In Defense of Reality TV

It's a hard knock life for reality TV. People looo-ooo-ooove to trash talk this allegedly trashy brand of TV, and they love to trash talk the people who watch it.

But I’m here to admit to the world that I LOVE REALITY TV AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT.

In some ways, I feel as though I should be in hiding. Or in a support group. Reality TV does seem like the ditzy cheerleader of daily programming, and it’s as addictive as Doritos. But to counter those who oppose my one true love, I would like to submit this highly technical and fact-based statement:

REALITY TV IS AWESOME!!!!!

And here are the reasons why…

1. It teaches you stuff.

            I never knew what geoduck was before Top Chef, did you?

2. Life is unscripted.

            Scripted TV shows imitate natural dialogue and speech patterns—so why not skip the middleman and listen to the real thing? Sure, there’s some prompting from producers in reality TV, but there is also a surplus of spontaneity. TLC producers can encourage Honey Boo Boo to say, “You’d betta redneckognize!” but they could never have predicted the endearing moment in which she accidentally sneezed two snot rockets out of her nose, covered her face with her hands, and sat there in silence for a full 70 seconds, unsure what to do next. Oh Honey Boo Boo, you made me love you.

3. It opens your world.

            I knew that there were women in the world who were connected to the mob, but I could never have imagined what they did while their husbands were “away” until I saw Mob Wives. I know there are people who drink too much and spray tan and hook up with juicehead guidos, but I could never have envisioned it until I saw Jersey Shore. I know there are people who sell antique pistols that have been family heirlooms since the American Revolution to finance their gambling habits, but I didn’t realize how sad and desperate they actually are until I saw Pawn Stars. 

4. It helps you live vicariously through others.

            I will never live in a villa on the South of France, but when I watch House Hunters International, I can feel the sun on my face as I enjoy wine and cheese on the veranda with an ex-pat family of four who wanted a change of lifestyle so they moved to France, where the wife teaches yoga nearby, the husband works remotely in the home office that was one of their must-haves, and their two adorable little girls go to French school and learn to say cute things like, "Mamá!" and "Papá!"

5. It provides (often negative) examples of conflict resolution.

            Thanks to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I now know that as tempting as it may be, you should neither tell people to STFU nor send a cease and desist letter. Friends don't sue friends. (Except when they do.)

6. It gives you tons of supplemental reading material.

            I don’t love watching The Bachelor. (Sorry, Chris Harrison!) But I do love reading show recaps on Vulture and EW and discussing them with my friends. If you haven’t read them (and you should), they are lengthy, informative, and pithy weekly show descriptions so detailed that they often require rereading to pick up on all the hilarious allusions and inside jokes. In short, they are written as if your super smart gay BFF is commenting on the show as you’re watching together.

Por ejemplo:

“And a big welcome back to you, Sean Lowe! You're looking as buff and rosy-hued as ever. I suppose a few months relaxing at home in Dallas—or, even better, in your niece's giant pink princess playhouse emporium—would soothe anyone's broken heart. (And of course, never underestimate the healing power of schadenfreude.) Though Sean's pecs, lats, delts, and biceps have clearly lost the will to cover themselves after getting dumped by Emily, the newly-minted Bachelor refuses to let this slow down his pre-‘journey’ training regimen. ‘I know it's going to be physically exhausting,’ says Shirted Confessional Sean, while Sweaty Shirtless Sean towels off after a set of bicep curls. 'I might go through that same heartache that I experienced with Emily.'”

7. Schadenfreude

            Sometimes it really does feel good to laugh at someone else’s misfortune. When The Situation headbutts a wall while drunk on Jersey Shore, or Tierra cries her black mascara into a KISS-like frenzy on on The Bachelor, or Kourtney or Khloe or Kim start a kollection of klothing at Kmart (a store they would’ve previously never set an orange toe in) on Keeping Up with the Kardashians, it takes you out of your own world. It makes you forget that you’re collecting unemployment even though you have a master’s degree.

8. You can learn new skills.

            As a result of watching Sweet Genius, Income Property, Hoarders, and Shark Tank, I am now a chef, an interior designer/handyman, a professional organizer, and an entrepreneur. Just try me.

