Let’s hug it out, bitches – in a congratulatory kinda way: Entourage, Hung and True Blood each are getting another season.

So said HBO today, according to Backstage.

For those who are counting, that means Season 7 for Entourage, Season 3 for True Blood and Season 2 for Hung. All well-deserved.

Let’s face it, the Entourage boys are fun. How could you not be happy for Turtle that he’s dating an honest-to-goodness Hollywood starlet? And how could you not be touched by Turtle’s deep-seated friendship with Johnny Drama that he was even willing to ask Jamie-Lynn to do a makeout scene with Johnny on his TV show?

I was even feeling badly for Vince that he’s all alone, kinda. And E that he’s bored at his work. Though his little girlfriend was totally right – why was he bothering with that when he doesn’t have to? Especially when it isn’t really working out.

As for Hung, well, that show is a winner. It’s not what I expected, except it is exactly what I expected – something funny and whimsical and smart from HBO. HBO has rarely disappointed. And even when it’s not quite hit (John From Cincinnati), it’s still been … interesting.

I think the budding friendship between Ray and Tanya is really nice and could become one of the better buddy stories of current-day television. And I like the dynamic between Ray and his children and the twins with each other. I like that the kids are neither perfect nor loser misfits. They’re teenagers going through teenage angst and teenage phases.

And you know that neighbor wife totally has her eye on Ray and as soon as she finds out, she’s gonna make him sleep with her in exchange for not telling her husband. Or, she’ll just flat-out hire him. Can’t decide yet.

And then, True Blood.

What can you say about this show that hasn’t already been said? It’s gory, it’s nearly pornographic at moments and it’s funny. It’s also suspenseful and sweet at the same time.

The scenes between Hoyt and Jessica were absolutely adorable. Both when she told him she had to go to sleep and not to worry that she looked … dead … and when she told him to take his pants off.

I’m finding the whole backstory issue very interesting. Once Bill had explained how he became a vampire, I hadn’t thought much about how he’d lived his life since. Now that we’re seeing how he’d been so bloodthirsty for so long and how much it bothered him, his decision to drink True Blood is in a new light.

Obviously, he had a very strong moral center before being turned, and then being in the Civil War and seeing all the death and carnage made a very strong impression on him.

He felt obligated to his maker to do her bidding, to kill with her and pretend to enjoy the wanton slaughter. But after a while, he couldn’t take another innocent’s life.

Now: Did Mrs. Newlin actually shoot Jason or was that a stun gun? I couldn’t quite tell from the angle? Does Eggs know Maryann’s true nature? Is Tara ever going to be able to get Maryann out of Sookie’s house and why does Maryann latch so much onto Tara?

Lots of questions, another month’s worth of episodes to find out some answers.

All I can say is I’m really glad Lafayette’s back in the game. Love that boy.

By the by, Backstage said True Blood increases its audience every episode, with an average of 3.8 million viewers now tuning in — but 11.2 million when you count the repeats/DVR/On Demand. It’s HBO’s most-watched show since The Sopranos. Nice.

And, according to Backstage, Big Love is returning in January and Flight of the Conchords is likely to return for a third season. The Pacific, a World War II miniseries will air in March and lead up to the return of David Simon to HBO (The Wire, anyone?) with his New Orleans-based drama, Treme.

No word yet on In Treatment and The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, neither of which I watch, though my mother-in-law loved No. 1.

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It had been a while since we had seen Scott on Big Love, and there he appeared last night, all sadness and apologies to Sarah that he hadn’t been around to help her get through the pregnancy and miscarriage.

As Ben punched Scott out last night, the estranged boyfriend seemed … more familiar than in the past.

“Is that the guy from Breaking Bad?” my husband asked.

I answered my husband as I am wont to do, with an offhanded, “Nah, no way.”

Then I paused, looked again. Nah, couldn’t be. By the end of the scene where Sarah and Scott were — ahem — being intimate, I knew it was indeed the hapless Jesse Pinkman from one of my favorite shows on TV, Breaking Bad.

There are two things that make Breaking Bad as awesome as it is: Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul. And Cranston won an Emmy for his awesomeness last year, so that one goes without saying.

So Aaron Paul is on not one, but two of my favorite shows.

On HBO, as Big Love hurtles toward an incredible season finale next weekend, Scott promises to figure prominently into Sarah’s life.

On AMC, Jesse and Walter just escaped from the insanely murderous (and now dead) Tico (they have Emmy awards for guest stars, no?) and from being discovered by Walter’s brother-in-law, Hank, who’s both a total hardass and a total softie.

For those who haven’t seen it yet, Breaking Bad is among that new generation of serialized dramas: Well-written, well-acted and totally dark.. Cranston plays high school chem teacher Walter White, who found out he has terminal cancer.

He’s undergoing chemo, but he ain’t surviving, or, at least, that’s the show’s conceit.

His wife’s pregnant, though, and his insurance isn’t covering the full costs of his treatment. And did I mention he’s a high school teacher? That salary’s not going to cover the costs of treatment. (Side note: How is it that people who don’t make enough money to pay for treatment have the insurance that doesn’t properly cover the treatment and the people who could probably afford, or at least better afford, it, have insurance that covers a lot more of it?)

