The NE region of the country has been swept up in one humdinger of a heat wave the past couple of days. Temps reached record-breaking status, opting to stubbornly hover in the mid-nineties way into the evening hours like an aging mistress that has long wore out her welcome. As front runner candidate for the Temps Are Too Damn High party, I have used every waking hour in my days to complain about the heat to anyone who will listen. As if my friends, neighbors and colleagues have been living in a plastic bubble this whole time, playing Scrabble with George Costanza (the correct answer is "Moops") while cool central air pumps throughout it and not suffering right along with me. But I've never used logic as an excuse not too rant. And rant I did! To anyone that would listen, which (because of the dangerously humid air quality that's been going on outside for 23 of 24 hours in the day) meant I had to take my complaints to Facebook and le Twitter like everyone else in the city. And when that would no longer satisfy me, I decided to just take it out on my television and yell at anybody on the screen that appeared not to be drowning in a pool of their own sweat. Trapped inside my own apartment, I settled on some brainless reality programming, namely an E! special on the 40 most epic reality t.v. moments. The program covered everything from the time the Real (Ho)usewives of New Jersey fought to end Apartheid in South Africa to the now classic episode of Cash Cab where Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back of the cab, opting instead to call "shotgun" on host Ben Bailey. What's that you say? None of that really happened? Well it certainly needed to because as the years tick by, reality programming has pooped out some really crappy ( <---see what I just did there) concepts. These include a show about swamp people, a guy that horse-whispers naughty kitty cats (not as exciting as it sounds) and like thirteen different shows about ugly and/or fat people that repo cars for a living.
|Hey, we can't all be supermodels.|