So I finally caught the show. I was so flipping excited about it. When you are as obsessed with Lifetime as I am, how could you not?
Each time that “Based on a True Story” fades in and out on the screen, I am hooked, line and sinker. I am in the for the long haul on this one. It doesn’t matter if I had plans, should be making plans, or whatever. I drop everything for a true story Lifetime Original Movie. I just found out the other day that there are three Lifetime channels. Three. One is just devoted to movies. If I ever become wealthy enough to be able to obtain that channel through cable, it will be all over for me. I might as well start my collection of miu miu’s and bedroom slippers, and move my bed into the living room, because that is it.
Anyways, I tuned in for the premiere show last Wednesday. Besides the dramatic re-dramatizations of the situations, it was good.
The first woman to tell her story lives less than 20 miles from my hometown in Iowa. Who-da-thunk? Small-town Iowa teacher gets accused of having sexual relations with a student which turns out not to be true. Not only was it pretty crazy, but I remember a fellow staff writer covering that trial in 2010. I had to format the story onto the page of our paper. So it was completely crazy to think that this was now on Lifetime. Why was the fact that this was going to be on my most favorite, coveted channel not publicized in our area? Bad reporter, Carrie, bad reporter.
When Dateline ran an hour-long special about a cold case murder being solved in our area this past summer, I tuned in. And tuned in. I think I watched it a total of five times. So I was disheartened and excited to learn of this case. And of course, I laid in bed for another hour pondering the re-enactment. Not the case itself, but instead if I could perhaps be a Lifetime movie. If something dramatic and crazy happened so near me, maybe me or someone I know has the capability. Oh, I heard some rumors about certain people, the gossip of small town living. But me, well, my life is still pretty boring. I have a few dramatic tales, some funny anecdotes, but that’s it. I know, I know … I should be grateful for that. Yet, it makes me a bit sad. I feel a little left out.
Perhaps someday, I will be crazy enough for such an honor. Until then, I will continue to watch other women and their wacked-out situations played out on t.v. for enjoyment. Such a wicked sentiment, right?