A Sad Cry for Help

My new Kindle will no longer charge. So I am out of books. This leaves music and TV as my only option. I listen to music as much as possible. In the evening though, when I am just trying to transport myself away from here, I do TV. Always shown one-day late, my schedule includes:

• 7:00—Letterman
  
• 8:00—Craig Ferguson--though I am not a great fan—so I often times piddle around.
  
• 9:00—The Office (reruns)
  
• 9:30—Jon Stewart
  
• 10:00—Colbert Report
  
• 10:30-- Ok, 10:30 is a problem. And a dirty little secret that I feel compelled to divulge, as I feel so dirty and I am hoping for forgiveness.
  

At 10:30, the choices are minimal. I actually started watching Hell's Kitchen. The last episode was Wednesday. I agreed with the Chef's choice for the winner—she was young and motivated and seemed nice, especially compared to the middle-aged smoking fat boy that was the other finalist. The fact that I even watch the crap is, admittedly, very sad.

Sadly, the big secret that I have to reveal is that I am watching the Bachelor. I know. Holy Shit. How awful. Can you say 'intervention?' But the guy is such a wuss. He struggles so much it is ridiculous. The show should be called 'The Navel' because that is what he is staring at all of the time. Mr. Sensitive found out that one of the contestants was a virgin, and would not consider moving in with him. He 'really admired' her integrity and really 'respected and shared' her values. Of course, he then really eliminated her ass at the first chance, keeping that awful Vienna woman who clearly does it with whatever moves. Nice call, and all guys respect him for it—but do you have to pretend that it was such a hard decision? Really?

My god, what is happening to me? I may have to be treated for PTTV syndrome when I get out of here.

Really, can you be a bigger wuss?