Wanna go for a drive? 

Back with my belated recap of 666 Park Avenue. In the words of Scarlett O’Hara ‘God as mah witness, I will try to be better about my re-capping!’ Or something like that. Lets have some demi-sec sparkling riesling and embrace the dark side, shall we?

I am trying to embrace characters’ real names. Am I becoming attached to the show? Ugh. Its entirely possible. Anyway, up first we find Blondie (Jane) trapped in the basement. Remember how, all during the last episode, I kept telling her NOT to open the door? She didn’t listen and now she’s got problems. Spooky, creepy, pre-adolescent problems. Nerdy (Henry) is here to save her.

Silly girl. Stop. Opening. Doors.

Feral little girl in the basement? Nice touch! But I thought the dolls were even creepier. Dolls are just creepy. Like clowns.

Next we find the Writer in the laundry with a new character – Annie . Apparently she’s on the obituary beat at some NY paper. Writing classifieds for the dead isn’t enough for her though. Cue Gavin The Devil. A little advice; don’t say you’ll do ‘anything’ to fix your career to The Devil. Now I’ll just call her Obituary Annie.

She thinks that if you write obituaries, making them up and totally embellishing people’s lives is an acceptable practice. That won’t get you fired at all. Really. At least not in this version of New York Journalism 101.

Bitch Photographer and The Writer are back to bed, apparently more successful than the first episode until Single White Female Assistant barges in! That wouldn’t get a person fired either, would it?

Back to Jane and Henry, in their improbably great apartment, blah, blah, blah, reviewing building blueprints. She is serious about her renovations! This is going to get expensive for Gavin. So we’re off to see The Devil for permission to remodel. Turns out it is the anniversary of his daughter’s death and…we’re back to discussing renovations and blueprints. He is strangely reticent to share the blueprints, and then suddenly he isn’t. I think I have whiplash.

Let’s go visit Vanessa, shall we? I need some scheming. Oh wait, she’s really called Olivia here. Trying to get the names straight. Kind of. She’s been shopping! I would love to go shopping with her. Seriously, I am guessing there would be wall to wall glasses of champagne.

Back to Obituary Annie and the fictional obituary she wrote, which turned some poor average perfectly normal man into a cold war super spy and got published for reals and is all over the news. This actually smacks of reality since, here in New York, we do have a major news outlet that specializes in reading newspapers on air as part of their actual news reporting program. The Devil approves of this career move, so she embraces her fictional journalistic efforts as a career stepping stone. This won’t end well. The Devil always gets his due. Especially on this show.

Now Henry and The Devil are playing racquetball. The Devil gives him a little lecture on ambition and love. Henry is getting schooled by Old Scratch! But what I really want to know is how Beelzebub has so much time off!

Cut to Olivia and Jane, out to lunch. I happen to notice that Jane’s roots need a touch up and…suddenly we’re talking about her sex life. Awkward. Which of course should naturally segue to cryptic talk of the dead… and…cut to Obituary Annie, who apparently STILL hasn’t gotten caught for fictionalizing her work. Instead she is off to rewrite the obituary for her mother as fiction and…her fiction becomes reality again! Ta-dum! The Devil at work. Actually, I am starting to wonder if he isn’t Ricardo Montalban reincarnated.

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Just a little dinner with The Devil! Num-num! Can I have some of that Burgundy?

Drunk Mommy with this weeks installation of 666 Park Avenue, the demonic real estate porn. We begin with a tender, romantic moment between the Artist Formerly Known as John Locke and…his building. Awww. If I owned that building, I would have Patsy Cline in my heart at all times, too. Of course, I would hopefully not be The Devil, but that’s just me.

We find Blonde Wife Manager and one of the doormen entering a vacant apartment. Blonde Wife is bewildered by the tenant’s sudden (unrealistic) departure and she (realistically) immediately starts planning the capital improvements that will start jacking up the rent. She’s really catching on to this management gig!

Creepy noises lead her to a hole in the wall. Big mistake lady! Now we get to have a moment straight out of The Birds. Though Tippy Hedren, she ain’t. I am enjoying all the allusions to classic suspense films though which, crap, makes this somewhat less Terrible.

Blondie’s necklace, suspiciously highlighted in the previous episode, was stolen by The Drake’s Resident Thief. Ta-dum! She coincidentally tells the Resident Thief that the necklace was stolen.

Cut to Bitch Photographer Wife in the hospital, post elevator crushing. Complaints, complaints, bitch, bitch, bitch. Writer husband tries to empathize but really comes off sounding like a weenie. Enter Single White Female Assistant. You know, the one who likes to display her ta-tas to the Writer and the rest of the neighborhood? Watch out dude. She has keys to your apartment and your wife is not there to protect you.

Back to our naive young Manager Couple. Just like a real husband, Nerdy Cute Husband accuses Blond Wife of ‘provoking’ the birds. Then, instead of having the fight that would then naturally ensue in real life, they head out to a party where…we find out that they are not married. WTF? Now they have to just be Blondie and Nerdy.

