina could find it, bring it back to camp, be seen as even more of a threat, and get BOOTED!

The Office was really good last night, too.

But I don’t really like TV.

Yesterday was my last day at EW. Tear! There was a cupcakes ‘n’ champagne feast in my honor. I couldn’t believe it! Just kidding. I expected no less, damnit. Since everyone I know has asked me at least five times, yes, I will get to keep writing the O.C. stuff. Yay!

Speaking of which, there’s an O.C. commercial playing on Fox about every 20 minutes that features a quote - OUT OF CONTEXT, I tell you - from my last commentary. Apparently the producers agreed that last week’s ep was “what critics are calling ‘the absolute best show in the history of television’” and are replaying it again this week. In about 20 minutes, actually. It’s exciting to be featured on TV, but how embarrassing is that particular quote? I was exaggerating! And I’d gone on to say “…or at least on Fox in 2005.” Hmmm. I wonder why they didn’t use the whole sentence!

As I am now unemployed, consider this post an open letter to series creator Josh Schwartz (who apparently finds the nickname “Lindsbree” a hoot) for a sweet gig on his show out in L.A. Dude. I’m as reliable as a sunny day in Newport Beach. Sometimes. I also love bagels. Call me!

A comparison between Alex, a plastic-looking character on The O.C., and one of my favorite toys in the ’80s, My Little Pony:

You can’t see it, but the ponies have little tattoos all over them too. But they’re tattoos o’ innocence, like hearts, stars, and (probably) large, ugly insects. I want to meet whoever was in charge of hair for this episode so I can glare at her in much the same way as Alex is glaring at Seth in the photo. Oh, slutty teenage bartenders. Gotta love ‘em.