Fuck you, Us Weekly.

(Source: mamapop.com)

Shut up, I love that shirt on you.

But seriously, don't you think it's time to lay off Ben the Bachelor? I don't think he's quite the pimp you've made him out to be. He may have frizzy hair and a hell of a hat collection, but don't we all?

It takes a nerd to spot one, and I see right through that cashmere sweater. He's no player, just a lifelong nerd with a little case of Trapper Keeper Syndrome. The popular cheerleader asked him out after science class, got naked and made him do her homework, and he carried his lazer-covered Trapper Keeper in front of him to hide his boner through the entire rest of the show.

Can you blame him?

Sure, he was thinking with his No. 2 pencil instead of his brain. But who wouldn't be smitten by a hot model prancing in the ocean sans skivvies?

Ben, hang in there brother. Not all of us think you're an asshole. Any guy with mad rap skillz and an alter ego named Storm Horse is okay in my book. And whomever you choose to spend your time with after chess club is your own business. Nerds unite.

Samuel

Last Sunday, one of our cars broke down. On Wednesday, the heat went out in the house. And on Friday, the TV exploded.

I have been carless for a week and a half, working at the kitchen table wearing two sweaters, a flannel, and a scarf, and unable to watch Dawson's Creek.

Which is why at 2pm yesterday, in the middle of Sears, I uttered the following words that most boyfriends only dream about:

"Pick out a new TV. Whichever one you want."

I didn't give a fuck. I just wanted to watch Pacey and Joey make out.

Baby Samuel's first car ride home.
And yes, K buckled him in.

2 hours later (I kid you not) we were driving home with Baby Samuel in the backseat. K said we could call him Sammy, but I told him he was a fancy TV and deserved to have a proper name.

We had checked 4 different stores, made our assessments and agreed on a reasonably priced TV that is really quite nice.

And so, though I am still carless, K fixed the heat, and I can watch Real Housewives of BH in HD and see who really has had the most work done.

Fucking SCORE.

It's not you, it's me.

Dear Maury,

I love you, I truly do. You've provided me with an unending supply of laughter and tears, shock and dismay at who was born a man or woman, and whether or not that dude sitting on the stage really IS the father.

I've enjoyed your smug smiles as you declare paternity results, and the various styles of glasses you've adorned through the years. You're respectful, gentle, but you know how to lay down the law when ladies start throwing chairs up in that mother. You keep it classy, Maury, and I respect you for it.

But with my New Year's resolution of trying to slow my life down and de-stress, I think we should start seeing other shows.

I'm sorry to have to let you down, Maury, but the yelling and screaming has instilled a dangerous level of anxiety in me that only a fellow named Dawson can cure.

It's not because he's younger than you, I swear, because age is just a number. But I just couldn't resist his overscholarly dialogue, witty snapbacks and his love triangle with Jen and Joey Potter. His calming demeanor and bromance with one Pacey Witter hooked me, and the feeling is so strong I cannot resist.

Maybe we'll meet again, Maury, once my life slows down and I build back up a tolerance for yelling, but until that day, here's a peck on the cheek and a hearty handshake. I will always love you. Good luck finding out who the father is.

XOXO,
PGG

Bachelor Pad 2: Slutty Girl Scout Camp

Jake and Vienna's epic public breakup.

Bachelor Pad 2 is chock full of crazy skanks with a few hotties thrown in. Jake and Vienna are douchebags, Kasey is whipped, and I've been praying for poor Ames to finally lose his v-card.

If you've never seen the show, think Paradise Hotel with discarded contestants of the Bachelor/Bachelorette and a touch of girl scout camp. Really slutty girl scout camp.

On last night's episode, the most romantic intimation rose out of the backstabbing, conniving ashes of the show. In a touching show of affection (and blatant disregard for the cash prize that he obviously didn't need) once his lady friend was voted off, Ames galloped toward the departing limo in slow motion and waved goodbye, too. I admit it--I teared up a bit.

See ladies? Chivalry isn't dead. If you're a reality TV star with plenty of money and a knack for grand gestures.

But now that my favorite couple is gone, I am hanging my hat on the drama queens that remain. Dance, puppets, dance.

Don't mess with my DVR

I've been watching the Bachelor all season like it was my job. Every Monday night, I'd curl up on the couch in front of the TV, eyes glued to the classy ladies dolled up to be included in Brad's second batch of potential wives. This week was no exception.

So you can imagine how absolutely furious I was when I turned on my DVR to watch the season finale... and TOP GEAR HAD RECORDED OVER IT.

Top Gear. A car show. It wasn't even a new episode.

You... have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

I must have panned through the list of recorded shows five times in denial before I accepted that it was true. I carefully googled to find out whether the finale had actually aired that night instead of some other magical night that I hadn't heard about. I knew I was running the risk of finding out who won the final rose, but I hoped I'd make it through the search unscathed. I've even managed to stay off of facebook to avoid seeing who had won.

