Fake boobs, tattoos, cat fights, home-wreckers, trips to the mall, visible panty lines, Brazilian waxes, endless domestics and lashings of designer fashions.
Let’s not beat around the bush, we love reality shows because they’re trashy.
They’re escapist. Like a lazy person’s romance novel, with tattoos and bitch fights - so wrong in absolutely every single way. And that’s what makes them sooo good.
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More than 90 per cent of people who finish Snooki’s book A Shore Thing reportedly Google the phrase: “If I hold my breath for 45 seconds while repeatedly head-butting a wall, will I get amnesia?”
A more pressing question for many of you, however, is probably “who or what is a Snooki?”
Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi is the result of an innovative reality television show called Jersey Shore which places a bunch of potential sexual harassment lawsuits in a house in New Jersey and leaves them to enjoy some good ol’ fashioned ‘roid rage, borderline alcoholism and painful acronym-inventing (eg. DTF).
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It seems the gloves have come off recently, and everybody is climbing on their high horse about the level of stupidity on television.
I’m not sure why there seems to be this sudden upsurge of feeling superior to those who tune in to such things as Jersey Shore—which seems to be a major culprit in the upturn—but it’s reached the point where it requires examination.
As though tuning in to the National Press Club Address somehow makes one less stupid than changing the channel to a ludicrously scripted bit of televised nonsense.
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