And no, by no means is the inclusion of this ad spot in any way recommending the Jenny Craig program (unless there is some sort of compensation included — hey, if Val’s gettin’ paid, so should I).

Still, our little formerly rotund Valerie Ex-Van Halen is doing a world of good for Jenny Craig. So much better than that Kristie Alley, crazy and chubby.

Much like how we all just naturally gravitated toward Barbara rather than Julie, it is scientifically proven that Valerie Bertinelli is immensely likeable, and therefore the superior spokesperson for a diet plan. Obese people don’t want to be called fat, they want to see someone sweet and cute lose weight before their eyes in pleasing surroundings rather than what is maybe supposed to be Kirstie Alley’s princess telephone room.

And thanks to the interwebs, you can follow Valerie’s weight-loss journey. She’s blogging about it. Blogging? Please. Why would anyone really care enough to read something written not by Valerie Bertinelli, but someone in the marketing department. It’s obvious because of all the damn product placement. That is not a blog. Blogs are written by loners in their pyjamas that watch far too much television, not former child stars…oh, wait, maybe there is some room for cross-over.

Anyhoo, I think it is great that Valerie is losing all that weight, though truth be told, she still looked good a little chubby. Could this weight loss success story be a stepping stone back onto network television? The girl hasn’t worked consistently since 2003’s last season of Touched by an Angel (which I never watched nor plan to).

Valerie Bertinelli, One Day at a Time, Jenny Craig, weight loss, Kirstie Alley, Touched by an Angel

[Disclaimer: Author was not alive in 1972 and cannot say with any authority whether or not 1972 was even a good year]

“Maude and the Radical”

Things are abuzz at the Findlay House. Walter is scolded by Florida for swiping her meatballs, and makes a lame joke about Black Power. Maude is throwing an important party, and she is freakin! 30 people? That’s not a party. But Maude is taking tranquilizers to calm herself down, so I think comedy is inherent in the premise.

And the party is for…drumroll, please…”one of the most important Black militant leaders in the country.” Then there are the jokes. A lame one about Julius LaRosa, whoever that is, and it seems that only one guy in the audience gets that one, but he really gets it. And the long-tailed cat in the room full of rockers joke that moves from character to character and from Hee Haw to the Dean Martin Show as the source.

Uh-oh, Florida is the only help that Maude can get to serve the party. and for some reason she is in a French maid’s outfit in order to do it. But Maude cannot, will not have Florida serve at the party. How would that look in front of the rich white guests, who left their black help at home?

Arthur arrives, and gives Maude more pills. He’s so great. I bet he was passing pills to Kimberly on Diff’rent Strokes. Aw, that’s mean of me. Sorry, Dana Plato. RIP.

If that is a robe that Maude is wearing a robe in the first part of this episode, it’s the most awesome bath robe ever.

Oh, bad news. The one black couple that Maude could muster up to attend her fundraising party cannot make it. Carol admonishes Maude about only inviting one black couple, and Walt says she should always have a “back-up black.” The only other black couple that Maude can think of is a boring couple that another couple knows, but black beats boring, and she calls her white friends, invites them and asks them to bring along that “lovely black couple” Maude met at their house a month ago. Like they are accessories. Smooth move, Maude. Maude gets shut down. Rightly so.

Florida is on her way out the door when Maude gets an idea. Oh, this will be good.

Maude is running the party, like a military general, and yet everything is going swimmingly. But no matter, she is bugging out on Arthur for more valium. Her behavior convinces him to humor her. She is awesome, and Arthur has to pry her martini from her hands.

Florida descends the staircase, and Maude names her “Mrs. Dubonnet, a guest.” Odd. She then parades Florida around in what looks to be a shout out to some type of “native” style. Maude starts downing alcohol by the rocks glass.

She addresses the party as “fellow liberals” and then she starts singing Some Enchanted Evening. Walt smartly cuts her off after two lines. Luckily, the party guests are all too high and white themselves to really notice Maude’s wackiness.

Seems that the still-absent Black Militant Leader just wrote a book called Give Us Colorado, a title that refers to his idea of the US giving Colorado to African Americans. This idea moves one party guest to ask “why Colorado? Blacks don’t ski.” Brilliant.

