I Heart TV

Many times in my self-righteous 20's, I've told people things like: watching TV makes you stupid/retarded; TV is a vapid past-time; TV is rarely educational, etc. Most of the time, I'm right. However, there are nights when you don't want to do anything but turn off your brain, and that's where TV comes in.

Some people opt to watch things like the History Channel, or even the Travel Channel. But, no, those are too high class for me. I prefer the so-called "chick channels" like WE, OH, etc. Why? Well, because their shows, at 10:00 on a Sunday evening, are things like: Extraordinary Pregnancies--in which a calcified fetus is extracted from a 76-year old Moroccan woman's body; 760-lb. woman-- in which a morbidly obese woman beats the odds and slims down to 450 lbs.; Intervention-- in which a junkie's family sits him/her down in a hotel suite, and convinces said junkie to undergo treatment for addiction-- junkie usually fails, and end-of-show credits feature sub-title things that read: so-and-so was last seen living in a car with a known drug addict; Daddy's Spoiled Little Girl-- in which thirty-something women are seen throwing tantrums over not getting new cars or new houses; and, my ultimate fave, The Secret Lives of Women.

That last one is a theme show, so it'll be something like: The Secret Lives of Women--Lesbians; The Secret Lives of Women-- Transsexuals; The Secret Lives of Women-- mother of quintuplets; The Secret Lives of Women-- Porn Star. The best one ever, in my opinion, was The Secret Lives of Women-- Surgeons. What?! Like that's a secret a woman would keep from friends or family-- "Peggy, don't you work at the university hospital as a neurosurgeon?" "No, I'm actually a cashier at Save-A-Lot." Notice the other Secret Lives of Women shows all feature something sort of late-night racy. Since when is being a surgeon on par with being a call girl? A show on a latter is a lot more entertaining.

Anyway, my late night TV watching goes in spurts, and will stop tomorrow when I'm handed 44 essays to evaluate in a reasonable amount of time. Until then, keep the trash coming. I love all things tacky-- and I'm insanely jealous of the 3-foot high plaster sombrero-wearing burro my neighbors put out on their porch.