So, long story short, he ends up becoming a meth dealer with a former student of his. The money’s great, he has all the know-how, and he can’t get the money to pay his bills and enable his family to survive after he dies by any legit means.

Season 2 began a little more than a week ago and I’d forgotten just how amazing it was in the year between seasons. The premise is utterly preposterous, but in an economy like this, perhaps a little less so than last year.

The writing is great, to be sure, but just like Big Love, what makes it a great show is the cast. Big Love is insanely ridiculous with all its schemes on top of schemes and back stabbing and front stabbing and switching allegiances.

And on Breaking Bad, Paul has an even bigger role to play than on Big Love. If Cranston is the show’s emotional center, Paul is the show’s comic relief. Despite how disgusting it was, how could you not laugh when he used acid to break down a body in an upstairs bathtub and then was shocked when it came crashing through the tub to the downstairs hallway?

Almost every time his mouth opens, you have to laugh. Or cry. Or want to punch him in the face? (When he told Tico there was chili pepper in the meth they were giving him? Even I knew that was a moron move.)

He’s the embodiment of something my mom once said about meth: Why would you buy a drug made entirely out of chemicals by someone who failed high school chemistry?

If you’ve never seen either show, check them both out.

Big Love‘s season finale is at 9 p.m. Sunday on HBO and looks to be astoundingly amazing.

Breaking Bad is at 10 p.m. Sundays on AMC and is only two shows in. You should have time to catch up via Netflix and/or this newfangled thing here called the Internet and catch a new star in the making.

Photos via AMC.com

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Tonight was quite possibly the best episode ever of Big Love.

You have to admit, you’ve been waiting for YEARS for Nikki Grant to get hers.

And, frankly, I was glad to see Bill embarrassed by Nikki’s betrayal. He’s always excused Nikki’s behavior and he is always, ALWAYS trying to play one side against the other.

Honestly, I get sick and tired after a while hearing Bill talk about the principle and the hereafter. He was kicked off the compound and his father treats him like crap. He “believes” in the principle because his wife was about to die and he needed money to help care for her, and Nikki to be a nursemaid.

So he sold his soul and his principles to Roman Grant when he needed it; but then he turns on Roman the second he doesn’t personally need Roman anymore. He affiliates himself with Roman when he needs it, then affiliates himself with Albie when he needs it. Then he double-crosses both or either at a moment’s notice.

Barb is in this lifestyle because she had no choice.

Nikki is in this lifestyle because she had no choice.

Margie – she’s in this lifestyle because she’s a crazy little girl whose mother was totally inappropriate. I feel sorry for her because she basically is in it for the love, which she never felt she had. Does she believe in the principle? I don’t really think so.

And yet, I feel sorry for Nikki. She was brought up in this life. Her father and mother are both psychotic, basically. She was given to some old pervert for her first marriage, and didn’t really have a choice in her second, either.

She doesn’t know what she wants, except that she knows she doesn’t want more children. I can’t really blame her, actually. Some good-looking man who’s not related at all to the insanity her life has always been shows her affection, of course she’s going to kiss him back.

It’s not as if she could tell him the truth, even if he didn’t work for the D.A.’s office. Let’s get real.

I’m glad Barb’s family is back in town, though, because it’s added a nice new stress to her storyline.

What I want is for Barb to leave the family and Bill to get what’s coming to him and Nikki to be able to escape the whole cycle of polygamy and Margie to come into her own.

The only one that’s happened is Margie coming into her own, and that’s almost been because she’s been in this plural family.

I was so happy for Anna when she decided to leave the marriage. She was making such a huge mistake to marry them.

So, only two episodes left – what’s going to happen?

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I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the Hendricksons/Grants/Heffmans until the Big Love season premiere aired tonight.

They have got to be the most dysfunctional family this side of The Simpsons. More so, even.

As usual, Nicki is keeping tons of secrets from her families. I have to say, though, she just always looks so guilty about everything; I don’t understand why anyone ever believes a single word she says. Seriously – can anyone remember a single time when she told the truth?

That said, her rooftop declaration was, for a change, brave and selfless (though still dishonest, but for a good reason for a change). Chloe Sevigny is truly a fabulous actress. I’ve never seen a character I so intensely disliked who managed to worm her way into my heart in almost every single episode. Before, of course, she totally ticks me off again.

And while I feel badly for Barb, facing another cancer scare, I’m tired of her feeling sorry for herself. I mean, at least she is trying to take matters into her own hands by bringing Ana into the family, but she’s still playing the, “I want to have a say in my family” victim card.

Look, Barb, you’ve had the chance, more than once, to leave this family. You haven’t taken it. Sure, you love your husband. And you have a love, of sorts, for Nicki and Margie. But you only have part of a husband. And you have two wives. I mean, my husband could tell you that’s just not fair.

