You Can’t Do That On Television

For our last guest poster, we have the ever hysterical Kristin of who is always Full of Snark. And she is talking about on of my favorite topics, TV. I'm back tomorrow, I promise.

Every time one of my fellow bloggers asks about guest posts, I am always one of the first people to be all “pick me, choose me, love me.” Oh wait, that was Meredith Grey.

But I always am totally eager to do it because….well, I’m not sure why. I would already be writing a post for that day on my own site and those people get enough of my inane drivel. Why would I subject others to it as well?

Basically, I’m a shameless famewhore, that’s why. Plus, I love Jodifur and we’re so internet BFFs. We have bonded many a time over our love of American Idol and our hatred of plants.

So I decided, since she was nice enough to let me take over her site for a day, that I would write an ode to reality television. And how I am lured by its glowing television glow week in and week out.

But I’m not a poet. And I’m not even sure what an Ode entails. And I’m sure it has something to do with iambic pentameter or some poetry nonsense, but the fact is I don’t even remember how many syllables are in each line of a Haiku.

Instead, I figured I would talk about what it would be like to be on one of these reality programs. Because we all know we’ve thought about how we’d kick ass on Amazing Race, or would totally fall in love on The Bachelor or how we would like to make out with Simon on American Idol. What? Oh, just me then.

So I have picked three reality television shows that I would like to be on – The Bachelor, The Mole and Rock of Love with Bret Michaels. And I will tell you exactly how my experience would go if I were to be lucky enough to not have to work and could give up weeks at a time to pimp my famewhore self out on national television.

The Bachelor

Let’s face it, I’m 30, I’m single and I live alone with my two cats. Why shouldn’t I be on The Bachelor? I ask you, who wouldn’t want to date me? Clearly I’m quite a catch.

There are a few things that could go wrong. One, I do not own any dresses with sequins, and I’m sure that would deny me a rose. Two, those bitches are all size zero. I am not. Three, what happens if I make it to the final three and forgo my individual room and go to the fantasy suite with The Bachelor? How could you ever face your co-workers and your family? They will know you are a SLUT.

In reality, I wouldn’t make it past the first episode. Two words – free booze. I’d be a drunken, slurry mess by the time the first rose ceremony rolled around.

The Mole

I never watched this show until this current season and that was mostly because Jodi was all “watch The Mole! It is teh awesome! Even without Anderson Cooper!” And that was all it took for me to watch. Plus it is summer and there is not much else on.

The first time I watched it, I was unsure about the plot. Basically one person is the mole and is sabotaging everyone else. Or something. I still get confused when they reveal who the fake ghosts and mummies are on Scooby Doo, so I’m going to be blown away by whoever the mole is, come the end of the show. I just hope there is a mask involved and Velma and Fred are there.

In reality if I was on this show, since I’m not the best secret keeper in the world, all it would take would be one drunken night with all of the contestants and I’d slurringly shout “I’m the MOLE, bitches!” And then giggle and pass out in my vat of wine.

Rock of Love

Who would NOT want to be on this show? And I’m not talking about going on to make out with Bret Michaels and his nasty thinning hair and collection of hideous bandanas. I vomited in my mouth a little just typing that. I’m talking about DRAMA. To the millionth degree!

Although, I’d be in trouble the first night when Bret takes sexy photos of you for your tour badge. Because I’d flash my granny panties and full-length Spanx sucking in all the fat rolls and the sexiness would be gone and I’d be booted before my first can of celebratory Bret’s Brew.

And I’d be OK with it because there’s no need to have to show up all those skanks with my pole sliding-down abilities. Straight from the playground to VH1. Wheee!

Oh wait, that’s not what they use that pole for?

And now you see why I’m a watcher. Not a doer.