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| You have been flattened by: Home > Entertainment | August 20th |
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 American Midol: Desperate Housewives of the World, Unite!Nov 17 2004 by Lani Voivod
Ladies and Gentlemen: We have a BUZZ in our midst.Not empty hype, nor forced PR, but a true-blue, verifiable BUZZ. A new target market has been tapped and tapped well, and this market is responding with big, fat collagen-free SWAKs of gratitude. I speak of the real DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES among us. Look, I won't lie to you. Perhaps my radar is more attuned to this than, say, NASCAR-mania, or the latest craze in pheasant-hunting. After all, I DO fit the profile – I'm married, I've got a kid, I kibitz with other mommies at our library's "Storytime" and I even revel in the world of muffin-munching, sippy-cup-slurping playdates. So maybe it's not a coincidence that I've been seeing a lot of normally well-behaved women reveal sides of themselves in polite company that would make Angelina Jolie blush heartily. Sex-toy bravado. Dark tales of disciplinary apocalypse. Confessions of wedlock wanderlust. Unapologetic use of synthetic mood stabilizers. And the time-honored stand-bys – good old-fashioned marital and maternal ennui. Nonetheless, throngs of former Oprah fans are ditching their Cloaks of Empowered Optimism for the Flannel Nightgowns of Hurried, Harried, Buy-Me-Give-Me-Get-Me-Drive-Me-Feed-Me-Love-Me-Now-Get-Lost Despondency, and we're doing it with a mostly-mad cackle. For so long we've been force-fed perky and easily annoyed sidekick housewives – inevitably married to tubalumps of failed boyish charm – and we've had to eat it without a chaser. Now, however, the media are FINALLY catering the party for those of us who could actually use some grand escapism and validation – women on the verge of psychotic breakdowns, with spit-up on our Mizrahi crewneck tees and Play-Doh on our coordinating yoga pants (pants that haven't been to a yoga class in three years, by the way!). We're tired, sexually-frustrated TiVo-addicts, and we're starting to perk up. Thank you, ABC. Even though your cast of vixens are far too perfect to accurately represent us, they're entertaining us. And at the end of our world-weary day, that's as good as a foot rub and brim-filled goblet of two-buck Chuck. Calgon – thy new name is Sunday night. Ahhhhh... Related Articles American Midol: Desperate Housewives of the World, Unite! Nov 17 2004
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