Florida is drafted to speak on behalf of the Black Experience. Arthur calls the charade out, and Maude deflects the question with more singing (about Sylvia, no less). But the gig is up. And then the truth comes out about the party being a fundraiser. Maude also starts insulting the guests before arguing with Arthur on his way out. Love her. Arthur and her need to sleep together to get over their whole sexual tension thing.

Ding dong! The guest of honor has arrived. Maude takes a belt of water, tosses the glass behind her, throws open the door, and welcomes the Man with the Afro (natch) to “an evening with Maude.”

She fesses up to Walt that she raised $1,000 for the Black Militant Leader. But wait, she was the only one left at the fundraiser? Oh, you, Maude.

Maude, Bea Arthur, Maude and the Radical, Maude Season One DVD, television, sitcom

However, this time Maude may have a point. Carol is about to go out with an “older…correction, old man” and Maude had dated him in the past before marrying Walter. Double-whammy. Maude is concerned that Carol is too dumb to know when she is the May in the May-December relationship, and this man, Russell Asher, is a novelist and totally self-absorbed. Maude is adorable in her “concern.” But whatever, this guy is loaded, so I say go for it, Carol.

Carol is wearing these weird hair clips that they used in the olden days as curlers or something. She is also wearing a body-hugging burgundy dress…growl. Adrienne Barbeau must have been the shit back then because she keeps getting these odd super soft-focus close ups.

Joke of the show: Maude explains to Walt that man also go through menopause, “they just haven’t had the bad press we women have had.”

Maude is equally charming when Russel arrives. And wow, this is a 70-year-old man — yowza! His suit alone is enough to make me forget my no-one-over-60 rule. Russell Asher is played by this guy, Cesare Danova, and I can swear I have seen him in something before, but if you check out his imdb page, he’s been in just about every old show out there, going back to The Rifleman and Daniel Boone and including McMillan & Wife, Mannix, Charlie’s Angels — and then I see it, Animal House. Bingo. He’s the mayor.

Russel and Carol are flying into NYC to tape the Tonight Show. NYC? Surely, that is a mistake…Carson taped in LA. Ah, true, Carson did tape in LA, but for the first ten years of the Tonight Show, he taped in New York. The Tonight Show moved out west May 1972, a few months after the airing of this episode. But I digress. Carol is going to Russell’s place in the city to watch the airing of the Carson show as they call it. Maude points it out to Walter that most people watch Carson in the bedroom. Florida confirms the sexual intent of Carol’s visit, as she took her toothbrush with her.

Next morning, and flowers arrive for Carol, who didn’t get in until 4 am and still hasn’t come down for breakfast. Maude was up, so she knows and frets. Walt is wondering why his parents had eggs every morning, but he is not allowed. Maude points out that his parents ate breakfast before they knew about cholesterol. Ha ha, a joke about the times and the new medical research.

Carol finally comes downstairs and she is totally over Russell Asher. She is defensive and evasive about the sudden change of heart, but Maude keeps goading her until she blurts out that Russell called her Maude’s name.

Bea Arthur’s slow turn to face the camera is priceless. Seriously, she is a goddess of comedy. Maude is genuinely happy about this turn of events, and she tells Walt about her triumph. Walt gets a bit jealous. Russell arrives, and Maude is precious in her arrogance around him, thinking that he still holds a torch for her.

But alas, the truth comes out. Carol called Russell out on his bigger-than-Hemingway ego, and he calls her Maude as in you are just like your mother while they are fighting. As Maude processes this, Carol figures out that Maude assumed that Russell called out her name while Carol and he were gettin’ it on. This brings Carol pleasure, as her mom is humbled.

But this little episode has brought Maude and Carol a little closer together, and that is kinda cute. This show is growing on me. Except for the weird little codas at the end of the episodes. In this one, Maude is freaking out on Walter, chasing him downstairs and waking Carol. Walt called Maude Sylvia. Kinda lame, and over done. But other than that, a very good episode.

