It was a rare night for me last evening, as I watched more TV than I normally do. Technically, the TV was on in the background, while I was working around the house, but that was enough to allow me to get a glimpse at some interesting TV…and I’m using the word “interesting” loosely.
What do you get when you take a passel of 8th graders trapped in adult bodies, and throw them on an island in a romantic setting? Well, it’s “Bachelor in Paradise,” of course! Insecurity, hormones, and dramatics run rampant throughout, with a pinch of rat b@stardness mixed in for good measure.
I’m hopeful that as a whole, the general population is way more intelligent than the participants on the show—because if that’s not the case—I’m VERY worried for the future of this world.
Honestly, I had that nauseous feeling from years gone by, dealing with “friends” from my youth, who were immature and dripping with over-the-top in dramatics, when things didn’t go their way in life. I’m having a hard time understanding why ANYONE would want to watch this program. I hated those years… why would I want to relive them through my TV?!
I will NEVER forget missing a Dokken concert when I was in high school, because of a friend who was upset because she didn’t buy a ticket to join us, so she faked a suicide and basically caused us to miss the show, to prove we cared enough about her.
I think we all grew up with a “friend” who was always clamoring to be in the spotlight, creating drama where there was none, and not happy, unless you were unhappy. Sheesh! Again, I ask you—WHY would anyone want to watch a TV show that harkens back to THAT crap?!
I took our dog outside to give my mind a break… and to make sure the dog wouldn’t have explosive diarrhea again on our carpeting.
When I came back in, a new show was on the boob tube. One starring that manly man—Bear Grylis, who is my number one draft pick for my team during a Zombie Apocalypse.
At any rate, Bear had Michelle Rodriguez, (from the “Fast & Furious” movies) on the program with him. They were scaling rocks, and roughing it in the desolate desert somewhere. It was interesting enough, so I didn’t change the channel.
I did however, have to stifle my dinner from being urped back up, when they were preparing their “dinner” that first night on the show.
Good ol’ Bear had managed to capture a mouse. He and Michelle proceeded to disembowel the rodent, and skin it to prepare it for eating. But apparently, that wasn’t vulgar enough for this reality show. No, they needed to crank the vomit-factor up a notch or eight, by having Bear explain that he was going to make a “stew” out of the mouse meat, using… wait for it… urine.
He recommended that Michelle provide the urine, as he didn’t think she would want to imbibe in his.
I have no idea how the show, or the stew turned out—as I shut the TV off, and promptly went to the bathroom, where I dry heaved before heading to bed.
Nightmares of urine and rodents plagued my sleep. I’m not watching any more reality TV like that ever again.