|This is for the children with hemorrhoids. Do yourself a favor and watch this.|
The thing is I love bad tv and junk food, celebrity gossip, the spectacle of strangers living larger, stupider, drunker and sluttier than I ever would. If I were to meet any one of them I would punch them in the tits, yet most nights I turn on my tv to watch, and it's a super fantastic happy Susannah night when one of them graces the cover of Us Weekly. Add to that a steady stream of People magazine and Perez Hilton, and my brain is borderline obese.
What's a girl to do? I shut down at the ick of politics, economics, and historical entertainment, and everyone knows that crash diets never work anyway. So I'm taking baby steps. I opted not to renew my magazine subscriptions, and a season's worth of Honey Boo Boo Child sits unwatched on my Tivo along with The Real Housewives of Miami, Keeping Up With the Kardashians and The Real World (apparently I was the only one still watching that in the name of cultural respect anyway). Instead I finally tried Downton Abbey which--honestly--is the same level of oh no she di'int as any reality show out there, but the English accents and Masterpiece Theater emblem somehow elevate it to the equivalent of peanut butter: a fat, but the good kind of fat. In the past month I have also read some excellent books: Wild, Half Broke Horses, The Age of Miracles, and tonight I am trying to decide if I should start Tiny Beautiful Things or The Yellow Birds. Both are supposed to be amazing.
Which is not to say I won't still watch The Real Housewives of New York and New Jersey, the O.C. and ohmygodIcannotwait! for the new season of Beverly Hills, but when I do I plan on watching while eating a spinach salad sprinkled with ground Doritos. You know, because spinach is good for you.
|My kind of cuisine.|
p.s. Seriously though...one leg or crazy eyes? Why is the choice so hard?