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The Bachelor.

We are gathered here today, ladies and gentlemen, because it’s that time again. The time of the day when I emerge from whatever else I was doing and make the decision NOT to sleep. This typically happens around 10-11 on weekdays and 1-2 on weekends, and then I usually end up going to sleep a few hours later.
I spend these sleepless hours writing novels to the sounds of the Russian pop CD my brother brought home from Ukraine, facebooking till I drive everyone crazy with pointless notes, cleaning my room, reading Harry Potter fan fiction, curling my hair, or watching ridiculous tv shows.

Tonight, it is/was the Bachelor. It was one of the first reality shows, as I remember, and I think it’s one of the most entertaining. 25 girls come to a mansion in Malibu to meet an unknown millionaire named Brad. The ten that get kicked off in the first episode weep while making their confession to the cameramen: “I thought I was coming here for my happily ever after! I just… wanna… be married… sooo BAD!!!” So disgusting, but so enthralling all at the same time.

Here is MY not-so-weepy confession, Mr. Cameraman (this deserves a pausing of the Russian music): I want to be on the Bachelor.

Now before you silently judge me and put me on the crazy list, let me explain. All 25 girls in that season showed up in skanky halter tops with tans as fake as their nose jobs. (p.s. none of them were redheads.) Can you just imagine if I was on that show? I’d come without a speck of cleavage (a feat for someone like me), I’d only drink soda, and I wouldn’t take part in their “omgsheissuchabitch” conversations.

At the same time, I wouldn’t be all goody two-shoes either. I’d dazzle Mr. Bachelor with my dry wit and sarcasm, then probably reject him because he has an STD from that prostitute his friends bought him for his 30th birthday.

Even better—imagine if I HOSTED that show. The Bachelorette. The activities we’d participate in would range from playing monopoly to helping someone move to cooking meals for old people to grocery shopping (I’d kick off the guy who spent the most). That’s the way to REALLY get to know someone, instead of parties and swimming with dolphins.

To all you folks with connections in the reality tv industry, first of all, let me say, I feel for you. Second of all, please tell your friends about me.

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