Real World
Don't Call Me Daughter

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Fat Pig

Hey all. I'd just like to thank sensitive psychopath Jame Gumb for filling in for me last week. I was following the great jam band Blues Traveler around the country, but they lost me somewhere outside of Akron and I spent a couple of weeks unable to find them. It was very depressing, but then on my way home I happened upon The String Cheese Incident playing the Teva Footwear Woodstock-West Festival outside of Laramie, Wyoming, and I would have been home sooner, but during "Somebody Stole My Rainbow," Kyle Hollingsworth -- who had foolishly mixed Wellbutrin and Ecstasy -- launched into a zither solo that he couldn't find his way out of until three days later. So Jame Gumb filled in for me at the last minute, and I thank him for it.

Like Jame, after fifteen or whatever fucking seasons of watching, this is the first year I just couldn't deal. Maybe I've finally outgrown the show, or maybe it's just not the same without the magic of Mary-Ellis, but after one episode of these privileged cockslaps, I cancelled the TiVo Season Pass and had just a little more free time in my week. So if I'm unhip to Shavonda's past hissyfits or Sarah's dick-sucking tour of Fiji, you'll have to forgive me.

Let's get retarded in here! I mean, let's get it started in here.

Previously on...Hey, it's Jon Bon Jovi. I must be on VH1 by mistake. Oh no, there's the square head of Landon. The kids stand in front of the man who has seen a million faces and rocked them all while someone voice-overs that they've been given the job of building a playground for a bunch of kids at the Northern Home. IKEA drops the playground off in a million pieces. If my kid lived in Philly, there is no fucking way I'm letting him monkey-swing across anything these incompetent fucks built, hung-over and grumpy. Sarah talks to MJ, and camera-talks that her body issues started when she found out her mother had cancer. I'm not going to touch that one with a ten-foot Karamo.

Credits. Floaty swivel-cam heads. Hip digital pixilated backdrop. Cool computer sounds. Man, everything for the kids! No wonder MTV is forever on the cutting edge. If only MTV could somehow provide me with awesome downloadable ringtones...What?! No way! Thanks, MTV! You're my one-stop CoolZone! Boy, my friends will be jealous when my Nokia plays Maroon 5 every time my boo blows up my celly. Jealous bitches.

Shots of Philly. Shots of Philly. Shots of...Chili's?! The kids go to eat at MTV sponsor Chili's, totally on their own, without any prompting. In a montage of crass commercialism the likes of which I haven't seen since...well, the last MTV show I watched, they pipe in voice-overs of the various kids saying shit like, "Let's get some buffalo wings!" and "Mmm. Those look soooooo good!" while they happily peruse the Chili's menu. If only my life were so colorful and full of not only good friends but delicious and fun foodstuffs! Sarah voice-overs and her floaty head camera-talks that she's had "issues with eating" since she was a kid and everyone does and don't worry about me I'm fine! Everyone eats, and we get shots of grease and milkshakes and people urge Sarah to eat but she smiles, loving every minute of her tremendous willpower, as she voice-overs that her roommates can eat everything they want but she can't. "Your mom!" she retorts to someone who bugs her about food, and she squirms and says she's gained "five hundred pounds." You know, that's not funny to those who actually have gained five hundred pounds this year. Way to be sensitive. I'm calling the FCC, Jesus-hater!

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