Google Something Clever 2.0: Jenn Watches Crappy Reality TV: Chrisley Knows Best

Apr 4, 2014

Jenn Watches Crappy Reality TV: Chrisley Knows Best

So here's the deal: I recently suffered a couple of professional bummers back to back, and I got all pouty and couldn't bring myself to write anything for a while. I'd come up with a topic, then talk myself out of it.

Then I saw a commercial for this show called Chrisley Knows Best, and I said to myself (out loud and everything), "Who in the hell would watch that crap?!" I've never been into reality shows, other than competition shows like America's Got Talent and Face Off. I tried to watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo once, because my friend insisted, and I ended up getting a pretty decent blog post out of it. So I figured this might be a good way to get back on the horse again, and maybe I'll make it a series if you guys like it.



Apparently, I was a little late to the game, so I ended up recording Season 1, Episode 2, "Not So Sweet Sixteen." I don't think it should be too hard to catch up, though. Here we go!

Alright, I missed the premiere, and I think the DVR must have cut off all the exposition at the beginning, because this just starts out with two teenagers on a couch, talking to a camera about the girl's upcoming Sweet Sixteen. Am I supposed to capitalize that? I feel gross typing it at all. I hate this family already.

The boy is complaining that he never had his own SS (sorry, I can't type it again, and yes, I know what else that stands for; don't care), and the girl says boys don't get them. The boy says Bieber did, and Bieber is a bad ass, and now I know everything I need to know about both of them. Moving on!

We cut to the kitchen, where an impeccably groomed gentleman lounges at the breakfast island like the human version of that cat from the Fancy Feast commercials. Remember him? The one that ate his dinner out of a crystal goblet, and if he could talk, he'd be all, "Pssht, I could buy and sell Morris ten times over." Okay, so him, only, a human man. I guess that's Chrisley, because really, what else would you call a man like that?

Enter a young boy. I can only estimate ages that my son has been, so I can't tell you how old this kid is, but he's older than five and his voice has not changed yet. So, 7? 10? Somewhere in there. Whatever. He death-marches into the kitchen and deadpans his line: "It's the weekend you know what that means."

No, I didn't forget how to punctuate; that's exactly how the boy delivered it. You know, if you're going to have a fake reality show with scripted dialog, maybe don't involve a little kid who can't act. Just... I don't know, maybe that's normal for these things.

Anyway, that was a setup for the kid to claim that he's allowed to consume nothing but soda on the weekends, and Chrisley's not having it, but he's also not getting up from his seat, or raising his voice, or even his eyebrows (although I think he medically can't do the last one). So they have a weird soda standoff that ends with the kid drinking a Coke, because Chrisley is the worst manny in Atlanta, I guess?

Cut to the teen girl's bedroom. Much like how Carrie Ann Moss' acting was ruined in the Matrix trilogy because it's impossible to play off of a stone, Chrisley was deeply affected by Deadpan Soda Boy, and he now says to the girl, the wall, or maybe nobody in particular, "Are You Excited About Having A Party." How he managed to articulate capital letters, I don't know, but he did. Go watch the episode if you don't believe me.

The girl replies "Yes. I. Am." and okay, maybe none of these people can act.

Now she's trying on dresses for Chrisley while he name-drops Valentino and spouts off clever catch phrases like "Class, not ass!" Curiously, he does say that line with feeling. I think maybe he was a pageant coach before he took up mannying?

In the next scene, Chrisley is riding in the teen boy's Range Rover talking about... Well, I have no idea what they were talking about, because I was too distracted by the white trim on the black leather seats, and the fact that Chrisley was twirling his hair and probably daydreaming about Paris. I just checked my notes, and all I wrote was "make a Paul Lynde reference."

Okay, now we're back home. Teen girl is talking on her phone in her bedroom, as teen girls are wont to do. But this is reality TV, so of course she's using speaker phone, and her bedroom door is wide open. Mom finally comes home from the gold bar factory or whatever and oh would you look at that she happened past the girl's room. She "eavesdrops." It seems that the girl is looking forward to seeing a young man at her party. He plays sports. He is a dreamboat. This is some scandalous shit, y'all.

Then my brain fell out my left ear because in the next scene, I find out that Chrisley is actually the childrens' father. Maybe it's like that Clay Aiken situation. I don't know. I don't judge. Much. Out loud. Okay, so Chrisley is ironing his pants and complaining about it, while Mom tells him that she's concerned that Savannah (oh yay she does have a name) wants to touch a boy's butt or perhaps have her butt touched by said boy.

Chrisley does not want Savannah to get involved in any butt business, either, but he also really can't be troubled right now because fashion. This man has a closet that is seriously bigger than my bedroom. And now you're waiting for me to make a closet joke, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction.

Mom tries on a dumpy mom outfit and Chrisley camel toe-shames her. Teen boy borrows an outfit from Chrisley. Savannah gets dolled up for her party and once again name checks Valentino. I think the message here is Chrisley and Co. love fashion. Except Mom. Mom is just some walking uterus that Chrisley picked up back when he was a cashier at Coldwater Creek, I guess.

Party time!

Savannah's party is underway, and the theme appears to be "The Inside of Jeannie's Bottle." The amount of sheer fabric coupled with candelabras is making me very nervous. Graphics keep appearing on the bottom third of the screen, inviting me to play Chrisley games online while I watch, because even the producers know that this show is boring as hell, and they feel badly that they're not fulfilling their obligation to entertain me.

Oh hey! We're in the last act of the show, and they've just thought to start putting people's names on the screen! Thanks for that! I guess teen boy is named Chase, and the younger boy is named Grayson, because of course they are. I think Mom's name is Vessel or something. Irrelevant.

Chrisley is on high alert, because Savannah and Chase are surrounded by tempting teen genitals. This is a god damned nightmare for Chrisley. Savannah introduces Chase to her friends, who are all "models." The dreamy sports player shows up, and I'm pretty sure Chrisley recognizes him from high school as the guy who used to stuff him in his locker after fifth period, but he plays it cool. Instead of having the cops remove this grown man from a child's birthday party, Chrisley just humiliates the shit out of Savannah by repeatedly mentioning out loud that Savannah is attracted to the man, which is like, sooooo embarrassing #OMG #killmenow #liferuined that Savannah will probably never text him again. Well played, Chrisley? I guess?

Meanwhile, Chase takes a "model" to the backseat of his Range Rover, but Chrisley smells sex on the air like the teen fun ruining bloodhound that he is, so that gets squashed pretty quick. Then Savannah gets a white Mercedes convertible with a big red bow, which is a surprise to exactly nobody, but Savannah finally flexes her acting muscles by pretending that it was. Good for her. She deserves it (gag).

The next day, Savannah drives her car and wears some stupid sunglasses. Chrisley lazily scolds Chase for courting that young lady at the party. Chase says "YOLO" and a bunch of other stupid shit, Chrisley fires back with what I assume is a freestyle rap, and then they all go to bed.

Goodnight, Chrisley.
Goodnight, Wife.
Godnight, Savannah, with your charmed little life.
Goodnight Chase,
The teenaged son.
And goodnight Grayson, the soda-drinking one.
You're all a bunch of assholes.
Goodnight.

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