The Case of the Mondays

I hate to admit it but I have gotten into this trend of watching two shows on Monday nights with my sister and her husband. I am sort of embarrassed to say that these shows are indeed "The Bachelorette" and "True Beauty." But let me assure you, my enjoyment for this reality tv comes from my pure disgust of the concepts of these two terrible shows.

Let me begin with "The Bachelorette." Oh but how to start...hmm...well...okay, I am sure most of you know the basic premise of the show; one girl who makes-out with fifteen or so guys who are all trying to make-out with her the best in order to win her over at the end. Simple enough, correct? Wrong! These guys all act like they are in love with her even though they have only known her for somewhere around a month and out of that month they must all share their time trying to get to know her. What's even worse is that she is in love...with them all. Can you imagine if this were real life? What if I signed up to meet the girl of my dreams and when I meet her, I come to find fourteen other guys drooling over her. What if that was life? For some reason I feel this is sort of what internet dating is like.

On to "True Beauty." For many, I believe this show is a lot less popular, but let me tell you, it is still every bit as intriguing as the previous. The premise of this show is that there are 10 "so called" beautiful people trying to compete for to be the "Face of Vegas." The real catch though, is the fact that they are being monitored by three judges on their inner beauty. Herein the problem lies. The types of tests that they have these people go through are absolutely nuts and are a crappy indicator of inner beauty, plus, I have a hard time believing that the judges are saints behind closed doors. But the true reason for watching this show happens to be that one of the contestants looks eerily like Vanilla Ice.

"There's No Crying In Baseball"

I hope to keep this post short and to the point. We will see how it goes.

A couple of weeks ago I attended the Royals game, sitting in what were the best seats i have ever had in my life. It was a lovely afternoon in the low 90s with a radiant sun beating against our faces; a stereotypical baseball day. It was during the phenomenon, known as the Seventh Inning Stretch, in which a young gentleman had hopped out on to the field and ran like a mad man. Within a matter of seconds a security guard had tackled him as it were nothing. Sure, we hear about these happening all the time, but I must admit, I wish it were me.