Bridgette come get that crazy foofie! (subtitle: why you shouldn't watch late night TV on Sundays)

This one is long but you won't be disappointed.
-truth
Friends, internetians, countrymen lend me your eyes. Okay so here I am two days in a row writing about things that bother me. In case you're wondering, I'm spinning Musiq's first record properly spelled "I just want to sing." I can't remember the actual spelling.

Here's the Deal:
I watched a lot of TV tonight. Billiards on ESPN 12 or 13. Awesome and inspiring. The Stevie special on BET. Not bad. Something on the Food Network. Yummy. A Jazz Special featuring the late, great Lou Rawls. "Yeah Buddy!" Then out of nowhere I died and went to Stupid, population, seemingly the whole dang country.

VH1. Most people think shows like "Storytellers," "Behind the Music," The "I Love the [Decade X]" series and my favorite, "The Fabulous Life of..." They used to be like a grown up MTV. I guess in reality this is still true as they've unveiled the latest edition to their "Celebreality" series of shows. This includes "The Surreal Life" (like MTV's Real world with celebrities), " Celebrity Fit Club," where overweight celebs try to get back to a former self and "The Flavor of Love." This last show is where I lost my mind and my lunch.

So anyone that knows about this series of shows knows that spin offs featuring Public Enemy Hypeman Flava Flav are prevalent every season. He was originally in the cast of the debut season of surreal life. Here he fell in love with Bridgette Nielsen a formidable middle aged, European blonde, about three times as tall as Flav. They got their own show appropriately entitled Strange Love and to see these to in action, the title made perfect sense. I don't what ended up happening at the end of that show's two season run but there was talk of marriage in the teasers. In this latest season, Flav is back and Bridgette who could handle Flav, has been replaced by 20 or so crazy young ladies (I use this term so loosely it's almost poetic license), all vying for Flav's affection and I'm sure some arbitrary sum of money.

WHY IS REALITY TV MORE FAKE THAN THE SCRIPTED STUFF?! Sorry I just had to get that out. Back to the story.

So I'm watching this thing right. It's a typical reality show. All of these ladies (they call each other b*tches), Flav and his butler/manager/bodyguard lookin' dude live in the same house, filled with cameras. Of course in the beginning there are like 5 girls occupying a room. Already drama. Then of course there's the one the producers pick because they know she's gonna make everyone else want to kill her (except Flav who of course will keep picking her crazy behind until the end). There's a "voting off" process in which a certain number of girls are given a clock and the catch phrase "you know what time it is." Everyone else gots to go. Peace, B*tches. (I don't take that word lightly but after seeing an episode of this show you'll want to call them that too.) Another funny thing to note about this show is that none of girls' real names are used. On the first episode, Flav meets each girl and, based on the interview, gives them a nick name. Hysterical. Some names include Red Oyster (the Asian chick), Pumkin (spelled as it is on the show, is the white chick) and there is a whole host of African American women with names like Peaches, New York, Georgia. Ms. Latin (guess what nationality she is) got the boot tonight. I believe the troublemaker is "Hottie." Personally I think everybody on the show should be name triflin'.

So the real drama comes at elimination time. The girls catty, backstabbing and conniving. The b word goes flying like spitballs in an uncontrolled classroom. The confessionals are hysterical. Here are all of these young and beautiful women, many of whom are young enough to have been fathered by the "object of their affection." They get in the little confessional booth and say things like "That B doesn't care about Flav. She's fake. She needs to leave the house." I looking at this thinking: "Do you really care about his licorice colored behind?" No offense Flav, I'm just looking out for you best interest. These chicas are just after your fame and fortune, homeboy.

VH1 Producers, here's my ending for the show. We bring back all of the girls, call Oprah and get her to get Donald to lend us his Helicopter. Fly them out to that Survivor Island. Then Bring the Fear Factor people out there, do some crazy stunts to prove their love for Flav. Then in the middle of the night while they're sleeping, the whole production crew leaves them there. That'd be the end of the season. Cue the sad, slow pop music.

Some of you may ask why I don't simply change the channel. First of all it's not that easy. These people do the market research to get you hooked. Besides, I tried once. It was BET and a white Televangelist was on there telling about the blessing I could receive by calling to get my green prosperity/prayer cloth. I can't make this stuff up. If I could, I'd be on the "The Fabulous life of." Seriously, this guy with a combover hair piece combination of nearly legendary proportions was interviewing people that called in to get their prayer hanky. I don't mean to down your vibe if you've got one and it cured your cancer like they said on TV, but come the freak on. They'd probably be able to sell more of them if they called it what it is, a piece of fabric from the Lucky Charms leprechaun's outfit. Shoot, I'll take two! And send some to those girls at Flav's house, they need prayer.

Thanks for reading.
-Truth, planning on visiting a bookstore more often.

P.S. I need a TIVO hook up. Who's got my back?