give me a break big brother

I’ve been camping in my empty apartment again this week. All the furniture’s been shipped down to the house and I’m crashing on Eddie Bauer’s Luxury Insta-Bed, which any way you cut it, is still a blow-up bed. So I’ve cracked a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, which I’m drinking from a paper cup, and am sitting in my tweety bird jammies giving my new laptop a test run. Boy do I know how to live!

Makes sense to leverage the apartment since most of this month’s business is in Seattle. But now it's empty and there’s nothing to do other than write, read, practice yoga, yak on the phone, eat Ben & Jerry’s, or watch the small portable TV I used to keep in my studio for late night work stints. Tonight I’m bored. And I'm out of Ben & Jerry's. So—I’m really embarrassed to say this—I have one eye glued to a show that I’ve always refused to watch, and will never view again: Big Brother. The All-Stars. (…huh?)

What is with those people! Capital-A-Awful doesn’t begin to cover it. In the 30 minutes I’ve been cringing and cursing, the only person to hint at a modicum of integrity is the strikingly handsome, bearded Kaysar. And the only mildy interesting segment was when what's-his-name (the dumb one...okay that's not nice, the laid back one) left his towel on the bath tub and climbed out of the shower butt naked. The 'interesting bit', of course, was blurred out.

Please tell me what drives people to showboat their sneaky, spiteful, pitiful, conniving selves anywhere, let alone on national TV? They call it strategy. I call it ugly. They call it game. I call it pathetic. Do they really believe they’re destined to become the next great star? In the words of 20-20’s John Stossel—give me a break!