Too Much Reality Teevee? D'ya Think?

Warning: Dream Alert! You've been warned! (Sometimes there's nothing more boring than listening to someone else's dreams....... uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....)

I love reality teevee. I follow several programs, so many that I’ve had to make myself an Xcel spreadsheet to keep track of them all. I usually miss watching most of them and have to set aside a block of time to catch up on all the latest episodes online. One of my favorites is The Colony on the Discovery Channel. Another is RuPaul’s Drag U on Logo. Another is Big Brother on CBS.

The Colony fancies itself a post-apocalyptic sociological/psychological human experiment which strands a group of survivors in an urban setting and tests their abilities to interact as a group while attempting to procure potable water, food, shelter and power. They're attacked by rival gangs, they have their supplies stolen and they have their members abducted for food and medical supply ransom. Gnarly!

RuPaul’s Drag U takes a new group of three everyday women each week and “schools” them with an over-the-top makeover in an attempt to release their inner diva. Fabulous!

Big Brother plops a group of surprisingly shallow people into a home with all the creature comforts. They are isolated from the outside world and followed by cameras 24 hours a day. Vacuous!

So last night, in the middle of the night, my dog Spike awakened me right after an interesting dream that seemed to combine the three reality shows. I found myself stranded in a building in Las Cruces with two other women and three other men. We had all of the creature comforts – food, water, shelter, power, internet, cable tv, everything. The building itself was a very contemporary structure designed as a maze. It was a pain in the rumpus to get around in, let alone find the other people most of the time.

Now imagine a young Jason Bateman, bright, funny, adorable. In my dream he appeared as a twenty-something surfpunk - very athletic, with long surfer hair and trendy surfpunk attire. All of the women had their eye on him. One of the women was a statuesque twenty-something supermodel without much presence other than her physical perfection; the other a petite vivacious little twenty-something bubbling over with personality and artistic flair. I found myself represented as the token zaftig girl, slightly older, self-conscious and feeling at a distinct image disadvantage as we three vied for Jason’s attention, all totally in love with him.

He'd decided from the beginning that I was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with but he did get side-tracked by the other two in the beginning. First he was distracted by the supermodel - not very interesting but beautiful - until he found out from the others that she’d had extensive “work”. When he discovered that she was not only boring but totally fake, he rejected her advances. In the meantime the petite entrepreneur had produced a brilliant film about herself which she projected onto the ceiling of the building so it could be seen from anywhere in the maze. She’d also made clever beautiful full-colored posters which she put up all throughout the structure. Jason was briefly distracted by her but also rejected her advances - funny and talented but too self-absorbed.

Once he'd gotten back on track, the remainder of the dream was all about us finding each other in the maze. While we searched for our true love, I was desperately trying to apply my diva makeup for our first romantic encounter. (I'd previously won a professional makeup kit when I graduated from Drag U with top honors.) Jason and I finally came face to face and fell into a deep embrace. I moved in for the first of many romantic kisses, lips slightly parted (TMI Bucksnort! TMI!!). He moved in too, gave me a very short peck, smiled and said “What’s for dinner?”.

So, did he want “the girl” or was he attracted by her obvious culinary skills? I guess that some day if I go to heaven, they’ll tell me it was “the girl”. If I go to hell, they’ll tell me it was my cooking.

Moral of the story: Don’t watch too much reality teevee. Delete that spreadsheet! This stuff'll soak into your psyche and send you careening through a maze in search of your true love, and in the end, all you'll discover is that being fat has its dubious advantages.

Did my self-esteem triumph over my competition? Or did my lack of self-esteem place me in a laughably humiliating situation? If you’ll excuse me, I've gotta go. Apparently my inner diva needs some more attention. Work it, Bucksnort!