reality bites

Week after week I feel my brain cells being sucked one by one into the vortex of reality TV.  The Kardashians, Kendra, Bethenney Getting Married?, Gene Simmons Family Jewels, blah, blah, blah.  True confession:  I watched an episode of Kate Plus Eight last week.  I am so ashamed. 

As if that list of shows isn't dangerous enough, I must not neglect to mention the big granddaddy of them all.  It is my Miller Lite of beers...my Ben and Jerry's of ice cream...my Lay's chips and ranch dip of all snack foods...THE REAL HOUSEWIVES.  Folks, this is the satan of all reality shows.  It started in Orange County and it has spawned it's evil seed all over the country to places like New York, Atlanta, New Jersey, Washington DC, and oh help me Lord, Beverly Hills.  This has literally sucked the life out of me for hours each week.  Just ask my husband.  I am so much dumber than I was before this season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey began. 

Remember back in the day when the new season of your favorite show started in the fall and ended in the spring with time off for the holidays?  Television used to take a summer break so we could all go outside and enjoy the warm weather and sunshine.  On a rainy night you may have relented to watching some reruns.  Welcome to television for the twenty-first century.  There is no regular season for any of these reality shows.  The producers ingeniously stagger them throughout the year with just enough overlap so when you think there is light at the end of the tunnel and you might be able to spend an hour reading a good book, the premiere of the DC Housewives airs just before the last episode of the New Jersey Housewives.  Gotcha!  Then there are the reunion shows: parts one, two, and three.  There are the "lost footage" shows.  There are live shows with commentary about the taped shows. You can even rent them on demand. Gotcha good! 

Why are these shows so addicting?  What's the real entertainment value? They walk the line of making you uncomfortable enough to stop watching, but somehow convey enough humanity to keep you hooked. My feelings vacillate between endearment, pity, and embarrassment. Maybe watching makes me feel better about my own life. It's a little like witnessing a train wreck. You want to make sure everyone makes it out alive in the end. 

My current goal in life is to wean myself of this addiction. I think I'm too fragile to rip off the band-aid and turn off the tube for good.  Some progress has been made. I already ditched DC, NJ, and Atlanta.  Kendra and Gene Simmons are no skin off my back.  My weak spots are the new season of the Kardashians and the promise of some new scandalous housewives in Beverly Hills.  If you hear me talking out loud about how Kourtney really needs to dump her loser baby daddy, please schedule an intervention.

Peace,
Laura