Maude, Bea Arthur, Adrienne Barbeau, Cesare Danova, Tonight Show, sitcom, television, retro tv

But before we get off-track and start talking about Good Times, let’s join our on-going exploration of the 1972-1978 Norman Lear sitcom, Maude, starring the now late Bea Arthur. This is the third episode of the first season, “Maude Meets Florida.”

The phones rings, and Maude has to explain to the caller on the other end that no, she is not Mr. Findlay. Mr. Findlay has a much higher voice. Ah, love it. Maude/Bea Arthur sounds like a man. That’s the second episode in which Maude’s baritone has been the butt of a joke. It’s so good to see an actress with so little ego as Arthur.

Maude can be expecting a Mrs. Evans. Hmm, Evans…Florida Evans. Good Times…

Seems Maude has insisted that everyone is up and atom early to get the house ready for an interview for a new housekeeper. Ha, she cleans the house to interview a housekeeper. Tricks-y Maude. Make her think that there won’t be a lot of work. Joke’s on the housekeeper.

Carol was out until four a.m. the previous night, and Maude wants to know who and how far they went. Well, Maude didn’t ask her that, but Carol assumes that Maude wants to know this stuff. Finally, Carol points out the absurdity of cleaning the house for a new “maid.” Carol also asks if the housekeeper (Maude doesn’t use the word maid) will be black. Maude only likes to hire black housekeeper to ease her liberal guilt.

And it is Florida Evans from Good Times. Esther Rolle is a goddess, in my opinion. Maude insists on Mrs. Evans calling them Maude and Carol, and wouldn’t you know it, Mrs. Evans likes to be called Mrs. Evans.

Maude is crazy. She’s all over-friendly, and over-analytical in terms of how a minority feels about life. Florida explains how she got her name, stealing the scene, and Maude finds instant kinship, as it underscores her liberal credentials.

The back-and-forth between Maude and Walter is good in this episode. An example of a line — Maude to Walter: “There is a thin line between love and hate…and you’re erasing it.”

Maude starts going on about Florida’s new “family” and “home.” Florida is all like, bitch, I got a family and a home. And her first week is a trial — for the Findlays. Maude doesn’t get it, and keeps up her “I’m down with the modern negro.” Seriously, Maude, seriously.

Next week, Walt is accusing Florida of nipping his gin. He’s not racist; he just doesn’t trust maids. Maude has been keeping Florida busy, but not cleaning — shopping and talking, being friends, you know. And the gin…Maude tells Walt that she and Florida had martinis at lunch.

Ok, so something from the beginning of the episode comes up when carol’s young son, Philip is caught recording obscenities into his new tape recorder. Florida gives Carol the message from Philip’s school, and Maude doesn’t understand why Florida didn’t tell her earlier. Florida explains the message wasn’t for her, but for Carol. Walt and Carol jump all over Maude about how she treats Florida, accusing her of spoiling her in order to get her to like her.

Florida decides she is done with the Findlay Household, as it’s Friday and the trial is over. And yes, the reason is Maude. She’s crazy. Maude says something about if Florida doesn’t want to improve herself, she should just go. Oh, this is going to be good!

Maude has been trying to show Florida that she can have just as much self-respect and dignity as a white woman. And Florida doesn’t need this. Maude then calls Florida a bigot, when Florida points out that she likes to eat in the kitchen by herself rather than with the family. Priceless. Seems Florida has run into all kinds of problems with white liberals always trying to change her. Word, sister.

Carol and Walt try to change Florida’s mind. Their candor makes Florida decide to make peace with Maude. And why not? These two characters are wonderful together. I expect this duo to get more play. Both women are overly-opinionated, and we all know that conflict is what creates entertaining situations for us all to watch and love.

Maude, Bea Arthur, Good Times, spin off, Norman Lear, Esther Rolle

The phone rings, and Maude seems super annoyed about it. It seems that everyone has been calling her and alerting her to the weather in the Caribbean. It’s Hurricane Maude.

Whoa, Mr. Drummond walks in. He’s Arthur on Maude, and he’s a doctor. And a neighbor. Must be before he adopts those inner city kids. Art is politically the polar opposite of Maude, so I hope to see lots of him in the future. But right now, he’s got to go, as his newfangled beeper rings. Ah, those early, heady days of the first pager.

