Rooted in Reality

What is up with all of these damn reality TV shows? It all started with "The Real World" on MTV about 10 years ago, and really took off when Survivor came out a couple of years later. Now we've got some really crap-ass reality shows like Fear Factor. You couldn't pay me 50 grand to eat day-old Chinese food, so the concept of eating bull testicles is out of the question. That show went from gross to criminally disgusting. The worst one yet was when Joe Rogan made the contestants drink a blended amalgamation of everything that prior contestants have eaten in past episodes (ie. horse's rectum, bull's balls, madagascar hissing cockroaches, giant earthworms, etc.). There is absolutely no component of that challenge where someone conquers any type of fear. When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark and of heights, but I don't remember being afraid of having to eat an equine's bowels! Although, there was this one episode where the contestants were "chellenged" to eat the egg of a fertilized (and partially-developed) chicken. In the Philippines, this is called "Balut" and it is a delicacy. In fact, on Sunday mornings, I remember hearing the Balut man pushing his cart of eggs and yelling "Balut!" as I struggled to wake up in my bed. Sure beats the Good Humor man. Back to Fear Factor - the contestants were completely grossed out by the prospect of eating the egg, and they all ate their egg hesitantly. In fact, they were letting all of the juices run out of the egg, which is my favorite part. It tastes delicious, and I found myself yelling at the TV, "Don't waste the juice, motherfucker!" Granted, there is something macabre about chomping through the bones of a dead chick, but godammit, it's yummy!

Now cable channels like Animal Planet, Spike TV, and USA (and even crap channels like UPN and WB) are coming out with their own slant on reality TV: Ultimate Fighter, America's next top model, Joe Schmoe, etc. But the premise is always the same....10 contestants battle for one prize, there's always a couple of assholes in the group, you make all of them live in a house, and then one contestant is eliminated every week. Hollywood producers will take a concept and beat it into the ground before they can think up of anything original and creative.

Take that show, the Apprentice. It's just Survivor, but with a group of twenty to thirty-something assholes who think they're God's gift to this planet. Then you have God himself (well at least he thinks he is), Donald Trump, firing people left and right when he can't even comb his own hair straight. If I wanted to watch people go to work, I'd go work in an office myself. Everything about this show evokes negativity. People getting fired, reprimanded, criticized, and lambasted. Sure, there are some semblances of positivity, like teamwork, cooperation, and creativity, but those moments are far and few between, and they certainly don't keep the Nielsen ratings up.

Even though I am one to criticize the deluge of these reality TV shows, I am also an avid fan. I love watching the challenges, dealmaking and breaking, and relationships on Big Brother. Who would have thought watching a bunch of out-of-work actors live in a house, eat PB&J sandwiches, and play footsies in bed could be so entertaining? I am also enthralled with ABC's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and Super Nanny. Now those are a couple of shows with some redeeming value. The families' stories on the former show always make my wife and I cry, while the parenting techniques we learn about on the latter really give us some tangible tools to become better parents.

I find it ironic that America is now addicted to these reality TV shows, when most of America is sitting on their fat asses, eating take-out fast food, and yelling at their kids to stop hitting each other. No wonder we are addicted. Our fantasy has become our reality. And our reality continues to be a picture of gluttony, addiction, and inactivity. Welcome to America's new drug: Reality TV.

Your hand at the level of your eye

I'm homo-riffic. I like interior design, cooking, buying clothes, and musicals. I just don't like cock. I'm one step, albeit a BIG one (pun intended), from hanging out in the Castro. So it's no surprise that I have an infatuation for the Phantom of the Opera. Everytime I hear "masquerade" or "think of me", I cry like a little be-atch. I watched Phantom for the first time in 1995 at the behest of the wifey (then girlfriend). All throughout college, I would listen to the Phantom soundtrack on my walkman (yes, there were these archaic little machines called Sony walkmans before the iPod), and study my little brains out. I think it allowed me to form an emotional investment with whatever crap I was studying. So it's not a stretch to say that the Phantom got me through college. Actually, my parents got me through college, but don't tell them that. It worked because I didn't get anything lower than a B+ in my last two years of college.

I'm not too much of a romantic, but I can identify with Raoul's love for Christine. I mostly identify with the Phantom, though. He's a horrid, disfigured person who loves someone so deeply, that he finally gives up his love for her for her own happiness. He discovers that it's not his disfigured face that turns Christine away, it's his dark soul. But somewhere within that traumatized soul, is a compassionate being, and it took a kind act of passion to release it.

I've always felt insecure about my relationship skills. I'm either fucking things up or not doing enough to sustain the relationship. In this way, I can identify with the phantom. Despite it all, Joanne has always stuck by me or taken me back.

So this past Valentine's Day, I took Joanne and Mya to the movie theater to watch the movie version. It's been out for two months now and it was in the middle of a work day, so we thought it would be ok to bring Mya. She did fine. Me, not so much. I was crying like a little baby. The music was exquisite, and seemed to tug on my heart strings. I'm glad no one else was in the theater. I was disappointed with the cinematography and the overall feel of the movie, though. It was just too busy, and the camera placements and editing seemed odd. I later found out that Joel Schumacher, the acclaimed producer, directed the film. It was his directorial debut. Stick to producing, homeboy.

Super Nanny

Just watched an episode of Super Nanny, and it's funny how similar good parenting skills are to the rules and tactics we employ at the group home. Granted, it's taken to an extreme level with level 14 SED kids, but the techniques are similar. Structure, love, discipline, consequences, following through, consistency, and strategically-placed emotional stoicism are the key. Don't have too much time to write about it now, but watch Super Nanny; it's pretty damn good!

All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

I remember when I got my first job at Baskin-Robbins in high school. I thought I wouldn't be able to handle maintaining my 4.0 gpa with a job and a girlfriend, and all of my other extra-curricular activities. Lo and behold, the job actually forced me to manage my time better and study harder. All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

When I started to slack off in college, and had to drop out for a semester, I re-evaluated my priorities and didn't get anything lower than a B+ in my last two years of college. All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

When I quit my job at Foster City, and relied on refinancing money to pay the mortgage, I had a good time just relaxing. But when we started running out of money and our medical bills started piling up, I sacked up and quickly got two jobs. All I needed was a good kick in the ass

Now that we've got a baby, all of the things I've been putting off, like organizing the garage, cleaning the bathrooms, cleaning the carpets, organizing the pantry, cleaning the interior of the cars, and continually changing the furnace filter have been getting done. Guess what? All I needed was a good kick in the ass.