Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Bad Girls Club: Proof that humanity needs a reboot.

Is it just me or is this show trying to single-handedly usher in the apocalypse? God must not watch the Oxygen Network. Otherwise we'd all be dead by now.

Observe:


Classy.

The premise for Bad Girl's Club is similar to other reality shows. Gather 10 to 20 of the most irrational, unreasonable people you can find and put them in a McMansion with nothing but a hot tub and an endless supply of alcohol.

But these girls make Courtney Love look like Shirley Temple.

Relax, ladies. Neither of you should be allowed in public.

I understand that reality TV needs to push the envelope for the sake of shock value, but this show is really scraping the bottom of the gene pool. These girls seem almost proud of their social retardation. Like their glaring imperfections are part of a skill set that should be listed on a resume.

I feel I am most qualified for a position at Forever 21 because I am:
  • Easily provoked

  • Wildly promiscuous

  • And you best not get in my face cuz I be all like, "Get up outta my face, ho!"

One time I stayed home from work and watched a Bad Girl's Club marathon just to see what would happen. By the third hour I was on my front lawn in my underwear drinking vodka from the bottle and swearing at my neighbor's kids for "disrespecting me".

You think that's crazy? (it was) Once I encountered a "bad girl" in real life. It was a lot like being cornered by a rabid wolverine.

I was walking to my car after a particularly intense Tae Bo class when I noticed a woman stumbling toward me.

Like any bad-girl-fearing-man, my eyes went immediately to the woman's exposed midriff, where to my horror I saw what is most commonly referred to as the "Tramp Stamp". The defining characteristic of any "bad girl". See below:

At least they sell what they advertise.

Before I realized what was happening she was in my face demanding a cigarette. I politely told her I don't smoke and she replied, "SPRING BREAK!!! WAAAAAA!!!" It was at this point I realized that if I didn't do something quick she was going to kill me with her bare hands and eat my soul.

If you ever find yourself in this situation try to keep a clear head, because the solution is surprisingly simple.

Just give the rabid "bad girl" something she absolutely cannot resist. Something that will distract her long enough for you to sprint to the nearest police station. I'd suggest either of the following:


Hard to go wrong with free alcohol and
a trashy gift card.


Because let's be honest. She's going to get pregnant.


Unfortunately I had nothing like that on me. I did however have one of these:


You can't argue with 50 milliliters of Ketamine. One dart from
this baby can take down an elephant. So use at least three.


Five darts in and around her jugular did the trick! Before I knew it I'd stashed the body in a nearby dumpster and was home in time for Deal Or No Deal.

That night, as I watched Howie work his magic I realized something. It's not just Bad Girl's Club. Reality TV in general is like a giant, throbbing pimple on the ass of humanity.

Someone needs to put out a nationwide casting call for a hot new reality show called Fornication Island. Then put everyone who shows up to audition inside a giant rocket and fire it into the sun.

Maybe then our nation's youth will think twice before sodomizing their last shred of dignity on national television in exchange for free booze and fifteen minutes of fame.

2 comments:

Lindsey Capel said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Troy said...

Chris, loved the post. Reminds me of Vegas (which is near and dear to my heart). Vegas is where all the bad girls who were too skanky to be on a reality TV show go. I know, I see them at the school all the time. They kind of lose the bad girl attitude when you have a syringe full of Novacaine in front of their face.