Seems Art was goading Maude into disagreeing with him on Proposition 17. He tricked her as there is no prop 17. Jokes on you, Maude. But then, Carol discovers that her son, Philip, has been caught playing doctor out behind the garage with Art’s granddaughter. Naked doctor. Nice.

Of course, the moral majority-lovin’ Arthur is freaking out about the situation between his innocent naive granddaughter; and Maude, Carol, and even Walt defend the kids’ natural curiosity. Somehow the argument takes a detour to discuss homosexuality in the State Department in the early 1950’s and Burt Reynolds’ centerfold picture.

Wow…

Ooh, a political Maude. I like it. Is it freedom of expression or a decay of morality? Naturally, Maude takes the permissive liberal view, against Arthur’s “fit” of suppression. Carol refuses to punish Philip, but agrees to say something to him. Arthur is incensed and calls them all degenerates. Maude takes offense. Art takes off, threatening to never return.

Cut to a drunken Arthur and Walt in a bar, and it seems that it is week later. Art gets to make a joke about Maude’s manly voice, because that will never get old. The drunken, yet deep conversation turns to Art’s God-complex due to his job as a doctor. Lots of odd close-ups and I’m not sure what is going on, but it’s going on for a while. Art finally comes to the point, and admits that Maude’s right about him having a hang-up about sex. He’s from Vermont, and I guess that is explanation enough.

Not the dress, but lookin' hot all the same...

Back at the Findlay House, and Adrienne Barbeau is lookin’ hot in a short dress. Maude focuses on the length, and the girls start arguing over nothing. Maude’s just in a bad mood, and admits as such. Carol suggests Maude go “put on her face.” But Maude already did. I feel like this is just filler until that lush Walt walks in.

Walt has invited Art over, but Maude is holding a grudge. The topic of sexual hang-ups come up, and Carol says something about it being a generational thing. Maude and Art’s generation have hang-ups, but Carol’s gen are free and natural with no hang-ups. Sure, Carol, is that why you are seeing a shrink?

Then things start getting weird. Walt starts stripping, to underscore his liberal attitude about the human body. The audience is dying, and maybe an older man in his boxers was a really big deal in 1972, but I don’t really get why this is so freakin’ funny. But the trick worked and Maude has relaxed about the Arthur thing.

And cue Arthur. Maude is giving the audience a deadpan look as she and Carol are caught putting Walt’s pants back on. Of course, this situation leads to Art declaring, yet again, that they are all a bunch of degenerates.

The next morning. Maude is so mad at Walt, she hid his Alka-Seltzer. But she has tea or maybe it’s coffee ready for him. She starts lecturing him, and guess what? Walt has no recollection of what happened the night before.

But I am left wondering, what will happen between Maude and Arthur? Tune in to find out, I guess.

Maude, Bea Arthur, classic tv, sitcoms, 1970’s television

Alright, so in honor of Bea Arthur…let’s watch Maude.

The opening credits are a lot like the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I guess a driving montage was big in the early 1970’s, probably part of a larger campaign to not only promote the automobile industry, but also to promote urban flight as in the case of Maude’s move to the tony Long Island suburbs of New York City.

The set is totally All in the Family. Perhaps to let everyone know that it’s a spin-off. That is one thing I love about Norman Lear shows. He’s like the James Ivory of 1970’s television sitcoms. The production design is all obviously the same team.

As the episode opens, Walter is reading the paper in his chair, and Maude is anxious about Carol being late for dinner as Maude has to go to the hospital during visiting hours to see her friend, who had a hysterectomy. Oh, that’s a female thing, so let’s start with the feminism right off.

The doorbell chimes, and get this, it’s a super young Ed Begley Jr at the door asking for money for Vietnam vets in a college contest. Vietnam is pronounced funny. It’s like Vee ‘EHT nam. And Maude finds out his little scam — he’s selling magazines — and sends him off while making a comment about how lousy the Vietnam War is. Wow, feminist and political.

