Musing in Manhattan

 With heat lights blaring down on my forehead and the police officer grilling me, probing for answers, I lower my head in shame.  ANSWER THE QUESTION!  ANSWER THE QUESTION!  With sweat pouring down my brow and the butterflies growing in my stomache I break:  Okay, Alright!  I can’t deny it any longer. I admit it!  I WATCH THE HILLS.  I am not proud of it.  I have tried to fight it. I don’t want to love it, but I do.  I love Lauren Conrad.  I think she is a great person and deserves every ounce of good fortune that comes her way.  I identify with her.  I know how it feels to deal with people who just don’t get that you have their best interest at heart.  I want to see Lauren find true love for herself.  I know the storylines are scripted–I know scenarios are set up but God help me I still love the stupid show. Whoever “isn’t” writing the script is keeping me glued to television. I love to hate Spencer and Heidi. I would love to see someone walk straight up to Spencer and punch him in his smirky face.  I would love to see someone hold him down and take a buzzer and shave that poor excuse for a beard. Yes, I was there Monday night–I was watching THE HILLS.  And I AM ASHAMED!

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