I have an embarrassing secret vice. No, not midnight trips to the casino, or a crack habit, and I have never made a porn video. It is The Bachelor. I watch that cheesy, pathetic, utterly mesmerizing show. I saw the final episode of The Bachelor Rome Monday night. It made me gag, but I could not turn it off. Prince Lorenzo chose Jen and sent the virgin Sadie packing. After he shed feeble, very fake tears of anguish.
A work colleague of mine shares this furtive habit. Tuesday mornings, there we are, two middle age civil servants whispering over the water cooler.
He: “Hey, pssst, did you see who got a rose last night?”
Me: “Yeah, but what about that cat fight at the pool!”
He: “I know, Karen damn near fell out of her bikini. I could hardly breathe.”
And then this morning, in whispers:
Me: “So Jen won, what a shock”.
He: “I know, it was unbelievable! He gave up the chance to pop a cherry!”
O.K., so my male colleague’s interest in watching this crap may be somewhat understandable. Mine is inexplicable. Maybe I can find a Beat the Bachelor Habit support group somewhere. Monday nights we would gather and chant: “We are powerless over this despicable T.V. program.” Which we would then all rush home to covertly watch on tape. Because the next ONE, well he is a naval officer and a doctor. Gotta go. I feel a swoon coming on.
Today's dream travel destination: Rome
No comments:
Post a Comment