Wordsmoker

Welcome to your first (and probably only) recap of Julia Allison’s television realitorial debut, Miss Advised, where Ms. Allison and two other sad, lonely women play dating advisors who are single, a few years past their prime, and can’t seem to follow their own advice.

Let’s get the also-rans out of the way before letting that big, tasty spotlight shine on our old friend Julia, shall we?

Emily hosts a sex talk radio show in San Francisco and wrote a book titled Hot Sex: Over 200 Things You Can Try Tonight, which might be a good selection for our next Book Fuck Club. Emily is exactly how I imagine Maryann turned out after Mr. and Mrs. Howell died of old age, the Skipper had a heart attack, Ginger (finally) ran off with the Professor, and Maryann is left whining to Gilligan about how there aren’t any good men on the island. Either that, or a Charlotte who really let herself go. Oh, and she is currently dating a bisexual formerly orthodox Jewish man which I think is supposed to make her “edgy.”

Emily has a brother who is a little lot too knowledgeable about her sex life. He is a “very special” guest on Emily’s radio show, which she says with a bit too much of a purrr. Afterwards, they go out for a romantic dinner and discuss cock rings. Not kidding. I’m getting a Flowers In The Attic vibe from these two.

Amy is a matchmaker living in New York City. I get the impression that she has watched Millionaire Matchmaker a few too many times and decided to open a business called Thousandaire Matchmaker. She seems likeable, so if I had to vote for one of these women to not die in a freak accident involving molten lava and giant killer robots, it’d be Amy.

Amy’s biggest obstacle to finding love is that she wants to date her ex, who moved to Saudi Arabia without telling her and is currently undecided as to whether or not he ever wants to move back to New York. As if that isn’t bad enough, the ex resembles Schneider from One Day at a Time. Oh lady, we need to talk. He is an oily bohunk, a Vinnie Barbarino. Amy, forget him. Move on. you can do so much better.

And then there’s Julia. Oh, Julia Allison. How long has it been since we last saw your gaping maw grace the innards of our newspapers? Years? Decades? What, pray tell, have you been up to? According to Julia Allison, she has been a dating columnist for ten solid, uninterrupted years. But this is reality television, so let’s interject some reality into the mix, shall we? Julia has been living in her parent’s basement in Chicago since 2010, and a freakishly thorough Google search has not turned up a single “column” since she exited Time Out New York in 2009.

Julia arrives in Los Angeles wearing Uggs because she’s trying to work my last nerve. She’s living with a roommate, a little wisp of a thing who was promised fame and glory in exchange for putting up with a freeloader.

Oh! Julia mentioned us, her adoring fans! She believes that people dislike her for the wrong reasons. You see, just because every word she has ever written is about herself, it doesn’t make her a narcissist. Duh. Stupid Websters and its stupid definitions.

Julia’s first order of business in her new city is to arrange a date with a man she met on Craigslist, unpack her twenty-one tutus, compare her ass to that of Kardashian, and give her loyal viewers dating advice:

• Always say yes, because there’s no such thing as a bad date, just a good date or a good brunch story;

• The perfect date dress is one that says “You can take me home to your mom and I might give you a blowjob on the way there”; and

• A lady never spits, unless she starts gagging. Then you totally have to spit.

Jeez, Julia, don’t give these bon mots away for free, save ‘em for your dating col—oh, right.

Her date with Craigslist is not going well, so she swallows and asks him to come back the next day and help her move boxes. Craigslist agrees, and while actually carrying a box up a flight of stairs, he asks Julia out for drinks later that evening. Guaranteed “yes,” right guys? I mean who could say no when you’re doing someone the ultimate favor? Right? Heh. Julia Allison, the most awful woman on the planet. I was rooting for Craigslist to drop that box down the stairs and hope for breakables, but instead he finishes helping her move and then loads his truck up with empty boxes to fortify his house under the overpass. Julia waits the appropriate amount of time for Craigslist to drive away before calling him to break up.

So what have we learned? For me, I have learned that summer television programming can reach depths so low that it makes you long for another episode of Cop Rock. Also, there is such a thing as too many tutus.