TV or Not TV

Keeping up with “The Bad Girls Club”

The creative forces behind MTV’s “The Real World” also created a series entitled “The Bad Girls Club,” which appears to be exactly like “The Real World” except it doesn’t feature any dudes. Since I have my underarm on the pulse of the nation, I had no clue this series has already been on the air for four seasons, but seeing the fifth season premiere as a free download at the iTunes Store, I came up with an experiment. It is a social experiment of sorts, or perhaps an antisocial one (depending on your point of view). I posed the question: Exactly how many active braincells need to be neutralized in order for this series to be entertaining?

If I may inject a personal thought into all of this: I am waiting for word on a potential job and growing increasingly more impatient (or less patient, depending on whether you’re an optimist or a pessimist). They should have gotten back to me today but we are now well past business hours, and I know that if I do not engage in above average levels of consumption of adult, liquid refreshment, there is no way I will get any sleep this evening. In other words, this experiment doubles as a viewing exercise and a much needed distraction.

My chosen means of eliminating active braincells is a dark, frothy beverage from Ireland which shall go unnamed because they didn’t sponsor this endeavor so why should they get the free publicity? I took the liberty of consuming one prior to sitting down to watch the show because — despite my never having seen an episode — I get the feeling sobriety will not do the series any favors.

As I cue up the start of the episode, I crack open round two of my liquid lunch. I immediately had to pound it because of all the high pitched screaming of the 20-something self-proclaimed bitches that materialized on the screen. No kidding. One girl saw another girl = high pitched screams. Three girls saw a boat = high pitched screams. Two girls saw a house = high pitched screams. All seven girls saw shiny objects = high pitched screams.

As near as I could tell, the old “Real World” method of at least putting on a pretense of casting sane, lucid, sober people has been tossed out the window. The last of the girls introduced before the first commercial break, a Paris Hilton wannabe, looked into the camera and stated the reason she was appearing on the show was to prove something to her parents. But she wasn’t trying to prove to her parents that she was smart or talented — nothing like that. Instead, she wanted to prove that she was not the only girl who gets drunk, has wild sex, and passes out. Who says today’s youth doesn’t have goals?

After the first commercial-less break, the girls went clubbing. Well, two of them stayed behind to bitch to themselves. At the club, the Paris wannabe proved she could be a bigger skank than anyone else in the club. It was unclear if the group was asked to leave or if the other four girls chose to leave because of her. They returned to their beachfront mansion and proceeded to lay into the Paris wannabe while she bounced around in the pool topless (and pixelated). Aside from the Paris wannabe, the other six girls have thus far failed to distinguish themselves in any way. Sure, one is covered in tattoos, another one is an out lesbian, and there are some ethnic minorities represented. But they all act the same, they all squeal like pigs, and they all think they’re the hottest women on the planet. While they aren’t ugly, I see more attractive women riding the bus here in San Diego.

The next segment featured the first appearance of men in the house of the Bad Girls. These were alpha males — big, ignorant slobs who are exactly the type of guys who end up with these types of girls. The guys were invited by one of the girls, Morgan, and whereas the previous day was taken up with the other girls dishing on the Paris wannabe, the night with the guys was consumed by trash talking Morgan. The segment ended with a few of the girls heading out to some club or bar or wherever. My liquid intake has been incredibly high, even more than when I was in Vegas last week, but it has not been high enough to quash the requisite amount of braincells needed to make this a pleasurable experience. I freely concede the girls have breasts and hair and legs and all the components that make up an attractive women, but none of these Bad Girls appeal to me in any way, shape, or form. Clearly, more liquidized barley and hops are needed.

Things went from dumb to dumber as Morgan, the Paris wannabe, and one of the other generic Bad Girls left to party, leaving four other generic Bad Girls to assume to stereotypical role of catty women. After no soul searching (as clearly these girls lack the necessary ingredient), it was decided by the four other generic Bad Girls that Morgan had to go, so they packed her crap, put it on the curb, and did their best to secure the doors. Less than four minutes remain to the episode and yet I feel that if I had only one active braincell, it would be too much to actually enjoy the concluding segment.

Not entirely shockingly, the episode ended with a catfight/cliffhanger. Will Morgan be evicted from the house? Will the generic Bad Girls display actual personalities? Who cares? Maybe this is tolerable with a frontal lobotomy, but I doubt it. Hopefully, the libation will serve its other purpose and allow me to catch a few dozen winks — 40 winks seems too ambitious a goal.

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