Okay, True Confessions time. I like reality TV. (I come to praise my viewing habits, not to defend them?!) I've seen almost every episode of every season of Real World and Road Rules, I watched all of Survivor I and II, and I don't even want to admit how much I know about Big Brother I and II. I haven't ventured off into the "specialized shows" like Temptation Island, Boot Camp, The Mole and some of the other variations, so I guess I'm not totally addicted to these shows. Either that or DeNile isn't just a river in Africa.

There's some weird part of me that identifies with small-town girls thrown into the diverse mixture of psychos, roommates, and settings of The Real World. I cried when Julie (the Mormon girl from Real World New Orleans) cried that her life had been so sheltered, and how she felt cheated out of a whole world out there. Of course Julie cried a lot, but that one got to me -- I knew how she felt. I remember Julie from the first Real World in New York City being scared to take public transportation for the first time. Been there, done that.

I drooled over the opportunities unappreciated by the kids on Road Rules: Semester at Sea, where they went to college aboard a cruise ship that docked in various exotic cities as part of the curriculum. Yeah, cool, let's get drunk in Cape Town. I hissed at Jerri the Bitch on Survivor II, and cheered on Richard on Survivor I. My favorite Big Brother I person was Cassandra, who showed dignity throughout the entire time she was in the house, and who unfortunately was voted out because of it. The backbiting and manipulating in Big Brother reminds me of certain jobs I've had. I can only hope that I've acted more like Cassandra, and less like Karen (the neurotic manipulative one) than I am afraid I did.

And I think that's why I like these shows -- believe it or not, I learn how to act from them. Okay, most often I learn how NOT to act from them, but vive la difference. People who think PBS is the only educational TV around just aren't getting around the dial enough. (note to self: Is HGTV addiction a Guilty Pleasure?)

I learn that it's okay to be a hick from a small town who's never taken public transportation -- we might all laugh at it, but someone's going to show me how to do it. I learn that people who are going to party their college days away are going to do it whether they're going to State U., Ivy League School or Cruise Ship College. It's the person, not the school. (Author's note: I'm one of those rare individuals who should drink more, not less. The Tarts have sworn to help me through this difficult transition.)

This season in Big Brother brought home some of my past denial -- I'd like to think that I would have always known the Justin was a real psycho for holding a knife to a woman's throat while kissing her - but I can't say for sure that I would have known that while I was in my 20s. Yes, he was joking; yes, they were drunk; yes, she didn't feel threatened. A long time ago, if it had happened to me, I would have defended his actions as "it didn't bother me -- it was a joke!" Through the wisdom of ages, I now know that it's just WRONG. And how other people react to it is just as telling as whether they laugh at racist jokes or gay-bashing humor. I can clock my own changes in comparison to real people placed in some unreal situations.

Sure, I get to laugh at Puck's obnoxiousness or Amaya's neediness, and feel superior to them. Sure, I get to drool over the idea of taking a Winnebago across Europe with people from all different countries. No, I wouldn't want to have "been there, done that." That's why I like to watch the shows - grateful that I wasn't there, and enjoying the fantasy of what it would have been like if I had been there. Now, if we can just get rid of Dr. Will on Big Brother II, my life would be a while lot better.

Keep up to date with Big Brother 2 at The TV Clubhouse, Big Brother Addict, or the Official Big Brother site. Check out MTV's site for more info on The Real World and Road Rules.

Beth Tindall is our webmistress, and we Tarts solemnly swear to do more to get her over that "need to drink more, not less" thing. We vow to ride public transportation with her at Bouchercon 2001 in the big, bad city of Washington DC. Not necessarily while sober, mind you…

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