There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-08-10

I may be boring, but at least I'm not Dave Navarro.

I work with this really nice guy who always seems like a doofus and like he’s confused, but is usually on the ball. He went to Square State with us a month or so ago, and on one of the evenings that we went out for bad food, he stayed in to watch Rockstar: Supernova. He was very sheepish about this dirty little addiction, but he needed a fix. He explained the concept to me, and I giggled because it sounded so awful, but I knew exactly how he felt, being a reality tv whore myself.

So when I stumbled across an episode of Rockstar: Supernova myself on Tuesday night, I paused for a moment to wallow in the warm, gooey cheez of it, but then, Christ on a cracker, I got sucked in by the really horrendous ensemble which appeared to be constructed of gold spray paint and some KISS boots that the contestant who was just being introduced was wearing. While I was reeling in shock and lurid pleasure from the “clothing” this contestant was wearing, she began to “sing”! Fuuuuuck. I was a fucking trout, hooked. Hooked! I don’t think she hit a single true note through the whole thing! She sang like I do! Let me say that again, people: she sounded like I do when I sing when she was singing. My singing scares people. Albeit not as much as I’d scare them if I were dressed in a lycra spandex gold jumpsuit and KISS boots, but scary, nonetheless. Then she finished, and her performance was critiqued by Dave Navarro (Mr. Electra), who seemed to have been hypnotized into thinking that he is the reincarnation of Yul Brenner playing the young Moses or the King of Siam (by the way, why is the 60th anniversary of the king of Thailand being advertised constantly on CNN?) and sits around in a throne with his shirt open. The set looked like a Pier One had vomited all over a Cheesecake Factory – does this pass as goth these days?

Then the critique was passed to Tommy Lee, who, I am ashamed to say, I think is pretty cool. This opinion was formed by yet another reality tv experience: Tommy Lee Goes to College (and tries to bag his hot tutor). Next to Dave Navarro, he seems both humble and smart. And normal.

Well, I didn’t have a chance at that point. I was helpless in the grip of the mediocrity. Aaaaagggh. Why even struggle? Struggling just makes you sink faster. So I watched the rest of it, some of it with the sound on! And then last night, I HAD to watch the follow-up, wherein someone gets the hook. Sadly, jumpsuit girl did not get booted, but was left to audially torture the audience for another day. Two better singers were kicked off, instead, because we’re Americans! We vote on our cell phones for some tone deaf bimbo, but we can’t be bothered to vote for our own president! Yay!

In other perplexing tv reality news, how did Virginia make the finals on Hell’s Kitchen? I mean, K Grease wasn’t really appropriate (or, should I say, he didn’t rock it appropriately), either, but Virginia? Huh? Heather was an early favorite of mine, but then during the construction worker challenge, she made stupid food (chicken sammich and fries) and went on about how she put alcohol in the onions because “construction workers love alcohol.” That might be the dumbest thing I’ve heard in months. The workers were voting on whose food was the best, so wouldn’t you give them something a little different than what they can get from a fast food place? I need a life.

I think I am going to send a fecalgram to PT Loser Lady, which seems especially reasonable since fecalgrams are currently $10 cheaper than usual. I was hoping to get some pepper spray and wait for her to pull over to yell at me some more, but I don’t have that kind of patience. Maybe after I send the fecalgram, she’ll pull over to yell at me and THEN I can pepper spray her. I really need a life.

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