Maude is suspicious about Carol, and thinks she’s having an affair. Carol arrives home, pissy and wearing sunglasses. I think that means she has been crying. And then Maude explains that when a woman wears sunglasses in the house she’s trying to hide that she’s been crying. I’m so smart.

Maude presses the issue. Carol is being difficult, and the glasses are starting to annoy me. Carol removes them finally, and yes, she’s been crying. I think she’s touched.

Maude’s investigative skills turn up that Carol is seeing a psychiatrist. Oh, no, not a shrink. Hasn’t Bob Newhart taught us anything? So my summation of where this is going is that Maude won’t let this go, and instead she’s going to face the shrink herself and maybe with some comic consequences.

There is an odd scene at the dinner table and if anyone can explain it, that would be great. I guess it’s Maude trying not to bring up the subject, and it’s literally fighting to come out. Either that or Maude is constipated.

And then, the truth comes out. Maude thinks that Carol’s need for a psychiatrist is because Maude failed as a mother. Ah, reminds me of the Fear of Flying episode from the Simpsons…great episode. Maude starts droning on about how devoted she always has been as a mother, but Carol has no recollection, as she doesn’t remember the ages before 10. What? Really? She really does need a shrink.

By the way, it was brilliant casting Adrienne Barbeau as Bea Arthur’s daughter. They have very similar eyebrows and almost as manly voices.

Cut to the psychiatrist’s office. Maude enters and finds herself with a very nervous looking lady. She feels threatened by Maude’s presence, and Maude tells her she is there to steal her appointment. Odd, and Maude is thinly veiling threats of violence in order to run her out so Maude can in fact steal her appointment.

And we have our first Jew joke. Maude tells Dr. Stern that the only thing she knows is that Carol said he wasn’t Jewish. Hi-larity.

Dr. Stern points out that Maude has a control issue when it comes to her Carol. No! And then during Maude’s defensive ranting, she says something about her own mother. And Doctor Stern has a new patient.

You wouldn’t know that Bea Arthur can carry off physical humor really well, as that you don’t see in her later years on the Golden Girls. She uses her body to great effect to strike the overly dramatic stances of an over-protective mother. At times, it’s a bit much, but come on, it’s the pilot, so we’ll have to see how Maude and Bea Arthur develop.

Maude, Norman Lear, Bea Arthur, Adrienne Barbeau, television, sitcom

Then I started watching retro tv, and I discovered Maude. If you have never watched Maude, I will be starting a new thread on Maude as soon as I get the discs from Netflix.

Bea Arthur was born the decidedly unglamorous Bernice Frankel in New York City in 1922. She soon moved with her family to Maryland, went to high school in Pennsylvania and college in Virginia. She returned to NYC to study drama at the New School. She appeared on stage as Lucy Brown in the English-language premier of Kurt Weill’s Threepenny Opera, going on to play Yente the Matchmaker in Fiddler on the Roof and Vera Charles in Mame with Angela Lansbury. Arthur went on to reprise the role in the film version with Lucille Ball as Mame.

And then there’s Maude…

Bea Arthur was originally cast as Edith Bunker’s feminist cousin as a foil to the overt sexism of Archie Bunker in All in the Family. She made such a splash as the acid-tongued Maude Findlay that CBS made the smart move and gave Bea and Maude their own show. And what a show it was. Covering all kinds of controversial material, the apex of the series in terms of scandal came in the two-part “Maude’s Decision” episode, in which she decides to end a late-pregnancy with a *gasp* abortion. You think abortion is controversial today…many CBS affiliates refused to air the episode, which, hello, means that everyone who might not have watched the show in the first place tuned in to see what all the fuss was about.

Arthur needed a change after six seasons. She took a break, danced in the Mos Eisley Cantina in a Star Wars holiday special. Then she turned again to sitcoms in the Golden Girls. She was a perfect complement to Betty White’s ultra-nice, ultra-naive Rose from St.Olaf and the overly promiscuous Blanche (McClanahan). [A little tv trivia for you: White was originally cast as Blanche, and McClanahan as Rose; but White had already played a slut on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and McClanahan had already done sweet and innocent on... ta-dah... Maude. Both actresses feared being typecast and agreed to switch parts.] But the best combo came from Arthur’s play off of her “mother” Sophia, played by the younger Estelle Getty. Getty’s ascerbic tone played right into Arthur’s deadpan sane-among-the-crazy Dorothy.

