Rec and Warning - Skins - Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery when done poorly

Left -awesome. Right -strange guy trying to tear his shirt off.

There are so many reasons why the US version of "Skins" is a mockery of the original, and going over them all would take far too much time, effort and energy. Plus it would be depressing. So instead, I'll just demonstrate why the US version of "Skins" sucks by explaining why the first season UK version is pretty freaking awesome, if cracktastic.

Show Rec - Miranda - "You know when you get nervous socially, you end up lying to impress?"

Miranda and her ridiculously hot friend Gary.

Gary: Look, I just popped in to ask, you're not with anybody or married or anything, are you?

Miranda: Yep, yep. Of course, yeah.

Gary: Really? Kids?

Miranda: Yeah, got two. Orlando and... Bloom. You?

Gary: No, no. Still single.

Miranda: Me too!

Gary: You just said you were married.

Miranda: Divorced now.

Gary: And the kids?

Miranda: Dead.

Gary: Really? What happened?

Miranda: They froze. They froze to death, Gary. It's a funny story, actually. Well. Not funny haha, but funny in that it's almost unbelievable. You see, we were on holiday in the Himalayas at base camp of Everest and they were just running around in shorts and a T-shirt. And I kept saying,  'Put your coat on! You'll catch your death!' And they did!

I watched the entire aired series of Miranda in a day and a half. It would have been less, but I had to work and sleep. Stupid work and sleep, getting in the way of awesome.

Miranda is me. Granted, she's British, seven inches taller, eleven years older, has an incredibly hot friend Gary, and a name that's spelled properly, but still. If I unleashed all of my social anxiety and quirks, I would sound British, grow seven inches, and age a decade quick enough. It shouldn't be too difficult to find myself a ridiculously hot man to pine after, and I suppose I could legally spell my name right if I really wanted to make the comparison complete.

See, Miranda sings in public. Not just little jingles, but entire songs. She dances often. And badly. She lies compulsively (and outrageously) when in the presence of any mildly awkward social situation. Her mother is ashamed of her, her friends are embarrassed by her, and she has to be the most amazing mostly-fictional character ever.

Social Awkwardness and Making Friends for Dummies (AKA, Me)

At the hardened age of twenty-two, I've come to a depressing realization.

I have no idea how to make friends.

I'm terrible at it. Which is hilarious, because back when I couldn't form a complete sentence I could still sit in a circle with a bunch of other toddlers and play with my blocks in a companionable fashion. Now, I sit in a group of unfamiliar people and I stare as charmingly as possible at the table while trying not to say anything too unintentionally offensive. If I can stumble my way through small talk without making anyone chuckle nervously before edging away, I consider the evening a success. Making an actual friend during one of these awkward encounters? Only if they have an even greater social handicap than I do, and who really wants to hang out with those guys anyway?