REALITY TV CONFESSIONAL
I must confess something to all of you. It's embarrassing. Embarrassing for two reasons:
1.) Because reality TV is certain to kill brain cells by the millisecond, and because last night, at last count, I killed ... well, I killed A LOT OF THEM!
2.) Because at some point during this blog entry, my mother will turn to my father and say, "Remind me again. How much of our retirement and their inheritance DID we spend on their private education?"
At which point my father will rock back in his office chair, close his eyes, and shake his head.
To which my mother will reply disgusted, "Yeah. That's what I thought."
I must confess that I watched a reality TV show last night. I must confess in this public forum that I watched (when not reading my current favorite read QUEEN OF THE BIG TIME by Adriana Trigiani between commercial breaks or providing running commentary on the action to Maddie the Cat, who, let's face it, could care less unless it's attached to kitty kibble) 2 hours of reality TV, because the first half hour wasn't nearly mind-numbing enough.
I must confess ... and this is where it gets very difficult for me ... I must confess, my dear readers, that I watched 2 hours of DOG the BOUNTY HUNTER.
[Insert appalled gasps here.]
I know. It's nearly incomprehensible that I sat glued to the TV and watched, with rapt attention as Dog and his posse nabbed bail jumper after bail jumper ... for 2 straight hours.
And if it couldn't get embarrassing enough, I found myself, in hour 2, wondering why I thought Leland's funky buzz cut-pony tail combo was suddenly so hot to me.
You will pardon me while I run out for a moment. I need to find a rusty hanger to give myself a lobotomy ...
1.) Because reality TV is certain to kill brain cells by the millisecond, and because last night, at last count, I killed ... well, I killed A LOT OF THEM!
2.) Because at some point during this blog entry, my mother will turn to my father and say, "Remind me again. How much of our retirement and their inheritance DID we spend on their private education?"
At which point my father will rock back in his office chair, close his eyes, and shake his head.
To which my mother will reply disgusted, "Yeah. That's what I thought."
I must confess that I watched a reality TV show last night. I must confess in this public forum that I watched (when not reading my current favorite read QUEEN OF THE BIG TIME by Adriana Trigiani between commercial breaks or providing running commentary on the action to Maddie the Cat, who, let's face it, could care less unless it's attached to kitty kibble) 2 hours of reality TV, because the first half hour wasn't nearly mind-numbing enough.
I must confess ... and this is where it gets very difficult for me ... I must confess, my dear readers, that I watched 2 hours of DOG the BOUNTY HUNTER.
[Insert appalled gasps here.]
I know. It's nearly incomprehensible that I sat glued to the TV and watched, with rapt attention as Dog and his posse nabbed bail jumper after bail jumper ... for 2 straight hours.
And if it couldn't get embarrassing enough, I found myself, in hour 2, wondering why I thought Leland's funky buzz cut-pony tail combo was suddenly so hot to me.
You will pardon me while I run out for a moment. I need to find a rusty hanger to give myself a lobotomy ...
Comments
*Shanny
Carrie, this is what I've learned. The "GIRLS" need to be WAAAAAY out there, and I need tattoos. Lots and lots of tattoos!
NeeCee