Katy McDermott

It happens every year. I swear I’m not going to be seduced by the hyperbolic come-ons (“our most controversial audition ever!”) of American Idol, but every year I am anyway.

Currently, I’m watching American Idol, The Biggest Loser, Project Runway, and Survivor. Over the summer, I never missed an episode of So You Think You Can Dance, and I took occasional detours to the Jersey Shore (oh, the shame!) and spent a few hours with some Real Housewives. (Side note: Real Housewives apparently have no jobs and multimillionaire husbands. All of them. Somewhere, Gloria Steinem is crying.)

I’m not proud of this.

Part of the problem is all the associated written content (thanks for the recaps, EW.com and Project Rungay guys) – I’m a big fan of the written word, obviously, so half the reason I watch these shows now is to see what assorted brilliant and funny writers will say about them. Then, of course, there are several hilarious video blogs devoted to the most popular programs. Can’t miss those.

The scheduling conflicts with the scripted shows I watch are a bit of a challenge. I also have a problem with the near-constant sleep deprivation as I wake at 5:30 each morning and drive, bleary-eyed, to work. The worst thing, though, is my lack of eye contact when one of my family tries to talk to me during “my” shows. Sometimes, it seems like our most profound interaction is over the unjust ouster of a hapless reality show contestant…

Good God, what is happening to me?

Six hours of inane reality TV in a good week. If I’m going to watch TV, at least it could be something intellectual like a documentary on PBS or a nature show on BBC America. But no – it’s Top Chef for me (how on earth do they chop an onion so fast? And without crying too?) The best I can figure is that it’s my insecurities coming out. I can’t sing, dance, or design clothes. I can’t even chop an onion properly. I would certainly never eat bugs (I’m in awe of anyone who goes without proper bathrooms for 40 days) or work out for 9 hours at a time. My theory: I’m fascinated by reality TV because I like watching people do stuff I can’t do.

Proof positive: I’m bored by the Bachelor and all its “Love” iterations (Rock of/Shot of/Flavor of/etc.), probably because I’m content in my own relationship. Being happy with my guy? That’s something I can do.

Nowadays, in addition to the old standbys, it seems like there’s a reality show for every taste…

My favorite of the up-and-coming “stuff you’ll never ever do but are secretly fascinated by” reality TV genre is Deadliest Catch (RIP, Captain Phil!) Those guys are NUTS, and it’s so much fun to watch. More than once, I’ve cheered their discovery of a full-to-bursting crab pot from my anything-but-icy living room in the placid suburbs of Philadelphia. I had a company holiday recently, and was as pleased as a 4-year-old girl who got a pony for Christmas to spend the entire afternoon watching a Deadliest Catch marathon. 

Then there’s the “you could totally do this – why don’t you try it?” type of reality show. Ace of Cakes, Trading Spaces, and the like. I may not be able to make a multi-layered Deathstar-shaped confection for my husband’s next birthday, but by God, I can do better than a store-bought sheet cake with a few glutinous icing roses and his name spelled wrong. As for Trading Spaces, that looks ridiculously easy. Find a pair of fantastic matching bookcases at a yard sale, repaint them (it only takes a minute and a half on the show, after all), add a few colorful throw rugs, and impress the heck out of my friends. (Although I suspect some of those shows are rigged. The only yard sales I seem to find are the ones with broken-down Big Wheels and some mismatched crockery displayed on a wobbly card table.) 

I also enjoy reality shows in the “don’t you feel smug and superior?” genre. Shows like Half-Ton Teen and Ruby – no matter how dissatisfied I may be with my weight, I always feel better after an hour of watching someone who’s 700 pounds. That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?

The one I admit to not getting is the “watch these spoiled rich kids!” genre. MTV is the head-scratcher network for me, as far as reality TV is concerned. I’m hardly their demographic, but still – My Super Sweet Sixteen makes me want to throw things at the screen every time I see it. And I can’t help wondering what those parents DO for a living – are they all drug kingpins or something? My husband and I work hard at professional jobs for solid companies – but we could no more have given our 16-year-old a convertible Porsche than flown to the moon. We rented a tent for her party, and considered that a big deal!

Of course, I can’t forget the “morbid curiosity” shows like Trauma: Life in the ER and Mystery Diagnosis. Will so-and-so survive his blunt-force trauma head wound? Can this infant come through 18 surgeries to correct her potentially crippling birth defect? Of course, the patients are always fine in the end, which makes me feel better about occasionally wallowing in this “slow-down-for-the-accident-scene” reality TV genre.

So wait – that’s actually more than American Idol, The Biggest Loser, Project Runway, and Survivor, isn’t it?

Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Deadliest Catch, Top Chef, Ace of Cakes, Trading Spaces, Half-Ton Teen, Ruby, My Super Sweet Sixteen, Trauma: Life in the ER, Mystery Diagnosis… and that’s not even counting my new faves in the growing “bet you wish you had a dog” genre of reality TV: Dog Whisperer, Dogtown, and the ever-compelling Underdog to Wonderdog.  

As I mentioned, I’m not proud of it.

But thank God for Tivo!