Tomorrow, I promise ...

Best intentions ... were put aside.

I woke up with the idea of not wasting another day. I'd write my resolutions for 2009, send out my resume, follow-up on past interviews with emails, bake something, save the world from plastic bags, and brush my hair. But I turned on the TV and all those plans got sucked into the digital pixels. When I was flush with money, I didn't worry about the evil box; I was out on the town, enjoying a show, play, opera, dinner with friends. Now I turn the damn thing on and I'm addicted ... 30 Rock, Pushing Daisies, and now a new threat .... Swingtown. 

While channel surfing as I cooked my noon breakfast, I landed on a Marathon showing of Swingtown. Soon the Farrah Fawcett hairdos, studly men, and come-hither acting style of Molly Parker sucked me in. When was this on? Wow, pool parties, key parties, bad polyester, very sexy men's swimsuits. Can that many people fit in one bed? And aren't all the cute male pilots gay? And is that Jack Davenport doing an American accent? Was this on Showtime or HBO? OMG! CBS? Do parents know this? Thank god I'm not a parent. And every time I tried pulling myself away, another episode comes on ... duh, marathon reference just kicking in. I don't care. It is just so much fun. I'm a voyeur in a swinging world, one I would never dream of stepping into. Heck, these characters have indulged themselves in more body gymnastics with more partners and combinations than I've seen in Cirque de Soliel. Will Susan really hook up with Roger? Will Trina keep the baby? Will the producers make sure to put Tom in more bathing suits?  Argh! I've gone 70s! 

While all the above may sound silly, like my addiction as a teenager to Days of Our Lives ... a weather machine? ... seriously, this is good stuff. The acting, the drama, the sex. The real bedrock for this better-than-eye-candy show is the strong writing. There is real tension and history squeezed into those bell-bottoms and short-shorts. Women were finding themselves, men were dealing with new roles as the women started wearing pants, social circles and class climbing threatened to divide and destroy. And what is truly impressing, in the TV age of bad un-reality fonder, are the strong characters, both male and female. Mike Kelly, the show's writer/creator, tries to bring his native Chicago into the mix but the city doesn't really rise to the level of supporting character. These suburban lives, the commute via train or car to the job in the city, that could be most any large American city, same American dream lives with the stay-at-home mom and the go-to-work dad. But unlike the 1950s or 1960s, this 'dream life' was deconstruction, and reconstructing into something new. 

I can't wait to see what the shape of things to come will look like. After all, Kelly can still play with the introduction of Apple computers, women in West Point, and the loss of red M&Ms. His use of Deep Throat in one episode, however, has me wondering, do I need to rent that now? Well, with the Patriot Act still out there, I think I'll keep that one off my rental history; never know, I might have to get a government job again.