CSI: The Elmore Leonard Years

I tried so hard to watch CSI: Miami last night. I tried not to read all about breast cancer in my new Self magazine and focus instead on David Caruso & Co. recreating one of my favorite shows in backwoods-yet-exotic Southern Florida. But about 20 minutes in, I had to shut off the TV. It just shouldn't be that hard to watch television. I didn't care a fig for any of the characters. The ME's quirk of talking directly to the corpses was cute on the crossover episode, but quickly became just plain creepy. Introducing a political problem between the male and female lead in the first ten minutes doesn't score any points with me. Dude. Horatio? You're not Grissom. Stop saying, "Ladies" and "Gentlemen" as if you're the schoolmarm trying to quiet rambunctious rugrats. The addition of Kim Delaney is totally annoying. Now the parallels are complete. Old guy, old gal (who, by the way, wears the wrong shoes for crime scene investigation), young gal, two young turks. I guess making the ME a crazy black lady is their big twist. I say thumbs down on CSI: Maimi.

On the bright side of TV, I get to watch the Buffy and Smallville season premieres tonight. I'll have to pick up some ice cream, Dr. Pepper and cigarettes to make this perfect. Will the bad reporter get away with Clark's secret? Will Lex find out? (But that wouldn't make sense, because if Lex Luthor knows Superman's secret identity, wouldn't he tell everyone in the future?) Will Chloe forgive Clark for saving Lana's Neutrogena-caked ass? Will Clark fly? I'm all a-tingle.

And by the way, I got my white belt in karate last Thursday. Watch out, evildoers! Grab me on the wrist all you want, I will easily slip through your grasp. Just don't grab me by the shirt, because I haven't quite figured that one out yet.