I had the house to myself. I had made sure all the doors were locked even the one out to the garage, which I almost never dead bolt. I then dug deep into the freezer to unearth my emergency sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies that I keep hidden beneath an industrial size Costco bag of peas. Clutching the cookies I grab my favorite electronic device and settled in on the couch for some secret shame.
Right when things were getting good, like really good, my husband makes a surprise appearance via the front door, which, as a general rule, no family member ever enters or exits from. He’s caught me red handed doing the deed. I was so busted!
Disgust was dripping off of him in gooey rivulets, like if you had taken a partially melted Dairy Queen ice cream cone and dumped it on his head. My husband looks at what I’m doing and sneers, “What is that?”
I had no choice but to confess my transgression. I had to tell him the embarrassing truth I was watching True Tori on Lifetime.
For those of who with much loftier TV viewing standards True Tori is the latest reality TV installment of the life and times of poor, little, used to be rich girl Tori Spelling. Daughter of TV guru Aaron Spelling (Love Boat, Charlie’s Angels, Beverly Hills 90210) and a sort of TV star who has deplorable taste in men and has something that could best be termed as a fetish for sharing every uncomfortable emotional moment of her life with an audience.
After I professed my sin my husband rolled his eyes, dropped his brief case, sighed and said, “I hope that junk isn’t on our DVR.”
Now, it was my turn for the eye roll. This is what happens when you are married to someone who was worked in public broadcasting for twenty years they become DVR purists. God forbid our DVR be marred with any reality television. I’ve asked my husband many times if he’s planning on a run for public office and is afraid his opponent might get a hold of his DVR history. Nothing else will explain his ongoing quest for cultivating only the most highbrow of shows to record (and of course sports).
I assured my husband I wasn’t contaminating his precious DVR and reminded him that, “Hey, it can’t all be Downton Abbey.”
Wrong thing to say to the man who has the PBS program guide memorized and goes into a five-minute lecture about how right now I could be watching a Frontline about the NSA. Hmm, the NSA or Tori in therapy session with her cheating husband who wears Man Spanx and has very questionable grooming habits? Yeah, that’s right Tori – every time. Besides that Frontline program will be on our DVR.
Now before some of you start sending me emails that I’m what’s wrong with America based on my TV taste let me assure I did not mean for this happen. I always imagined myself a little too good for the likes of True Tori. I don’t even watch those Real Housewives shows. Okay, I will admit if I happen to be sitting down and channel changing I might pause at one of those shows for a little bit but I don’t consider them destination viewing. And I take great pride in the fact that I can’t name any of the Beverly Hills housewives. Well, that’s not really true as I was typing that previous sentence I realized I could name three; Lisa, Brandy and Kyle, oh make that four, I just remembered Carleton the high priestess of some sort of upper income witches coven.
I know I should be ashamed of watching True Tori or at least mildly chagrined but I’m not. Yes, I was hiding it from my family but now I’m going loud and proud about my less than erudite viewing habits. In fact, I think having a varied TV appetite makes you a more fascinating person. Case in point, have you ever encountered a smug unplugged? You know those goobers you meet at parties, who usually need to police their ear hair, that love to tell anyone within a five-foot radius that they don’t e-v-e-r watch television or even own a TV. Are they the most boring people ever? Yes.
Now imagine that person if they had experienced just a smidge of True Tori. Sure, their soul and brain cortex would be soiled from the experience but I bet they would be, if not more interesting, a little more fun to be around. Because let me tell you something, if I was talking to someone about True Tori I would be so engrossed in the conversation there is no way I would even notice if they had a crop of ear hair so lush that it resembled a wheat farm in Western Kansas.
I think that’s bad TV’s way of giving back.
**For more Snarky check out my book Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School.
Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good. Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival. If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you.
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