My time is the right time

I like to think of my TV time as valuable real estate. I figure that there are all of those advertising people out there being paid way more than I can comprehend, I might as well make them work for it. I consider it a challenge that I lay down every time I pick up the remote. Entertain me.

So, with the attention span of a hummingbird, I switch programs a lot to find something I like. Once I find something, I'll watch it in its entirety. But if I can't find anything on our 900 channels, I punish the TV stations by turning the TV off and finding a project that needs to be done around the house, or I go check the AP wire, cause I'm a bit of a news junkie. With that many channels to choose from and my never-ending penchant for projects, there's always something to do so I don't like to waste time on a program that sucks, like, say, Home Movies and all episodes of Family Guy that aren't centered around Stewie or Bryan.

That being said, I do watch what others would consider very bad television sometimes. Like MTV, a lot. There, now that that's out of the way, we can move on to what I really want to talk about. Cribs. I found myself watching an hour of this today. After watching Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares (one of my favorite ways to laugh at others who can't cook and get my fill of Brit TV) and because I knew that TRL (one of the shows I detest the most) wasn't on, I thought I'd see what MTV was offering.

Cribs can really run the gamut. Sometimes when I watch it, I feel disgusted at the ways in which rich people waste money. Sometimes, I pick up some really good decorating ideas and sometimes I just watch to see what their kitchens look like. But sometimes it really makes me pity these "stars" and "celebrities." Two things will bring out the pity in me for these people. One, some of them are so detached from the real world and treat others so badly and have so much useless crap that I feel they are just a waste of human. Then again, they are entirely happy to be such retards that I suppose that until they harm someone else and can be caught, they could probably be left alone.

Reason number two is that some of these people think they really are famous when, in reality, Madonna turned Cribs down at the last minute and they needed someone to fill the spot and you'd been emailing them for months trying to get the camera crews to look at your super hot 32-inch TV in your living room.

Seeing these people on TV is just embarrassing. Not the funny, Office-esque way, just embarrassing.

You could tell the girl on today's episode thought she was the shiz-nit. She welcomed the cameras into her apartment ... not mansion, not house, not cool loft, her apartment that looked not unlike one I had in college. Now, had she been trying to be frugal, that's something I could really respect, like the episode on Sean William Scott. He shared an apartment with a friend and didn't want to blow all of his money on things, he was saving. I don't know if that's still his situation, but I applauded his lip service for the TV.

This girl, however, thought she was being so unbelievably cool. We enter her living room, which is smaller than mine and more sparsely decorated. She did have a pair of boxing gloves to prove how "tuff" she was, though. And some beta fish under her coffee table. Moving on to the kitchen, you see her large box of dum-dums. She told the camera she had to have those...insert your own joke here. In the fridge, tons of sugary drinks, including shelves full of something called Crunk. Being a "cracka," I'd never drank the stuff, but she must have stock in it. She explained all of this as proof that she was ghetto.

Into the bedroom, a small bedroom, she shows her bed, dresser and closet that's smaller than mine. Nothing too interesting. But the highlight of the room was the small fridge with the Crunk logo all over it, filled with the drink. I wonder how much they paid her? She also said she slept on top of her covers and sheets, 'cause she's ghetto like that.

At this point, I was starting to avert my eyes.

Having failed to impress the cameras or at home audiences, she decides to take us down the road to her apartment's communal garage. We see that she's bought a purple Bratz bike, because someone told her she looks like one of the dolls. She also had a pretty sweet looking motorcycle, which she fessed up to not knowing how to ride. Then there was the required Mercedes and Escalade. Nothing I haven't seen lawyers drive. Nothing special, no crazy TV or computer screens anywhere. Snorrrreeeee.

Then she shows us where she takes her dogs to go to the bathroom. Seriously? Even I wouldn't do that and anyone who knows me knows how crazy I am about my babies. If you're going to be on TV showing off how "cool" you are or you are pretending to be, don't show your dogs' feces. Please.

I'm no expert, but I do totally read stuff and after watching an entire half hour of her house and having her talk, I still don't know who this girl was supposed to be or what she's done.

The next part of the show featured the head hancho of Rocafella records. Now here's a segment I can respect. This guy knew how to play to the cameras. He had several well-known people call his phone and leave funny messages, so he could play them back for MTV and people would know that he knows and hangs with these people. This makes sense. He's got a kitchen full of chefs and a pool full of 15-year-olds in bikinis. Did I mention that his pad was in England? This guy knew how Cribs worked.

So, if you're not famous, don't go on Cribs. Going on Cribs won't make you famous, so do something first and if you have a sucky place or a place that's smaller than one that I, someone making a fraction of what you spend at Louis Vuitton, can afford, don't waste our valuable TV time!