Movies in Bed: Drop Dead Diva

Post by Josh Zinn.

One of the biggest embarrassments I ever experienced as a child was believing that other people would be as interested in celebrating the birthday of my dog, Whiskers, as I was. In my mind, it was plainly obvious that my faithful companion was more than deserving of a celebration marking his fourth/twenty-eighth year; thus, I spent hours hand-crafting invitations for each person in my third-grade class (minus that smelly girly, Felicia, who had scabs all over her arms, sucked the liquid out of dandelion stems, and always wore too much rayon). Alas, however, even the promise of confections, canines, and Nintendo wasn’t enough to lure a single one of my so-called “friends” away from their Heathcliff and Inspector Gadget reruns. I was devastated; Whiskers nonplussed. We both ate a lot of cake.

I was reminded of this massive mongrel mistake recently whilst watching the television show Drop Dead Diva. Though a program about a beautiful but vapid model that dies in a horrific car crash and is reincarnated as a brilliant but overweight lawyer might not initially appear to have much in common with the trials and tribulations of a boy and his birthday dog, similarities abound. Case in point: Neither the lawyer, Jane, nor Whiskers are able to find much love in a cold, cruel world that dismisses them as second-class citizens based upon their outward appearance. Point 2: Jane has a guardian angel that feeds her nuggets of advice while Whiskers was fed nuggets of chicken by his guardian angel, me! Point 3: Jane pines for her modeling days and beloved boyfriend, Grayson. Whiskers, on the other hand, pined for the rubber pork chops he had chewed up alongside several of my beloved Chewbacca action figures. It’s all just too uncanny!

Drop Dead Diva is about as intellectual, thought provoking, and stimulating as its witty-by-way-of-secretaries-having-margarita-night-at-Chili’s-and-sloshily-coming-up-with-it title suggests. Like my dog’s deserted birthday party, it’s one of those programs that appears (and probably is) empty and sad, but is nonetheless filled with semi-delicious cake that you can gorge on when no one else is there to witness your rapid descent into self-pity. Sometimes, when you and your dog are dramatically ruminating over the meaning of friendship, a little junk food is the only guest you need.

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