Cement shoes for the Sony
Last week all our favorite shows ended for the season. I was kind of relieved because I know we spend way to much time watching television. Jack Bauer was kidnapped by the Chinese, sure to be tortured every day until we meet him again in January. Sydney and Vaughn happily settled in a beachfront paradise with baby Jack and future super spy Isabelle. All was good in the world and I was sure I’d be able to carve out some kind of life for myself and my family, at least until the fall season starts in September.
Last night, however, was a low point in my TV addiction. I was settling in to nurse Autumn for the last time before putting her to bed and was surfing through the channels for something to watch. For some reason there was a shocking lack of “Law and Order” so I was reduced to watching E! and their stunning creation, a reality show called “The Girls Next Door.”
We’re not particularly fond of reality TV. Nathan hates it with a passion unless the show involves fixing up a house or other people’s children behaving like sugared-up hell spawn. He scoffed when I started watching “The Girls Next Door” but became intrigued when he saw it was all about Hugh Hefner’s “girlfriends” living at the Playboy mansion.
That’s right. Hef’s girls have their own reality show.
Apparently Hef has downsized from seven girlfriends to three, so you know it’s not just corporate America suffering from a depressed economy. The Playboy mogul has had to make some concessions as well, poor guy.
So this show is all about Hef’s three girls; Holly, Bridget and Kendra. Holly is the alpha and the one who seems to be the most attached to Hef. Bridget, the oldest at 31, is the sweet and brainy one. She’s working on her second master’s degree. Kendra’s the wild one and the youngest of the three. She enjoys showing off the goods to just about everyone.
After a half hour of watching these three in various stages of dress and undress, I asked Nathan if he wanted to find something else to watch.
No, there’s really nothing else on.
So we watched another half hour.
“This doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked. “You have a daughter. How would you like it if, twenty years from now, she shacked up with some 100-year old geezer in a red silk bathrobe?”
Apparently it was the wrong time to pose this question to him because the girls were taking a shower together.
Along with the group shower, some of the highlights of last night’s episodes were:
Holly trying not to get ruffled as she sat next to Hef’s ex Barbi Benton as Barbi reminisced about bygone days of sex on the pool table with Hef.
Bridget trying to decide which was more important; making it to school in time to take her final exam or participating in one more photo shoot for the magazine.
Barbi Benton asking Bridget if “those are real or fake” and realizing she was referring to the plastic plants and not Bridget’s boobs.
Holly freaking out about missing Hef’s 9:00 pm curfew.
Barbi asking if Hef has met the girls’ mothers yet.
Bridget standing stark naked next to her sister as she examined Polaroids of her photo shoot.
We lost three whole hours of our lives to that show last night. Three hours we will never get back. Lord, help us.
So why is it that bad TV seems so good? Surely I don’t want Autumn growing up thinking shows like “The Girls Next Door” are quality programming. Ideally I’d like her to have a take it or leave it attitude where TV is concerned. Unfortunately we have a 160 pound behemoth sitting in our living room that’s bound to serve as her baby sitter from time to time. It’s just so easy to plop her down in front of “The Wiggles” while I get ready in the morning.
Maybe the TV could have an accident or something. If you can hire a hit man to whack a human being surely you can hire someone to take out major appliances.
I just couldn’t do it myself. It really is a love/hate relationship.
Last night, however, was a low point in my TV addiction. I was settling in to nurse Autumn for the last time before putting her to bed and was surfing through the channels for something to watch. For some reason there was a shocking lack of “Law and Order” so I was reduced to watching E! and their stunning creation, a reality show called “The Girls Next Door.”
We’re not particularly fond of reality TV. Nathan hates it with a passion unless the show involves fixing up a house or other people’s children behaving like sugared-up hell spawn. He scoffed when I started watching “The Girls Next Door” but became intrigued when he saw it was all about Hugh Hefner’s “girlfriends” living at the Playboy mansion.
That’s right. Hef’s girls have their own reality show.
Apparently Hef has downsized from seven girlfriends to three, so you know it’s not just corporate America suffering from a depressed economy. The Playboy mogul has had to make some concessions as well, poor guy.
So this show is all about Hef’s three girls; Holly, Bridget and Kendra. Holly is the alpha and the one who seems to be the most attached to Hef. Bridget, the oldest at 31, is the sweet and brainy one. She’s working on her second master’s degree. Kendra’s the wild one and the youngest of the three. She enjoys showing off the goods to just about everyone.
After a half hour of watching these three in various stages of dress and undress, I asked Nathan if he wanted to find something else to watch.
No, there’s really nothing else on.
So we watched another half hour.
“This doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked. “You have a daughter. How would you like it if, twenty years from now, she shacked up with some 100-year old geezer in a red silk bathrobe?”
Apparently it was the wrong time to pose this question to him because the girls were taking a shower together.
Along with the group shower, some of the highlights of last night’s episodes were:
Holly trying not to get ruffled as she sat next to Hef’s ex Barbi Benton as Barbi reminisced about bygone days of sex on the pool table with Hef.
Bridget trying to decide which was more important; making it to school in time to take her final exam or participating in one more photo shoot for the magazine.
Barbi Benton asking Bridget if “those are real or fake” and realizing she was referring to the plastic plants and not Bridget’s boobs.
Holly freaking out about missing Hef’s 9:00 pm curfew.
Barbi asking if Hef has met the girls’ mothers yet.
Bridget standing stark naked next to her sister as she examined Polaroids of her photo shoot.
We lost three whole hours of our lives to that show last night. Three hours we will never get back. Lord, help us.
So why is it that bad TV seems so good? Surely I don’t want Autumn growing up thinking shows like “The Girls Next Door” are quality programming. Ideally I’d like her to have a take it or leave it attitude where TV is concerned. Unfortunately we have a 160 pound behemoth sitting in our living room that’s bound to serve as her baby sitter from time to time. It’s just so easy to plop her down in front of “The Wiggles” while I get ready in the morning.
Maybe the TV could have an accident or something. If you can hire a hit man to whack a human being surely you can hire someone to take out major appliances.
I just couldn’t do it myself. It really is a love/hate relationship.