Fail. Right on the ABC page that came up in my google search was a giant banner with a picture of them, saying "Congratulations to the happy couple!" Fuck you, ABC. No seriously. At least you redeemed yourself by having the episodes available online. Tiny high five.

Poor K called me on his lunch break and cheerfully asked how my day was. Big mistake. He must really love me (and/or could tell how genuinely upset I was about missing this pop culture classic) because he said I could delete the entire season of Top Gear. And to be honest, it felt pretty good to do it. Like punching the bully who beat up your kid. I really love that guy.

So... the moral of the story is that you don't mess with a lady's DVRed shows when she's holed up on the couch with a heating pad. Because it's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.

Anger Hangover

I had a hot date with Lisa Vanderpump and the gang again tonight. This time, it was the reunion show. (I'm behind on the DVR, okay? Birthday weeks are very busy!) What really struck me though was Kyle's reaction to everything. She's a spitfire, that's for sure. She says things right off the top of her head, and she doesn't give a shit who knows it. In some ways, I envy that about her. I'm passive-aggressive by nature, and I hate conflict more than cat poop on my carpet. I'm also a people pleaser, to boot. Maybe that's why I take out all of my sarcastic aggression on my blog, where nobody can chase after me with a baseball bat.

It must feel good, to just blurt out what you're thinking. Just spit it out, no filter. To say whatever comes to mind, not care who it hurts or what kind of consequences you'll face. And while I think there are some very theraputic advantages to spouting off at the proverbial mouth, I see the remorse in Kyle's eyes for some of the things she's said. And I'm reminded once again why I am better off finding a happy medium between being a complete bitch and the rug under people's feet.

Over the years, I've had to learn to stand up for myself in more ways than one. I've been put to the test in friendships and in relationships. And while I'm not afraid to look someone in the eye and tell them what I'm really feeling, I think there is a difference between heated confrontation and tactful conversation. And for the last 26 years I've been struggling to find a balance there. What I think I need to work on is telling people how I actually feel, but in a way that doesn't give me an anger hangover the next morning, regretting things I've said (or thrown.)

But I have to say that sometimes all I really want to do is cave into my childish and self-indulgent desires and make a list of all the people and things that piss me off, write it on my facebook status in all caps with seven exclamation points and a big sad face at the end, and wait for the sympathetic comments to follow. Everyone else does it, right? Maybe there's something to it!

5 People I'd Vote Off the Island

There are a handful of people that make me want to flip my coffee table over and bull-charge my TV. I'm sure there are more to add to this list, but for now... here are my top 5.

#1.) Jesse James

K has recorded one thousand episodes of Monster Garage on the DVR, and every time I see his beady little face and tatto-y arms, I want to rip the muffler off of one of his prized mobiles and bean him over the head with it. That man has made a sport out of cheating on America's sweetheart, and because of his naughtiness, I can't stop having dreams about Kat Von D. And also Ryan Renolds. I really hope he and Sandy B get married and make lots of babies soon. But I digress.

#2.) Camille Grammer

Camille's husband cheated on her with a woman half her age, got her pregnant, and shamelessly humiliated her on national television, and somehow I still despise her. Maybe it's because she has had so much botox that I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or just plain bitchy, but I really would love to pimp slap her expressionless face.

#3.) Teen Mom's Amber Portwood

Amber Portwood beat her ginormous boyfriend to a pulp in front of their daughter on the show, and I swear I sat with my jaw in my lap while I watched. She's abusive, remorseless, and sets a bad example for girls everywhere. I would like to get in a giant sumo suit, wrestle her to the ground, and then gently push her out into a lake so she could float away, like Andy Bernard at the Dunder Mifflin company picnic.

#4.) Paula Deen

Nothing made me pee myself more than when she got hit with that ham last year. I'm sorry, Paula, but the way your tinsel-colored hair glistened as I watched that ham clock you in slow motion on YouTube was just beautiful. Your southern accent is just too perfect, and those teeth MUST glow in the dark. Let's cook some ham, y'all.

#5.) Ben Roethlisberger

I think all rapists should be painted in honey and locked in a room with thousands of bees. I used to think you were cute, Ben, but now when I look at your face, all I see is lots of ugly beard hair. About that time you lost the Superbowl... hey, karma's a bitch.

An Open Letter to American Idol

Dear American Idol,

I'll admit, you've lost me in the past several years. The mean comments, though hilarious (and truthful in their own right) were hard to watch. I'd cringe every time Simon crushed the dreams of the child singing before him like the Grinch putting Cindy Lou Who in a headlock. The contestants weren't memorable--I couldn't even tell you who won last year, or the past 5 for that matter. I wasn't sure what would happen when you introduced new judges into the mix. I was skeptical, at best. And dammit, I really miss William Hung.