For younger viewers, you may have noticed Arthur’s guest spots on Futurama as the Femputer when Fry and the boys are forced to make it with really large women in “Amazon Women in the Mood.” She also played Dewey’s babysitter in an episode of Malcolm in the Middle in which she likes dancing to ABBA’s Fernando.

Bea Arthur survived an incredible 7 decades in the entertainment industry, and that is no small feat. For Maude alone, she is a star in the television history firmament.

I say, rest in peace, Bea Arthur. You made me laugh and think, and for that, I thank you.

Bea Arthur, Maude, Golden Girls, Futurama, Malcolm in the Middle, Star Wars

We open on a stressed out Romano-Cooper household. Julie is freaking out on Barbara about earrings, Ann is freaking out on Julie over pantyhose, and David arrives. It’s a party, and it was David’s idea for Ann to host a party. Ann is seriously annoying and the scene plays a little broad with Bonnie Franklin yelling at Richard Masur to zip her up as she quickly walks away from him. The zipper is stuck and this scene is now going way too long when Schneider enters with Ann’s mail. Schneider fixes the zipper, because he’s the handy man. Get it.

Schneider notices the preparations for the party and starts offering his help, and then he finds out that she has invited several neighbors. But not him. He leaves…sadly. That is cold, Ann. This guy hangs out at your apartment all the time, and you didn’t think that he’d feel left out.

Ann again starts freaking out about this and that, and the garbage disposal is broken. So, guess who Ann thinks it is appropriate to call…Schneider. Barbie calls him and after she hangs up, Ann changes her mind. She is really starting to wear out her charm when it comes to being wishy-washy about men.

Misunderstanding Barbara’s call, Schneider arrives in full party-hardy mode, and we go to commercial.

Schneider’s idea of a fun time is to wear a hand-buzzer and leave whoopee cushions around for unsuspecting ladies. He is a laugh riot! Barbie says something about the disposal, and Schneider figures out why he is there. He says something about he is the superintendent and that what the superintendent does. I think what he is really saying is that he is not a “friend”, only a superintendent. Aw, I suddenly feel sorry for the very lonely Schneider.

Ann feels bad now that she didn’t think to invite Schneider. About time. She’s so insensitive. But the first guests have arrived. A fun couple that really liven up the place. The old lady sits on the hand buzzer. Hilarious.

Ann sneaks out of the party to go talk to Schneider and we get out third set for the One day at a Time universe: Schneider’s basement apartment. It’s as sad as his life.

Now, Pat Harrington gets a little screen time to ham it up and give us a little background on his character. He’s a big John Wayne fan. So am I. Gee, maybe this Schneider-based episode was well-timed. I never really liked him before, but maybe I am starting to change my mind.

During the exchange, Ann tries to bring it all back to her, but Schneider won’t have it. We find out he was married before, and Ann and Dwayne Schneider find that they have something in common — something called loneliness.

It’s a sweet moment. And almost a little funny, too.

Cut to “Later that evening” and Schneider is the life of the party.

One Day at a Time, Bonnie Franklin, Richard Masur, Pat Harrington, sitcom

Ann and David are home from a “date” and they are both a little tipsy. Long story short, Ann kisses David, in a very romantic, albeit drunken way. The girls bust them on it. And then there is a lot of yelling. But the yelling has brought Ann back to reality about the David issue.

David accuses her of being hung up on her pre-cougar status. She’s 34, and he’s 26. It’s a fight, and noisy with an annoying alarm clock going off. This is just jarring, and then finally Barbara breaks it up. I heart her!

And everything is right in the world, until David decides to work his way up to popping the question to Ann in front of both Julie and Barbie. But not before Schneider comes a-knocking at the Romano-Cooper ’s door at one in the morning.

I have to say, I am not sure why Schneider is ever in a scene. I know he is usually there just to lighten the lameness that runs rampant in this show. But here it is to frustrate David’s proposal, and that leads to David blurting out his plans in a very non-romantic way.

