#GBE2: My Turn

I hate reality TV. It's more than just the obvious fact that I'd be the first one voted off the island due to my tactless thirst for honesty. The queen bee would make a heartless remark about the fat chick, and I'd be the one to say, "You arrogant dog! You're just saying that to turn everyone against her." Then it would be over for me.

I've never been good at people games. If someone treads where they shouldn't, I don't give subtle hints. Instead I boldly yell, "Get out of there!" My son calls it a lack of filter and sites it as the main reason all of his girlfriends and sibling's boyfriends have been afraid of me. I'm not that scary, unless you're trying to hide the truth–I'll find it.

The other night, I woke to a running toilet and found my youngest daughter poised in front of the television watching brides who were competing for plastic surgery. Individuals claimed to have noses that were too big or breasts that were too small, but in my mind, the only thing they needed was a psychologist's bench. 

What sort of message do these shows teach our kids? First off, you are not okay the way you are and must have plastic surgery in order to look good for your future husband. I don't know about you, but if my fiance supported my doing this, I'd tell him to take a hike. 

As for my son, if I saw a future Mrs. Lansky embarrassing the competition with twisted remarks on national TV, I'd work hard to break the engagement. 

Of course, my kids only date drop dead beautiful people anyway, so they'd never be on this plastic surgery show. But wait a minute, these girls weren't ugly either. It's not like they were 60+ years old and wanting a little botox to remove a wrinkle. Nor, were they victims of fire or accidents that had facial deformities. Absolutely nothing was wrong with the way any of them looked, so I have to question a doctor putting them through the surgery. Perhaps it was all about making money?

A Beautiful Bride

The winners of these shows are those who outsmart the others through cold, calculated, shrewdness. I don't know about you, but these are not the way I want people to act. Nor, am I in favor of humiliating individuals on national TV. It's as if we're telling our children that it's good to be cruel to others. 

If this is any indication of the world to come, I'm glad I'll be checking out in thirty years or so.

Games #AtoZ

I don't like games. Sure, deal me in after shuffling the cards or let me bankrupt you with hotel traps in Monopoly, these are not the games I'm referring too. I'm talking about those sickly, conniving tricks we humans play with each other for fun or personal gain. I like Billy Bob but instead of telling him, I'm going to flirt with Hugo and make him jealous. These are the games I despise.

Having never been a game player, I became victim to some of the worst mind muses during my young dating life--all without my knowledge. So Senior year of college when that Freshman boyfriend wanted to see if he could rekindle the old flame, I was ready with the coaching of a dear friend. 

When the ex called, my friend interrupted my conversation and said, "Tell him you got to go." I gave Barry an odd look, but he insisted, "You have to go." So I abruptly ended the conversation and felt the pull from the other end of the phone telling me that he still wanted to talk.

Next, Barry prepped me for the date. When we'd get to the restaurant, I was to tell my date that I'd promised to drive my roommate to Walgreens at three. I hadn't promised anything, but my friend told me that if I wanted this guy, I had to give him the idea that he's not the most important thing in my life. It sounded cheap, felt wrong, and when it came down to it, I decided this wasn't me and I wasn't playing the game. Although I chose not to drop my break away excuse, I knew exactly what was going on when he told me, "My old roommate is coming to the apartment to help me move at three." I also realized at that point, that this was not the guy for me. Being sure not to mess up his plans, I scooted out by three, even though my date insisted I didn't have to go. It wasn't a game. I really didn't want to be around someone who didn't treat me like I was important.

Now as a humor blogger, my post would not be complete without the comical end of game playing, so here goes more game stories that happened during those fun college years.

A friend of mine and I decided we weren't going to play the sly check out the new date routine by hiding behind the pole and taking casual glances. We played openly and honestly. Dressed in a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses, we carried our notepad and pen down to the lobby for pickup. We asked the poor victim to turn around while telling him the absolute truth. "I want to check out your butt before I'll let you date my friend." Next, we'd ask him multiple questions about what his intentions were with our friends. No lies or deceptions here!

Nor did I go along with the nasty boys of Zeta Beta Tau during their Little Sister Initiation. Lined up in front of the entire fraternity, they gave each girl a banana with whipped cream on top and asked us to show them what we'd do with it. I promptly chomped down on the piece of fruit and tore the top off. I don't like games.

Please tune in tomorrow when letter H will take us on a fun look at Historical Humor.