I was reminded last night of just how unhip I am. I labor under no delusions of hipness, but that I was alerted to this tragic flaw in my personality predominantly by strangers was a new and unexpected experience.
I have a teenager and, as a result, am no stranger to having sentences like, “Oh, my God, Mom. That’s so 2010!” or “Are you going to wear THAT? Did you get that at your high school graduation?” or, even, the perennial favorite, “Mom, you are sooooooooooo embarrassing!” tossed my way.
A large part of my problem is that I don’t always keep up with what’s trending. Not that long ago I was taken to task at the mall (of all places!) by said teenager when I couldn’t stop myself from chiming in on a conversation that two young ladies were having about how “orange is the new black”.(My teenager would later describe it as “butting in”.)
“Orange?!?”, I gasped. “Really? Is that a fact?”, I queried. Of course I didn’t stop there. I had to plow ahead with “What happened to brown being the new black? I kind of liked how they were pairing it with the pinks and the blues. I thought it was nice. Ah, well. I’m glad I bought that scarf when I had the chance! I’m not happy about orange, though, I’ll tell you that!”, I lamented with a sigh.
The horrible visions of pumpkin-colored accessories that were swirling around my head were quickly interrupted by my daughter’s admonishments. She felt compelled to inform me that, as usual, I had no idea what I was talking about. This (not) new information was dispensed with as much eye-rolling, head shaking, and sighing as could be mustered at a moment’s notice in a public place. As it turns out — and some of you may know this already — “Orange is the New Black” is a television show, a dramedy about, of all things, a women’s prison not, as I had incorrectly surmised, a fashion trend.
I’ve since caught a couple of episodes of the show and rather enjoyed them. This was a pleasant surprise. I like when a new series captures my attention — because it doesn’t happen often. I tend to rely upon the tried and true where my television viewing habits are concerned. It was this very practice that alerted virtual strangers and even some friends to my nearly pathological unhipness.
Sometimes I have been known to tweet or to update my Facebook status during live programming, usually I engage in this type of thing during annual events like The Grammy’s or The Oscars. I would do it for The Tony’s, but who would care?
Outside of awards show broadcasts or the Super Bowl, I will, on rare occasions, share my thoughts via social media when something that I consider noteworthy happens on television — if The Mets do something sensational, for example. Luckily for my followers and friends, this doesn’t happen too often. I don’t, like some people I know, tend to flood my feed with how I, like Holmes, had known from the giddyup that it was Mr. Mustard in the drawing room with a candlestick, following an episode of “Elementary”!
Last night, however, while watching “American Idol”, I thought it would be a splendid idea if I shared my impressions of one of the contestants — Alex Preston — with my little corner of the Internet. I am of the opinion that he is the most talented young person in the competition this year. Understated and not given to flashiness, he’s the dark horse.
I was hoping that someone, other than me, felt the same way about him. That’s all I was after — a little camaraderie. And I got that — from ONE person. The remainder of the conversation was more along the lines of “OMG, r u still watching THAT?” Why, yes. Yes, I am. Wasn’t that obvious? Some folks threw in a “BAHAHAHAHA!” or a “LMAO!” for good measure or, perhaps, just to be one of the crowd. Even the mockers and the haters, it seemed, were also looking for a little camaraderie.
If this was the reaction to my continued affection for “American Idol”, I don’t even want to know what’s going to happen when I put down my tissues and wipe the tears from my eyes following the series finale of “Glee”. (I’m already hoping for a reunion special!) I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll be crestfallen and searching for like-minded Gleeks the world over.
I can’t help but wonder what I will do without those troubled glee club kids. Will I have to resort Saturday Night Live to turn me on to new music? And what of mash-ups? Where will I go to find them, huh? Answer me that!
What of the hapless Mr. Shu? Will Will just go back to teaching Spanish I? How will Will fill his afternoons? As for Sue, I can only hope that the writers draw some inspiration from “L.A. Law” and plot for her a Roz-like demise — there must be an elevator chute for her to fall into somewhere in that school! (I’ll bet Artie knows where all the elevators are!)
And what of the guest stars? I request that you all send up a little prayer asking that Idina Menzel, Kristin Chenoweth, Gwyneth Paltrow, and John Stamos have luck finding work elsewhere.
I suppose they’ll all land on their feet. I’ll miss them, but I’m certain that something equally square will come along that will capture my attention. If nothing does, I have plenty of unwatched episodes of “Orange is the New Black” to occupy my spare time. I’ll try not to let word get out that I’m watching it. I wouldn’t want it to be associated with someone as tragically unhip as me — someone who, more often than not, let’s her geek flag fly.