First season of Entourage, various vodka drinks, home alone on a Saturday night
One does not usually plan in advance to be home alone on a Saturday night, but if you find yourself in that position, you might as well drink Ketel One mixtures and watch four hours of a show about people who leave the house a lot (mostly to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on things or to have sex with models, or in a busy evening, both).
These don't look like DVD rips. They're not even HDTV. Neither are they perfectly encoded; you may have to adjust the aspect ratio slightly so that Turtle doesn't look skinny. But the picture's crisp and the audio doesn't glitch out; all in all, a good bootleg. The Torrentator has been forbidden from linking readers to specific set of files, but if you come across a torrent of the first two seasons of Entourage with filenames beginning in 3-digit episode codes (SEE), it is probably the same one. Download it! HBO will write a letter to your ISP, and they in turn will hassle you about it. Just so you know.
Vodka drinks are an excellent choice here. Begin with three Bloody Marys (Mr & Mrs T's or Spicy V8 will be fine). Be sure to spoon eight or nine olives into each. If you are fussy, you may slice and add a wedge of lemon, then coat the top with ground pepper. Sophisticates will insist on things like fresh celery, pickled onions, string beans, asparagus. But come on. You're watching TV on the computer by yourself. Who are you trying to impress?
Entourage takes several episodes to settle in, and really most of the 1st season to find its rhythm. But you notice from the first scene of the pilot that this is a boy show. It is about boys who are too busy surfing on the slushy top froth of Los Angeles celebrity to concern themselves with growing up — and why should they? So long as Vince (the meal ticket) remains beautiful and popular, everything will be free, everyone they encounter will beam with willingness, and love will shine in at them from all directions like the spotlights of an ATF siege on a cult compound. Even the ostensible figure of adult responsibility, superagent Ari Gold, takes only the most feeble stabs at introducing the pressures of business life before ordering another bottle of Patron for the table. Jay Z bumps them into the clubs and Joe Walsh rocks them out through the credits. It is a potent fantasy.
Switch to vodka and pomegranate with plenty of ice around episode six. Jeremy Piven is starting to steal the show. You want everything to be tart and sweet.
In the real world, only a few hungry pretty boys turn red-hot each year, and fewer still will convert the movie star stint into an acting career. But here the spectre of failure never hovers longer than a 2-episode arc. When the worst danger faced is a potentially broken lease on a $300,000 Rolls Royce, real pathos will not be part of the picture.
Nor do you want it to be! Drunk alone on a Saturday night with season 3 already choking up your DSL, pathos is available offscreen. Double-click the next episode instead; Dave Navarro's guitar buoys and Perry Farrell wants to be your super hero. Let the glitter hypnotize you and nothing else can penetrate. Just one more half hour, honestly, then fill up the ice cube trays and go to sleep.