I should be concerned when my oldest descendant tried to lovingly warn me before leaving for the weekend "don't watch too many crappy reality shows." I realize that it must be disturbing for a son to see his mother watch countless episodes of America's Next Top Model, Work of Art, Big Brother, Flipping Out, and especially The Jersey Shore. (Knowing it could lead to a genital rash just by viewing.)
Above and beyond all of those horrific broadcasts, the most humiliating to admit to partake in is the one reality show that can eventually lead to profit when all is seen and done.
The Ultimate Catch.
I must say that halfway through the first episode the tiny little feminist part of me was completely disgustingly distraught.
That all changed once they brought out the bracket.
I quickly gathered my gambling gal pals to participate. Since I had already watched Chad on Dancing with the Stars, (real surprise) and knowing that he only goes for girls that want nothing to do with him, I thought I had this one in the bag.
Even after Ochocinco once again broke the rules and messed up the tournament last week, I still feel like I will prevail and win the pool, and more importantly my excuse to watch this shamefully immoral show.
