The beginning of July to me doesn’t just mean fireworks and freedom (although it does signify a reason for me to eat lots of cookies), it also signals the beginning of something wonderful that occurs the first week of every July: the season premiere of Big Brother. Don’t get me wrong, I love my country, and I appreciate the freedom I have to celebrate my freedom however I see fit (usually with at least two desserts and a vodka spritzer of my choice), but my love of Independence Day is typically overshadowed by my love of reality TV. I’m pretty sure our founding fathers wouldn’t have dreamed they were fighting for my right to record television series about decorating cakes (who doesn’t love Cake Boss?), but I’m sure at least a few of them would be on board. After all, Ben Franklin was a chubby guy who presumably liked cake.
So, on the birthday of our nation, I decided to clear out my DVR to make room for the Big Brother episodes that air thrice weekly. I know, three times a week just isn’t enough! But as I began looking at what is on my DVR, I began to realize my choices of television shows aren’t all that mature. In fact, they appear to be the same shows that a sixteen-year-old watches, most likely while she is dodging her babysitting duties, letting her wards play with matches and huff glue.
You see, I like to watch mindless TV. No, not just mindless TV. I like to watch mind-numbing TV. The more ridiculous, the better. Sometimes I’m convinced that I’m actually dumber for the television shows I watch, but I just don’t care.
I began going through the DVR and decided that although I enjoy watching the reruns, I’ve seen all the episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians and don’t need to re-watch douchebag Scott shove a hundred dollar bill down the waiter’s throat, although I do enjoy making fun of the outfits that guy wears. (Really? A fedora? Seriously?!) And if I want to hear Khloe complain about how fat she is, I can just pick up any copy of Us Weekly (about six of which are currently forming a pile in my bathroom). Delete. Easy enough.
I then moved on to the saved episodes of Gossip Girl. This wasn’t so easy for me to delete. My love of Chuck Bass isn’t just on the surface…it’s several layers deep. And what would I do without the constant bickering between B and S? (Although, if I had a friend like either one of them when I was younger, I’m pretty sure I would have developed an eating disorder and an addiction to pills). I also love the voice over on all the scenes and like to pretend that same voice over is present in my daily life, although it certainly isn’t as exciting as the happenings on Gossip Girl. For some reason “Watch out Lisa, there is a steaming pile of dog poo on your dining room floor, and your guests won’t find it appetizing” doesn’t have the same ring to it as voice overs about backstabbing, drug deals gone wrong, and love affairs. Nope. I need this hyped up drama in my life. Keep.
I then moved my attention to episodes of America’s Next Top Model, or ANTM for those of you in the know. This show is a train wreck I enjoy every week, not because I like to watch girls chase their narcissistic dreams to be famous, but because I love making fun of Tyra Banks, the leader of all things narcissistic. She is a walking disaster, and her pep talks about “smizing” and making love to the camera cross so far over the ridiculous line that I can’t turn away. I also like the demeaning things Tyra makes the contestants do each week under the guise that the real world is far tougher than anything done on the show. I’m pretty sure in real life a model doesn’t have to cover herself in peanut butter and then start herself on fire to sell some face cream, but I appreciate the fact that Tyra convinces the models they do. And some of the contestants are hideously ugly, but after a few hours of hair and makeup, they are transformed into somewhat attractive people. I like this show because I tell myself models are only attractive after several hours of makeup (followed by several more hours of binging and purging). I think it’s good for my self-esteem, and looking at Tyra’s huge hips makes me appreciate the art of photoshop and editing. I need this for my sanity. Keep.
Next on the DVR was Project Runway, one of my favorite shows. It chronicles several aspiring fashion designers through several weeks of competition. Although I love the designs, this show frequently reminds me that I’m never the woman they are designing for. Quite honestly, I’m not sure who exactly they are designing for, as I don’t know anyone who would hit up a cocktail party wearing a dress made of sporks and ketchup packets. Maybe I’m just not hip enough to understand fashion, which could be true considering I think flip flops and a hair scrunchy are the perfect accents to every piece. Nah, I don’t need to be reminded I’m not the “sample size 0″…probably because I prefer to sample everything in sight…Delete.
That’s as far as I got on the DVR deleting, because in my effort to delete the mindless shows saved in my DVR, I discovered there was a marathon on of The Girls Next Door, and I just couldn’t resist.