For those of you who don?t know, I’m on sabbatical this week in Armpit, Michigan. Sure, it’s green, it’s gorgeous, they don’t have scorpions lining up to climb into the trap door of my briefs. But on the other hand?
I put no sunscreen on today. I’m resident landscaper for my grandpa this week, which is totally fine because it means I’m not behind a computer all day long, and what the heck, why not get a tan? Well, better put, a farmer’s tan. So there’s the dilemma, is pale white skin all over my body or an uneven tan better? In most cases, the uneven tan delivers in the way that shoving all my clutter under the bed translates into a clean room. People only see the visible tan and believe you are beautifully bronzed on every acre of your manliness. But that isn’t the truth, of course, the shades have been pulled over their eyes: unless I mow the lawn totally naked, I can’t get an even tan.
So I opted for no sunscreen and yes, I’m sporting a farmer’s tan at the moment. Except that one of my arms is magically more burned then the other. This is easily explained to curious onlookers as “Driver’s Arm” except that it’s on my right arm. You don’t know how many people believe I’m British taxi cab driver now.
I also watch too much reality TV here, and let’s get one thing straight before I say anything else. Rachel, you are a player. But you are only worth a $1. And you are a liar. Preston sees through your mind game, and he knows the truth. You are after money, but you, my friend, are going down. Unless he cannot control his hormones and decides that making out with hot chick = true love, you are burning in Reality TV Elimination Hell in at least a week. Unless there is some crazy “Duuuude-you-thought-she-was-gone- but-we-brought-her-back-and-now-her-cans-are- huger-than-ever-and-she’s-worth-$3-million” reality TV switcheroo.
“For Love or Money” gets 2 out of 5 stars, and for those of you who don’t know about this show, it’s like 20 attractive women are trying to hook it up with a man, but it could be for love or money. It’s that simple and totally done before, but again, I rate it low especially because Preston, the main dude, is an idiot. He reminds me of a jazzed-up version of that dork Oswald from The Drew Carey Show. That means he is a jazzed-up dork, and anything that is a jazzed-up version of something bad is still bad, except that he isn’t funny like Oswald’s character. It’s like going to the proctologist and hearing, “Don’?t you worry little buddy, my rubber gloves are now jazzed-up with these new racing stripes and keyless entry!” but you can’t focus on the improvement because you are being violated. Preston is like an ear and eye violation, but with racing stripes. Here is an example of one of his eliminations at the end of the show, “[Hot Chick], I feel like you and I are a train wreck relationship-wise. We haven’t talked, and it appears that you are avoiding me and my hormones. So, I’m saying all this because, um [long pause, slow motion camera zoom, cue tense piano music straight out of teenage slasher movie, cut to possibly eliminated chick at her weakest, slow motion zoom on her tears for ravenous viewers nationwide], well, um, I’m saying all this because I would like to practice safe procreation in the backseat of a horse and buggy carriage. I’m eliminating you from being eliminated tonight. Really, I’m just dragging this out as long as possible to make you feel sad, happy, and suicidal all within the 12 seconds I have to eliminate you. So please, stay on for another hideous week of this television show where you exploit your sexuality by putting on skimpy clothes so that NBC can sell more advertisements for that Intuition razor.”
This is why I don’t like watching TV because it makes me so angry. I really need to go to sleep now. I’m off to Canada tomorrow.