As for Margie, she’s basically insane. I mean, let’s face it. She wants a fourth wife in the family so she can have more responsibility. She is no longer the naif. She is as calculating as Nicki is, in her own way. She’s the public face of the company to the gambling interests; she’s been dating Ana along with Bill, for all intents and purposes. And if she can get Ana in the family, she’ll no longer be the newbie.

And Bill? I realized tonight that he just ticks me off. All this preaching about what is holy about the afterlife and all that, it’s really all about him and his needs. Granted, his wives have a lot more freedom than the wives on the compound. A LOT more. But does he not see the toll this is taking on his children? And does he not see history repeating himself with Frankie being kicked out of the compound?

OK, obviously he does. And he’s been conflicted in the past. But I can’t help but feel it all is about what he wants and his hormones. I just somehow got really pissed off last night.

And poor Ana. I got kind of mad at Margie last night when she was basically telling Ana that she’s a loser and being a sister wife is her destiny and the fulfilment of her life. Ana’s got some serious self-esteem issues if she believes that one.

The only person I still hold out hope for is Sarah. She does need to get out of Utah, and far away from her family. She knows this is all wrong, and it’s killing her to see her family fall deeper and deeper into the life.

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As a child of the ’80s, I grew up with television – albeit the kind you had to get up and change the channel on manually. TV commercials were great for bathroom breaks or grabbing a drink from the kitchen.

By high school, we finally got cable and — gasp! — a remote control. HBO ran its movies somewhere along the lines of 35 times a day, and I saw Star Wars more times than I can even count. But no pause button, so if I had to make a trip to the little girls’ room, I’d miss something.

On viewing No. 4,236 of Star Wars, that wasn’t an issue, but if it was the HBO premiere of Down and Out in Beverly Hills, well, you just might have had to miss the part “when a dirty bum meets the filthy rich.”

We had one of those old clunky first-gen VCRs the approximate size of Rhode Island that actually had a remote pause button, but it had to be connected via a cord that snaked across the room. It was so unweildy, actually, that I believe I used it only once, during a marathon viewing of Galactica 1980. (Hey, I was incredibly crushed over the cancellation of the original BSG, I was ready to latch onto anything. Even Wolfman Jack with a Cylon.)

In college, I didn’t really watch much TV the first couple of years, seeing as I didn’t have one in my dorm room. I do recall a friend freshman year who was, more or less, driven out of her room when her roomie and roomie’s boyfriend watched Dirty Dancing on VHS every night for what seemed an eternity but may have been only a week or two.

By junior year, we had a very old TV set with rabbit ears. Still had to change the channel manually. But we had a TV, and it was Chicago, so we got probably a half-dozen stations. Those last two years of college, I ended up seeing every episode of Charles in Charge (hey, when you’re trying to avoid homework, your standards can be extremely low) and my three roommates got me addicted to All My Children.

We watched the finale of Twin Peaks, huddled together on the sofa, screaming as Dale Cooper made his way through the Red Room. We watched American Gladiators religiously, each having “our” own gladiator (Nitro was mine). We would watch Saturday Night Live every week, hoping there was a Wayne’s World skit and ticked off when we’d wasted our time for nothing. (Being in the Central Time Zone, it ended early enough for us to still go out to parties, which didn’t start until really late anyhow.)

TV didn’t play a big part in my life for the first few years out of college; I was busy, I was working. I mean, I stayed up and watched Letterman sometimes and if I had insomnia, I always hoped to catch that infomercial where they spray-painted hair on some balding guy’s head and marveled at how real it looked.

Then came Melrose Place. The guys I worked with were even more addicted than the girls. For one season finale, I ordered a bunch of pizzas and we all yelled at the TV whenever anyone did anything stupid, which was quite often.

I’ve had TV on and off in all the years since, but the last few years brought the most significant changes of all: we got a DVR and had two children. The DVR meant I could still watch the shows I wanted to — Lost, The Sopranos, The Wire — even if they were utterly inappropriate for the kiddies. Just wait ’til they’re asleep and presto!

But even more significantly, it meant I no longer had to watch commercials. Unless I’m watching a live sports event, I virtually never see commercials anymore. Even with Lost and Battlestar Galactica, appointment television if there ever was, I wait until about 15 minutes into the broadcast and start watching. It ends at the same time, but I get to fast-forward through all the commercials.

I consider this to be a golden age of television.

Despite all the reality and competition shows and all the absolute dreck that’s on our hundreds of channels, there are so many truly excellent shows. Battlestar Galactica, 24 (despite Season Six’s crapapalooza), Big Love. We just said goodbye to The Sopranos, The Wire and Jericho.

The serialized drama is king, and I am but a slave to its charms. Science fiction is my favorite, but I just love a good story. And if you can make me laugh in the bargain, it’s all good. (Thanks, Beth, for introducing me to the boys from Supernatural!)

TV’s made me new friends (Jane, Yvonne, Erika, everyone else from the Jericho fandom, plus all the kooky boys from Blogs4Bauer) and made me laugh (check out The Big Bang Theory, if you haven’t already).

This blog is my way of sharing all that with you.

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