Nerdy and John Locke have a brief chat about the $100,000,000 deal that Locke is closing. Remember how last week Nerdy had $16 in his bank account? Locke isn’t consulting with him because of his financial acumen. LOL. Love TV!

New Lonely Lady Tenant character gets macked on by John Locke at the party. Where is Vanessa Williams when you need her? I’m looking for some conniving!

Back to Blondie and Nerdy in bed, post party. Oops, she forgot the clothes in the dryer and has to go to the basement. Having apparently not learned anything from the bird incident, she follows mysterious noises to a closed door. Why do I feel like I am going to spend much of the life of this show wanting to scream at the TV ‘BLONDIE! DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!’ But, of course she opens the door.

And here we are in a perfect vintage apartment with a corpse on the floor. AGH! And then she wakes up in bed, all that laundry is folded nice and neat. Wish someone would do that for me, even if they had to scare the crap out of me first.

Nerdy tells Blondie that Locke and Vanessa Williams are coming over for dinner. Yikes! What do you cook for The Devil?

Exterminator shows up for the birds. Totally prepared to do mass murder, since apparently there are thousands. Whee! That should smell good and not bother the tenants at all.

Cut to the Writer, trying to peep on his wife’s SWF Assistant. So sad, she’s not on display today. Exterminator and Blondie intrude on his, um, private moment and…whoops, there she is! Picture windows, large as life and twice as lacy in pink!

Nevermind, back to Exterminator and Blondie, now in the basement. Apparently Exterminators do demolition now and he’s ready to tear down some walls? Isn’t that a union job? Back to Locke – oh let’s just call him The Devil – enticing the Single Lady Tenant with the promise of love, sweet love. But what will she have to do for it, I wonder? Back to Exterminator, bungling the demolition, cut to Resident Thief having weird psychic moment with the Exterminator’s lucky rabbit’s foot. Back to Bitch Photographer in the hospital with Blondie, who brought her burgers. Perhaps hoping she won’t sue the building for getting chomped on by the elevator? LOL. Of course she will.

Finally, a brief moment of Vanessa conniving. Yay! And then back to Blondie. Don’t open the door! Just kidding, its her own apartment, but someone has left her a mysterious package. Ta-dum! Time for a cute couple-cooking-dinner-together moment, until Nerdy announces they are about to get fired. Blah, blah, blah. Conflict of interest. Blah, blah, blah, The Devil is going to be swindled? As if. He and Vanessa are coming for dinner and bringing some good Burgundy! Jealous!

Rut-roh. We’re back with the Exterminator, who is stupid drunk and about to get taken down by some Angry Birds! That is actually pretty gross. Luckily a cab takes him out first and the Building Thief’s premonition is fulfilled. Ta-dum!

Back to The Drake where the Writer is fresh from the shower, but about to get dirty with the SWF Assistant who has broken into his apartment. Oh! He shuts her down! Aaannnd back to Blondie, Nerdy, The Devil and Vanessa eating pot roast. Vanessa applies the thumbscrew about Blondie and Nerdy’s marriage plans. And back to Lonely Female Tenant. She’s getting some! Not so lonely, I guess. And now we find out from The Devil that there was a murder in her apartment 60 years ago. What does it all mean?

Don’t fret, we’re about to find out.

Lonely Lady Tenant’s new dude walks out on her. Oops! He’s married! And cut to Blondie in bed, dreaming about the door in the basement? DON’T OPEN THE DOOR! Argh. She opened the door. Again. Surprise! The corpse is still there. Back to Lonely Lady Tenant…oops, you did bad, but The Devil is there to justify it to you. She’s been around for a long time! Killing for love and to stay young. Wow. Good plot twist.

Can I mention how much I love the exterior of the building? Can I also mention that the doorman used to be the coach on one of my favorite formerly Terrible shows – Make It or Break It? We’ll call him Coach. Anyhoo, its another beautiful morning and The Devil is having another lovefest with his building and Nerdy. Vanessa has woken up early and they connive briefly.

Bitch photographer is home and chastises the Writer for not going through the mail. Bitch gets 300K from The Devil for her pain and suffering and The Writer gets a sneak peek at the SWF Assistant in her panties for…his pain and suffering?

Back to Coach and Blondie. The Devil tells her to leave the birds alone and clean up the basement already. Manager falling down on the job! Back to the basement, back to the door, do I have to say it again, Blondie? DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!!!!

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What do adult New Yorkers love – dare I say it? – more than alcohol? Real estate porn. Especially aspirational real estate porn which, according to the address listed in the title, is what this show is about. But this is less Million Dollar Listing: New York and more Rosemary’s Baby.

