Reality Shmeality

I spent three hours of my life this week watching the season finale of The Bachelor. These are three hours I will never get back. I am annoyed on various levels but let’s begin with this. “Reality” TV has taken over my life.

When it all started, it was easy to pass on Survivor and even Season 47 of the Real World. Reality shows were few and far between. But now, at least every 3^rd show is “reality”-based, which leaves a dummy like me, glued to the likes of The Mole and The Amazing Race simply because I’m too cheap to pay for cable.

But what had me particularly tweaked the other night was the drama of it all. Three attractive people moping about on a television set, wondering if one attractive person will choose them or the other attractive person. Did I mention that every one on this show is attractive? And I feel bad for the hot guy as he breaks down over the stress of dating 25 beautiful women. He’s exhausted, people, let him be. Show some compassion for the insta-celebrity! And the girls, well, the girls. Yeah, I can see why these poor girls had to resort to a television program to find a date. It’s not easy being cute, petite, friendly, oh and did I mention attractive? Yeah, those are qualities that are a real detriment when you’re out there braving the dating waters.

I like the concept of The Average Joe. Twenty or so guys that range from Balding to Nerdy to Socially Inept. Anyway you throw them together with one hot girl and she chooses one. Oh, but wait, there’s a twist – you toss in a couple of model-esque men a couple weeks in and see where the lady’s heart lands. Hmm...tough one. And while I hated seeing the poor Joes get blown off one by one like candles on a birthday cake – it was closer to “reality” than watching a bunch of hot people talk about feeling “a spark.” Come on, these are “spark” people, they’re nothing but “spark.” They’re sparktacular.

But enough of these spark people, theirs is a tribe unto itself.

I guess the moral of the story is – I want my life back. I want to spend the day talking to people about my life and not the lives of strangers on Tuesday morning. I want to write blogs about W’s worthlessness and Obama’s awe-inspiring-ness, not on whether or not Matt and Shayne will make it (oh, come on – they’re heading straight for Splitsville, do not pass Go, do not collect 200 dollars.) I want to blame Reality TV for the fact that I spend three nights of the week glued to the television and giving the ol’ stink eye to the phone every time it rings. I’m looking for a scapegoat here, people and Reality TV looks like just the right kind of sacrifice to offer up at the Alter of Loserdom.

But enough of that, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to pop some corn for American Idol.