Monday, April 16, 2007

Pussycat Dolls, Pussycat Dolls, where have you been all my life?

After only one week living in coupled-up semi-bliss I have uncovered the major flaw in the whole living-with-the-boyfriend plan. The major reason why living with a girl or girls is awesome.

It came to me at 9.30pm last night as I watched Channel 10's the Pussy Cat Dolls Present: Search for the New Doll (or whatever).

This show personifies everything I love about reality TV. It's incredibly trashy, everyone bitches about everyone else, it's graced by/hosted by/judged by C-grade celebrities and it features girls trying to out-skank each other. Obviously it's completely awesome. And yet...

When I watch this kind of thing with girls it's a top-shelf bitch fest. I get to make fun of the boring girl who looks like a pre-nose job Ashley Simpson or the girl who cried because (apparently) she's blown away at how good her voice sounds. I can talk about how much I hate that little growling noise singers make and snigger at the classic reality TV show 'reaction shots' and the dodgy cuts where some production editor has clearly mish-mashed some random shots together to get the storyline or conflict that he or she wants.

But watching trashorific TV with Andy... well, for a start, Andy can't stand it and disappears into the other room. So I'm watching it by myself and... who am I supposed to make sarcastic remarks to?

I have to get right up against the wall and shout if I expect my neighbours to hear my one liners and re-hashing the show the next day tends to take the spontaneity out of comparing some poor unfortuante soul's weave to roadkill. Instead I end up sitting on the couch and worrying that if someone walked into the room they'd think I was enjoying it in a, you know, non ironic way.

They might even think I coveted the hideous panty-baring minidresses sported by four girls last night instead of day-dreaming about how many sequins it takes to look that tacky and how the girls were probably all furiously sewing by torchlight to take the hems up half a freaking foot. Okay those dresses were sort of fantastic in a crotch-displaying tranny way but still...

New policy? I'm keeping Ali and Ruth on speed dial so I can call them up and bellow "Is she supposed to be fellating that pole?" down the phone at them at only a seconds notice. Actually I could probably have a text message ready to go with "Is she supposed to be fellating that..." and fill in the blanks as I go. Yes, folks: it's that awesome - why aren't you watching it?

3 comments:

Bolton Gray said...

You can come round and watch it with T-Dog and I if you like.

Last night, afterwards, we turned over and watched "Cheaters". Thom felt dirty even watching it, but some how I managed to justify it.

observer said...

I'm not even brave enough to suggest wallowing in sin by watching it. I'm not sure I could cope with the violent (and mocking) laughter.....

my name is kate said...

I doubt Thom felt as dirty watching Cheaters as those guys who went through the car wash and chucked that dirty tissue out of the window did when they saw themselves on TV. Why do these guys even sign release forms?