So last night I had the equivalent of TV Whiplash: I went straight from The Sopranos to the J. Lo interview, no pause, no chance to cleanse the viewing palate, nothing. Bam! Talk about a tone shift—it took me a minute or two to regroup.

I was a loyal Sopranos viewer for the first two seasons, but for some reason lately I’d jut lost interest. Too many people to keep up with, and I missed Dr. Melfi, who never seems to be on the show anymore and whose rape was, like, just dropped, never returned to. (That episode was the worst to watch, ever, of anything, I swear.) But then I heard that Ralphie got killed on Sunday’s episode, so when they were re-running it last night, I watched.


If you watched, you know what I’m talking about. I just really, really didn’t need to see all that. Just a hint at what they were doing, what they had to do afterwards, would have sufficed, thanks.

So then, still feeling slightly nauseous/shaky, I flip over to ABC and there’s J. Lo, talking about Ben Affleck, sharing all the intimate details of their relationship, their engagement, and I just thought, again: too much information. I mean, it wasn’t disgusting. (Which is to say: no severed heads.) But it just seemed, I don’t know, weird. I feel bad for her that she felt like she has to tell us all their private stuff. I mean, shouldn’t they get to keep anything to themselves? Then again, maybe they don’t want to. I don’t know. Your engagement story, and how it feels to fall in love with your future husband, that’s the kind of thing you should keep close to you. Guard it. It means more, for longer, that way.

Oh, whatever. That crazy J. Lo. She just does whatever she wants to, when she wants to. Kind of like Tony Soprano. Sort of…..