But you did it. You wooed me back with your quippy on-camera interviews, new judge lineup, and plethora of golden ticket winners picking up Ryan Seacrest and spinning him around like a ragdoll. I even decided to DVR you this year. And last night's episode was no disappointment, though I DO wish we got to see more BAD contestants make fools of themselves in front of their grandmothers. That makes me spit out my milk.

And somehow, with the surprisingly sweet demeanor of Steven Tyler (did anyone else think he was going to take on the role of the asshole?) and the reluctance of J-Lo to say "no", you managed to create a combination of hilariousness and heartwarming with the stories of a few contestants. And this is where I get sappy for a moment.

I fastforwarded that DVR all the way to the end, and got the kleenex out so I could see to what degree Chris Medina would make me cry. His cute pictures with his beautiful girlfriend had to lead to SOME terrible story, I was sure. And I was right. Turns out, Chris was two months away from being wed to his gorgeous fiancee when she got into an accident. She is now wheelchair bound and severely brain damaged. And do you know it--though he could have walked away from that girl, (they were two months shy of marrying) instead, he stood right by her. He's 26, and now for the rest of his life he will be taking care of her along with her mother. He sacrificed so much, and I can't help but think-- what an amazing human being he is. In this day and age of people hopping from marriage to marriage, loyalty far from the center of most people's hearts; instant gratification and superficial demeanors, this man stood by the woman he loves, and I am truly inspired by him. Not that I think that people should get a free golden ticket to the Willy Wonka factory just because of their heartbreaking stories, but it sure does give you hope for the future of mankind.

And so, American Idol--with this, you have won me back. I have even gone so far to record the series on my DVR (K will be THRILLED, I'm sure), and I have several more hot dates with Steven, J-Lo and Randy in the next several weeks. I've put the ring back on, and turned your pictures face-up again; I can't wait to see what you have in store for our future. Hopefully more people bringing giant toothbrushes onto the stage and smacking the camera as they storm off, sans golden ticket.

Put on your rhinestone seatbelts, kiddies

Nothing scares me more than stage moms. Their lipstick-smeared grins and mom jeans, ripping fistfuls of ribboned pigtail out of their 7-year-old's head while she bawls uncontrollably, Maybelline running down her face.

I caught a few episodes of Little Miss Perfect again today, and I'm sorry I did. You can just TELL by the way the it's filmed that whoever came up with the concept of the show did it to make fun of the idea. An econ professor, a former pageant queen, and a cashier from McDonalds perch in a menacing row, judging girls wearing a mountain of sequins and enough makeup to make RuPaul cringe. The girls come out, all Vaseline smiles and taffeta, and spin slowly on the stage while the judges criticize their costumes, talent, faces.

I love when they pan to the moms in the crowd, though. They sit in all their former glory, overweight and overbearing, coaching their princess from the metal folding chairs. Their smiles are too wide, their boobs saggy, their disapproval evident as they soak up the spotlight vicariously through their offspring.

They spend hours with the tools of their torture: curling irons, teeth whitening kits, faux tanning sprayers, complaining that the people they hired to take care of these things are incompetent and unworthy to live.

Then the end of the show comes; the girls are lined up on stage like tiny Skipper dolls, while the host of the show, the creepiest creepster who thinks he's a pageant queen himself, lives out his American Idol dreams and serenades the girls with a pedophilic melody. And I can't help but think to myself that an appropriate punishment for these buffoons would be to box the host and the moms up in plastic boxes and put them on the shelf in a toy store for the remainder of eternity, a-la the N'Sync video "Bye Bye Bye."

Top 5 Shows from the 90's - Oldies but Goodies

There is nothing that I love more than hearing that famous line from the man who never seems to age... "You are NOT the father." Chairs are scooted across the stage from each other, shoes are sometimes thrown, but Maury stays the same. In a chaotic world of hundreds of channels, I find myself going back to the shows that bring me so much joy: shows from the 90's. Here are 5 of my favorites:

1.) Maury.
Maury never seems to age. He does the same shows over and over again (Jenny Jones, anyone??) but somehow survives the tsunami that has been reality TV. As the old saying goes: "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." And that seems to be the case with our wrinkled old friend, the bearer of paternity results worldwide. There is comfort in repetition, and I always get a warm fuzzy feeling when I see "Your Twin Brother is the Father of Our Baby" on the guide channel.

2.) America's Funniest Home Videos.
Sure, I miss Bob Saget. He was corny, he made me cringe with every poorly written line, but he was Danny Tanner, and he had charisma. Tom Bergeron is like a comforting father figure, though, and he introduces the clips with the vigor that Bob never had. There's just something about the video montages that makes me pee my pants like no other show has EVER been able to do. Yesterday, my sister and I watched fifteen people take face plants off of diving boards and test out dog shock collars on their own necks, and I laughed straight through the commercial break.

