Statesman > XL Blogs > Archives > 2005 > January > 26 > Entry
Paige, we hardly knew ye
“Ray”?
“RAY”?
Best picture?
Oh, come on.
Honestly.
Humph.
You know what “Ray” needed?
(And you know what I’m going to say.)
Zombies.
Think about it: “Ray of the Dead.”
(Confession: I stole that from a friend, but I’m still more creative than Taylor Hackford.)
Remember “Trading Spaces”? Yeah, I had to think for a minute there, too. But I bet you used to watch it a lot, and talk about it perhaps even more.
I have a feeling that things probably went pretty badly when the show ditched perky host Paige Davis this week. If there was anything I learned from reading “Paige by Paige” it’s that Paige Davis loves “Trading Spaces” with every ounce of her being and regards the show, and her role in it, with a reverence that would make even the Apostles seem a little lax about their job.
When we ponder Paige’s contributions to TV, we must also consider the somewhat notorious episode of TLC’s “A Wedding Story” in which she got hitched in Vegas to fellow musical-theater lover Patrick Page. Yes, that does make her Paige Page, but, as they used to remind us on Television Without Pity her full name is Mindy Paige Davis Page.
Canning Paige isn’t going to save the show. Not much could. Its moment passed a long time ago — such cable trifles aren’t meant for longevity. (Are you listening, “Queer Eye”?)
They won’t make it without you, Paige. Take comfort in that. They’re over. You — with your mighty winged hair, your tact even when faced with Crying Pam, your maudlin husband — YOU will prevail. And I for one will pause to honor you when the Paige Cam goes dark for the last time.
I haven’t seen “We Don’t Live Here” but I’m pretty sure that the couples in it could not be more dysfunctional than the late and unlamented Jonathan and Victoria who terrorized “The Amazing Race.”
The two of them were not reality “characters” viewers loved to hate. They were . . . well, just hated. A measure of how evil they are: They provoked my beloved Phil Keoghan, normally a man of few words, but of deeply meaningful disapproving glares, to utter this:
“We all know that it doesn’t matter whether it’s reality or drama, at the end of the day it’s about character development and human emotion. That’s what makes good TV. Otherwise you end up with vanilla TV. You end up with blandness. We want rum raisin. We want the mint flavor and the other thing with the shmookie cookie things.”
The schmookie cookie things? This hurts me, Phil.
When I was a kid, I used to record world events in my journal, I guess just in case it was the only surviving document of the Challenger disaster and the rise of Madonna. I’ve gotten a lot more self-centered over the years, but Sunday night I felt moved to write down that Johnny Carson had died.
Diane is spot-on when she praises Carson’s graceful, modest handling of his fame.
I adore “Strange Love” as much as the next girl, but I’m also sad for the mystery, the glamour that fame has lost. I don’t want celebrities to have sponsors for their weddings. I want them to be swank and swell, a little naughty and never self-important. Carson nailed that mix.
Now just because I disapprove of celebs with sponsored weddings doesn’t mean I didn’t pore over the new In Style with the infamous Star Jones nuptials and plenty more. Outside of Star, everything was pretty tasteful, except for the entire concept of Billy Joel marrying a 23-year-old. The wedding issue used to offer absolutely awe-inspiring displays of tackiness, like Ian and Nikki Ziering’s wedding cake that told the story of their courtship. (I’m still shocked that things didn’t work out for those kids. Shocked.)
Instead, there was Ziering’s old “90210” classmate Tori Spelling looking all classy and sweet. No wonder she got almost everything she wanted at Williams-Sonoma. (And many thanks to the friend who turned me on to the vice of searching celebrity wedding registries online.)
Weeks without a shoe-related injury: one.
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