Okay, this is not something I really want to admit, but I love reality TV shows. I wish I could tell you that I sit around reading Chekov in my spare time, or doing something very clever and creative to stimulate my children’s minds.

But, the painful reality (no pun intended) is that our whole family watches a lot of reality TV like “Survivor.”

The addiction built slowly. It started with home improvement shows on HGTV. At least then I could kid myself that it was educational.

Then, I got onto the harder stuff, thanks to my friend, newspaper columnist Frank Mickadeit.

Frank would not stop writing about “Real Housewives of Orange County,” so I finally toked up, out of curiosity. I was so stunned that I just couldn’t turn it off. What would those people do next? Was there no depth of venality or conspicuous consumption to which they would not stoop? (Answer: No.) After I sat glued to the first season, I figured there could not possibly be a second season, because when those women saw how the show’s editors had made them look like awful harridans, they would all immediately leave the country and enter convents in Bulgaria. Ha, fooled me. They loved the attention. They don’t mind having their medical procedures filmed. They don’t mind having family fights on national TV. I keep waiting for one of them to show us a closeup of her uterine polyps.

It was Frank’s fault I got addicted. But I blame myself for not going through rehab. I even started searching around for a more family-friendly show that I could watch with my kids.

Then I found it: “Survivor,” which airs on CBS. Last season, Cheetah Boy, Curly Girl and I were riveted to the entire season of “Survivor: Micronesia.” We would tape several episodes and then have a mini-Survivor fest at home, flopped on the couch, yelling at the screen. When the series was over, we just looked at each other in a daze and wondered what we could possibly do with our evenings now, with no “Survivor” to watch.

The answer: DVDs, of course. We are now going all the way back to the first shows. We just starved with the castaways through the Australian outback with the second season, crying with them when a brutal storm swept away their entire camp, wincing as they became emaciated from lack of food, cringing when a fish made off with their last fishhook, leaving them with no prospect of eating. I would like to say that this episode put me on a diet, but, sigh, no.

Now, we’re onto the next season that I can find on DVD, while we wait for “Survivor: Gabon” to start Sept. 18. Just last week, they had auditions here in Orange County for an upcoming “Survivor.” I really, really wanted to go to the auditions, not because I would have any hope of being picked, but because I was curious about the people who were trying out. Wonder if any of them will make it?

Meanwhile, we will lounge in our comfy suburban living room, avoiding all socially productive activities, rotting our minds with more reality TV. At least we get to feel superior when we watch Supernanny, that we aren’t as obnoxiously messed up as those families. Gee, what a way to raise children.

Now, if I could just get the Dog Whisperer to come and teach our dog not to jump on everyone…..

Posted in: Frumpy Middleaged Mom - Marla Jo Fisher • Dog Whisperer • Frank Mickadeit • Nanny 911 • parenting • Real Housewives of Orange County • reality TV • Supernany • Survivor TV show • Survivor: Australia • Survivor: Micronesia |

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