Joey Greco: bettering mankind, one cheater at a time.

3.) Cheaters.
Joey Greco never goes out of style. He is a man scorned, exploiting the pain of cheating victims everywhere to better mankind. There's something about being inside that van, on the way to the cheater's house, seeing their blurred out private parts through the window in nightvision that warms the soul. It's good to know there's justice out there for people whose husbands are sleeping with the babysitter.

4.) Roseanne.
Roseanne never fails to make me feel connected to the midwest working man. Her down-to-earth ways, family troubles, and groundbreaking lesbian kisses have been a friend to my television for many years. We followed her through the ups and downs of marriage, two Beckys, David and Darlene, Dan's infidelity, then the winning of the lottery (which turned out to be a dream anyways, way to dissapoint us, writers), and she will forever remain a solid late-night fallback show to lull me to sleep.

5.) COPS.
The first REAL reality TV, COPS really is the pioneer of the Jersey Shore movement. Capturing the incriminating actions of criminals across America, COPS introduced a new level of television yet unmatched by current shows. The Dash Cam gave us an inside look into the police world: hilarious field sobriety epic fails, high speed chases, and jaw-dropping white trash fashion shows.

These are the shows that I am not ashamed to admit I turn back to, day after day, to keep me company and remind me that some people just should not breed.

Cabs Are HERE!

My DVR is close to 90% full. MOSTLY by 93 episodes of Robot Chicken and Monster Garage, (and I'm not naming names), but I have about 15 different series of my own set to record. Tis the season to be premiering, and I'll tell you what--I don't know what it is about these ridiculous shows and their fist-pumping, teen-momming ways, but I. Am. In. LOVE.

Jersey Shore premiered last night, Teen Mom 2 starts soon, and winter Wipeout is on, which makes me pee my pants. All of my favorites, and I feel like a toddler on Christmas morning. The Reality TV Santa is here with a sack full of trashy presents.

I'm convinced that TV is the ultimate family unifier. My sister and her boyfriend are living with us right now, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that our favorite nights are the ones we have good TV on. We all gather on the couch with our pizza and beer and fist pump our faces off. Yesterday, my sister's boyfriend J and I ran around high-fiving each other, yelling: "CABS ARE HEEEEERE!" Best. Day. Ever.

There doesn't seem to be much going on socially during these winter months, (I like to call this "hibernation season," when people couple up and stay indoors for the first three months out of the year) so reality TV gives us something to look forward to and bond over. And I for one can't WAIT for the next round of pregnant teens to yell, scream and entertain me. Dance, puppets... dance.

My Reality TV Addiction

I am addicted to bad reality TV. Housewives, pregnant teens, fist pumping guidos... I love it all. I just watched the trailer for Teen Mom 2, and let me tell you... my excitement level rivals waking up on Christmas morning to presents under the tree.

I tried to hide it for awhile, my closeted affection for trash shielded from the outside world. I'd spend hours in front of the TV, engrossed in the drama of hair pulling and slapping. I know it's terrible, a negative influence on our society and promotes an unrealistic portrayal and glamorization of people's lives. But I just can't help myself.

My current favorites include the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Married to Rock, and 16 & Pregnant. Lisa is my second favorite reality star of all time, the housewife with the British accent who sasses strangers in the lobby of the DMV. She can say anything she wants and it comes out hilarious and classy. I'd love to sit down with her and just yell swear words back and forth so I can learn that accent. Maybe then when I'm standing in line at Walmart and I want to cuss someone out for cutting the line, I'll be able to avoid getting a fist to the face with my new fancy accent.

But my all time favorite reality star is a dad on the show 16 & Pregnant. His name is James, he was Markai's boyfriend. You may recall that James got a verbal beatdown from his friends for being the only white dude with dreads. They said he was like Billy Ray Cyrus with a mullet. James spoke English so poorly that they had to use subtitles at the bottom of the screen so the audience would be able to decipher the new language he created. My sister and I laughed so hard that we saved it on the DVR for weeks, and repeatedly fast forwarded to the parts where James had an extended monologue. At one point during the episode, we find out that James has cheated on the mother of his child with a past girlfriend. It came as a devastating shock to us viewers; James seemed like SUCH a standup guy. They couple stand outside the car screaming at each other, and James proceeds to defend himself against her accusations. He yells incoherent ramblings at her while his dreads bounce back and forth against his jacket.

This episode alone explains why reality TV feeds my soul, and if you haven't seen it, it's definitely worth checking out on Hulu. And as for the other reality TV, I hope you all don't judge me for my little self-indulgent vice. And if you do, you don't know what you're missing.