David smokes, and it is really weird to see a character on television smoking. I mean, other than Mad Men bringing it back, the Cancer Man on the X-Files is the last guy I can think of that smoked.

David is as whiny as he is overly-aggressive. You do kind of feel sorry for him though, as Ann does clearly lead him on.

Next day, or maybe a few days later — oh, no, it’s just later in the morning and Julie finds that Ann is still up. A cup of soup, and some girl talk about what is was that Ann found attractive in Julie’s father. And how she doesn’t feel that same way about David. But then again, her love with her husband went south, so who knows what is the recipe to a good marriage.

A knock on the door, and David couldn’t sleep either. He is trying really hard to be charming, and then tries appealing to the girls to convince Ann to marry him. Julie tries to get a car out of him. Cute. And then it gets sad. Give it up, David.

He rushes into Ann’s bedroom, throwing her from the bed. The girls rush in after him, but a sound from the kitchen scares them. David, armed with a can of hairspray, finds Schneider (of course) going through the Romano-Cooper’s cupboards. He’s hungry. Yeah.

Cue the yawns. David and Ann get back to hashing all of this out, and I just want it to be over. David is too pushy, and forces her to answer. They do all of this through yawns and it’s too precious and dumb. Ann falls asleep after agreeing to “fool around.” Ah, David. Another cold shower for you.

One day at a Time, David Loves Ann, sitcom, television, Mad Men, X-Files

Don’t be a whore, Bonnie Franklin.

Ann arrives home from as date with a tall, dark handsome stranger. And she gives it up on the first date — a kiss, that is. She met him in a Chinese restaurant while she was job hunting. She “got picked up”, as Julie so delicately points out.

Julie starts lecturing Mom about the dangers of strange men. She overacts, but the scene is still kinda cute as the girls get to call Ann out on the double standard. And then Barbara tells Mom they know all about divorcee’s being “hot to trot.” So adorable, seriously.

And then the truth comes out, and Ann actually met him a few weeks ago? And they play “who picked who up”. Cute. And a little kinky. Hot to trot, indeed.

And he’s an airline pilot. And we all know about pilots (Quagmires) or navigators (Howards). Strangely, David doesn’t care about Ann dating when Julie spills the news to him. I think he likes it. Geez, the 70’s were swingin’.

When it rains, it pours. The door rings and it’s Schneider, of course, because this guy is weirdly always hanging around the apartment of the single mo and her two teenage daughters. He has roses for Ann. But the roses are from Steve, the pilot.

He wants Ann to come fly away with him. To meet up with him in Chicago. Oooooooohhhhhhhh, 80’s style.

But is Ann ready for this?

David starts acting weird as soon as he sees he’s getting bird-dogged by a pilot. I bet that happens to lots of lawyers.

Next day, and David arrives after having been called by Ann. She needs a man, and of course, David thinks she is referring to him, but he plays dumb until Ann literally spells it out for him. He freaks out, and we get the drama part of the dram-edy of One Day at a Time.

The fight goes on for a long time, and then they start yelling at the same time until Ann calls him a creep. Luckily the girls get home and diffuses the situation.

I don’t blame David in a way, as Ann has totally been leading him on, and it is a pilot we are talking about. Pilots are like sailors, girls in every port. David thinks Ann is making a bad decision, besides the point that he is jealous.

And Ann is going to tell the girls the truth about what she is doing. She’s so liberated! Take that, Gloria Steinem!

Barbara is supportive, and Julie accuses Mom of “shacking up.” You cannot get anything past Julie, and then Julie calls Ann out for not allowing her to go camping. And then while Ann is defending her actions, she starts doubting her decision to go. She doesn’t say it, but you can see it in her face.

Ann is leaving and meets Schneider a mopping the lobby. While she waits for her taxi, Schneider gives her advice. Charming. But his brutal honesty and general sleaziness further drive home the point that Ann is not ready for this “departure” of character. She gives Schneider a tender (tease!) kiss and then returns into the building.

Moral of the story: Don’t be a whore until you are damn good and ready.

One Day at a Time, sitcom, television, Bonnie Franklin, Chicago Rendezvous