The premise? Two young, beautiful and ambitious kids (newlyweds, natch) are interviewing to be the Managers-in-Residence of 666 Park Avenue, a gorgeous Beaux Arts building on the Upper East Side that houses 203 luxurious units. But given the frantic opening scene of a musician – the previous Manager? – desperately (and unsuccessfully) trying to escape the building (mid-thunderstorm, no less), I think we can assume that all is not kosher in this palatial abode.

Their names are Jane – let’s call her Blonde Wife – and Henry – let’s call him Nerdy-Cute Husband. So twee!!! Also, their bosses are the grim-faced building owner, the Artist Formerly Known As John Locke from Lost, and his wife, the ever scheme-y Vanessa Williams. Really, in all her roles, she’s always scheming. Trust me on this one.

Now where do I start picking this apart? Let’s start with the job interview, where they are informed that the job is very part-time.

LMFAO. ROFL. LOL. LOL. LOL.

I work in real estate folks*, and let me tell you, there is not a 203-unit building anywhere that is a ‘part-time’ management job. Especially not a building that is at least 100 years old. Especially not with full-time staff at the door, maintenance staff and the uber-wealthy, demanding residents that one would expect to find at such a prestigious address. Even if there are a few ‘rent-stabilized’ tenants. Ha! In New York, in a building like this, those people would have been bought out long ago.

I am not aware of Building Manager ever being a ‘couples’ sort of job share situation. The most realistic moment is when John Locke turns them down. The most unrealistic is when Blonde Wife’s interest in historic preservation turns him around. Puh-leeze. The owner of a building like that will want nada to do with anyone who wants to preciously preserve every iota of its historical charm. That crap is expensive! The permitting process alone makes building owners shudder.

Which brings me to – why is there no building management company? No buffer between the apparently super-wealthy owner and the tenants who would likely bug him about every clogged toilet? As if. Anyone who lives in a New York apartment building knows that there are at least three levels of Building Management between you and the actual owner of the building. Unless you rent in a two family house in Bed-Stuy. Then you only have floorboards.

Extra suspension of disbelief points for their job application – no credit check? Background check? Drug test? No licensing or relevant previous experience? Their credentials of being ambitious and beautiful are enough? Wow. Of course that makes sense. Let’s give them keys to their own two bedroom, two bath, lovingly preserved, working fireplace,  love shack! And somehow the fact that they let their checking accounts dwindle to a collective $17 doesn’t indicate any sort of fiscal irresponsibility or questionable judgement. Sigh.

Creepy, improbable events ensue. Spontaneously bleeding people! Creepy zombies in the basement of flickering lights! Zombie people regenerate and are married to spontaneously bleeding people! Vanessa Williams takes Blonde Wife shopping and buys her a $4,000 dress! Everybody comments on Blonde Wife’s necklace! Could it be a future plot point? Who cares! We just want to know more about the real estate!

Reasons why Blonde Wife is a Crap Manager:

• Fixing a flickering light while it (and the electricity) are turned on;
• Cleaning and preserving a tile floor in a rarely-used basement will never be a building priority if the elevators aren’t working;
• No Manager in their right mind would light so many candles in a building which obviously doesn’t have adequate fire suppression fittings. Even if they are planning to douse them with water by naughty splashing around in the tub with their Nerdy-Cute Husband.

Which brings us to the other hot young couple in the building. We meet The Writer and his wife, Bitch, just post-coitus. She seems less than, um, satisfied by their apparently lackluster sex life so he spends lots of time peeping in on the hot blonde neighbor. Who has GIANT FREAKING WINDOWS that apparently require no sort of window covering. Even for her to sleep IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY! Oy vey. Very realistic. All hot young chicks love sleeping in full daylight and having a bank of at minimum sixty windows looking in on their nubile slumbering self. This is where the show starts to actually get creepy.

Just kidding. Really, I keep expecting Ugly Betty to show up.

Oooh! Then Hot Blonde Exhibitionist shows up as Bitch’s new Assistant and we get a Single White Female vibe. Now, in a very realistic turn, she is an Assistant or Intern of some sort at Elle, so, of course she can afford the very spacious apartment we’ve been peeping in on. On Park Avenue. Obviously, she is either a call girl or trust fund baby on the side. Or both.

Cut to Blonde Wife researching cryptic building history. Ta-Dum! Cut to Regenerated Zombie and her Spontaneously Bleeding Husband tripping down memory lane together. Ta-Dum! Cut to John Locke and Vanessa Williams eyeing new Building Managers like they want to eat them for dessert. Ta-Dum! Cut to the sort of elevator disaster that every New Yorker lives in perpetual fear of. Ta-Dum! Swelling orchestra music and dangling plot points for next week. Ta-Dum!

Despite its Terribleness, I will tune in next week. So that I can lust after the building – at least the architecture, I give them credit for that. I want those high ceilings! And also because I keep wondering if we will find out if Blonde Wife is also the Walking Dead – she is so skinny! Somebody feed her a sandwich, or another glass of champagne.

*Not in management. Take everything I write with a grain of salt. And creative license. And a side of sarcasm. And a glass of wine. 

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