Dance for me, monkeys!
Emily and I spent lunch today discussing the horror that is Meet My Folks. (Don’t even get me started.) I can’t really get into to most of this reality TV. I’ve never seen Big Brother, and I half-heartedly watched the first season of Survivor. I went cold-turkey on Real World after the Seattle season. Sometimes I watch the show with Joe from News Radio where he makes the blonde girls eat cockroaches or whatever, but only if I’m at Emily’s house.
The only one that I loved was Love Cruise. Ah, Love Cruise. Emily and I watched every episode, holding our breath until the commerical breaks. We emailed back and forth about it while at work. We discussed the characters like they were… well, characters. It was perfect reality TV for me. I don’t want any time spent establishing motives or backgrounds or whatnot. I want the humiliation and the backstabbing to begin immediately. I want an entire cast of idiots, preferrably with fake hair and even faker breasts. I want there to be a Toni and a Tony and an Anthony. Screw this Temptation Island bullshit. I want Love Cruise 2.