9. It reassures you that you can handle life’s difficulties.

            Regardless of circumstances, many reality shows have feel-good endings that demonstrate a dynamic change in the central character…or they show us how dumb you look when you make the same boneheaded mistakes over and over again. If, like Deena from Jersey Shore, you have a few too many cocktails and get thrown in the drunk tank, your parents will come to your rescue; although they may yell at you, they will always love you. Just look at the lesson she learned, "I was just trying to dance on the street. Clearly you can't do that, and I actually got in trouble for not using sidewalks. ... That was my charge. So now I know: Don't dance in the street." Happy Meatball Day, Deena!

10. It instills a can-do attitude.

            You’re obviously more intelligent than anyone on these programs, so reality TV makes you feel that if those morons can star in their own shows and become rich and famous, so can you. It’s the American way. So relax, drink it in, and thank your lucky DVRs that you live in a country where anyone--and I mean anyone--can become a star.

Movin’ on Up: The Quest for the Perfect NYC Apartment (Part 5)

See that?

That's what my room looked like when I moved out. I had to shove all of my stuff in the closet and center of the room. Why, you ask? Because I had to move out of my room on September 1st, but I couldn't move into the new apartment until September 4th. Long story.

Anyway, I was homeless for three days, during which I vacationed on the Jersey Shore (I know, rough life, right?), and I returned on September 4th to meet the movers.

Now, this was my first experience hiring a moving company, which intimidated me. Even though I got a recommendation from a friend for a group of hardworking Russians at a decent price (and they were also positively reviewed in New York Magazine), it freaked me out that they only took my name and phone number and told me they'd be there "sometime around 8/9 o'clock." Because they didn't require a deposit (which, in hindsight, was extremely nice), I convinced myself that they wouldn't show. So, being the worrywart I am, I invented about three different reasons to call between the time I first spoke to them and moving day, just to reassure myself they'd show up.

And show up, they did. Even though they had the wrong address and it took them three calls to find the apartment. (Apparently "nine" and "five" sound similar to Russians who speak English as a second language.) They were incredibly fast, polite, and thorough, which I really appreciated. They didn't break anything, they carried everything down 97 steps, and they gave me the job of sitting in the truck to make sure it didn't get ticketed. I felt incredibly awkward "supervising" as the "client," since I am completely able-bodied. But I guess that's what you do when you hire movers. You watch them move.

With only about 17 mentions of our new apartment being small, they efficiently brought everything up the elevator to our new digs, only went 30 minutes over the estimated time, and presented us with the bill.

I knew this moment would be awkward, so to make it as painless as possible, I asked the moving company fellow at the other end of my four phone calls about the tip amount. He told me to give 20% of the total in cash. Which is exactly what I did.

The moving company money counter counted the money. And paused.

And counted it again. And paused.

Finally, he said, "We do good job. Fast work. More money for each man?"

Even though I wanted to roll my eyes--actually, I probably did roll my eyes--I handed over more cash.

He went through his count-pause-count-pause routine a couple more times and said, "We work hard. I no charge you for full last hour. Forty dollar each man?"

"Forty dollars each? I called and was told to give you 20% from your supervisor. I've given you WAY more than that. I don't understand what this is all about." I was red-faced and angry at that point but was trying to rein it in since my roommates' parents were watching.

"Just give it to him," they said. "Here it is--give him this." And with that, they handed me the ridiculously inflated tip money, which was indescribably lovely of them.

But I was still mad at the movers. How dare they soak us for cash when I took all of the appropriate steps to treat them more than fairly??? I've been a waitress at Crapplebee's, and many of my friends work in the restaurant industry, so I pride myself on my 20%+ tips. Even if something goes terribly wrong with my meal, I never leave less than 15%. Ever. Ooooo, those movers really made me angry. Actually, even typing the story now makes me furious. They can expect a mixed-to-negative Yelp review from me. And a strongly worded letter.

P.S. I just did a little tip research that I wish I had done earlier. The Yelp consensus is that $15-$25 per man is the usual. Not $40. I'm fuming again. Though I suppose it's all water under the bridge. I would have to think really hard to tell you how much I spent total, so it didn't exactly break the bank. Live and learn. The more you know. Etc, etc, etc.