A guide to what we’re barely putting up with this week.
HBO’s hilarious, bone-dry Getting On. Not many shows on television can have jokes about an octogenarian’s labia without seeming broad.
The return of The Millionaire Matchmaker. Once a year, Patti Stanger emerges from her cave beneath the sea to bark orders at people who want to buy spouses, before she disintegrates into a fine powder that is blown into the sea, beginning the cycle all over again.
Fergie’s throbbing, monotonous, hands-across-the-globe club track, “L.A. Love.” Only Pitbull is allowed to shout out international cities and call it a single, Fergie.
Peter Pan Live! “Is Brian Williams’ daughter the next Mary Martin?! Will that girl from Girls be convincing as a young singing boy?!” NBC yells into the cold, dark network TV abyss.
The semi-annual onslaught of Kay Jewelers commercials. The most special gift for that special woman in your life is some “special” diamond-esque necklace bought from the adult version of a Claire’s accessory shop on Black Friday.
The latest bloated, unnecessary sequel in the burlap-sheathed heroes genre, The Hobbit: The Battle Of The Five Armies. How is it possible that every Hobbit movie looks exactly the same, yet has an annoyingly distinctive title? You’ve seen one Smaug, you’ve seen them all.
CBS’ annual semi-nude walking Rose Bowl parade, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. The bad news: Glitter-covered raver wear and hollowed-out piñatas are the new lingerie. The good news: Victoria’s Secret finally realizes there’s nothing sexy about selling bras in a mall next to a Wetzel’s Pretzels.