There’s no denying that many of us like watch reality TV shows. Who doesn’t want to see a train wreck? We want to watch people live bigger and better lives than ours. Or maybe we want to watch people whose lives are worse than ours. It’s exciting to see who will get the last Rose. It’s funny to watch someone else get their car repossessed. It’s heartwarming to see someone win their struggle to lose that last 20 pounds, and it’s annoying to watch someone sing that clearly shouldn’t.
I often wonder how bored people would be if the cameras followed me daily. You would see me get in the car go to work, get in the car go home, walk to the bathroom, go to the fridge then to the TV to watch someone else’s show and then go to bed and do the same thing over and over again. Of course for some excitement I would throw in the occasional visit by the overbearing mother and non-committal boyfriend, but other than that, I think my show would be cancelled before the first commercial.
Now remember reality shows are non-scripted. However, if someone, lets’ say my executive producer arranges for me and my fly girlfriends; the girls with the bouncing and behaving hair, flawless skin and perfect bodies, to be at the hottest nightclub in Atlanta and somehow I just happen to bump in to my arch rival Baby Mama, with whom I have had beef with for the past three months for no apparent reason … well you know the rest. Of course Baby Mama spots me, then runs over and pulls my weave, throws a glass of wine in my face and doesn’t leave! So what can I do but take off my Red Bottom Shoes and commence to beating her ass. The bouncers don’t come over; the cops don’t even show up, it’s perfection. Now that’s a hit show if I’ve ever seen one.
Does anyone really live like the “Basketball Wives,” or the “Mob Wives,” or the Housewives of various states? Whose reality is this? Because I can’t remember the last time anyone of my friends–Sharon, Tara, Kit, Yvette, or Kelli–slapped me upside the head with a purse or threw a bottle at me. It’s crazy. But who would watch if all we saw was Kim washing her wigs, or Evelyn working in her little shoe store?
The latest installation of reality insanity is “Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta.” My money is on Joseline, she’s pregnant by Stevie J, that’s Mimi’s man. Mimi, Girl you better fight for your man.
“Can we, all just get along?”
- Rodney King
To read other articles from Sandie Sweet visit :