Reality Remorse

So...the other day I got sucked into watching 1.5 hours of the classy VH1 production I Love Money. Yup. A descendent of Survivor, it's about a bunch of people doing anything for a ridiculous amount of money none of them deserve. This was right after a brain numbing full hour of For the Love of Ray Jay, one of VH1's wonderful interpretations of The Bachelor. All in all, it was 2.5 hours of screeching, bad fake accents, bleeped-out profanity, fake boobs and shirtless toolboxes. I ended up going to bed at 2 a.m.

The next morning I woke up with a strange, familiar feeling. You know, the feeling you get the day after you eat a really, big, fat, meal and go straight to bed. Or after you spend A LOT of money on something you don't need. I call it, my friends, reality remorse. Because by waiting out to see if Stripper 1 tears off Stripper 2's weave I paid a dear opportunity cost. I could have been reading a good book to better myself. I could have been...*sob*...sleeping!

What happened to reality TV anyway?? Since when did watching reality TV become about public humiliation? Since when did people turn to reality shows to indulge in the lowest-common-denominator kind of entertainment? Could it have something to do with the fact that we've come to associate TV-watching with gluttony; stuffing our faces with chips and soda on the couch?

Sigh. I guess I'll just steer clear of reality shows for now. Or VH1 for that matter. I'm sticking to my Law & Order though. Love that show.