Oh, Great. A New Season Of The Bachelor.

Obviously, I'm going to watch, because I can't resist, and by the end of the season, I'll be so up-to-here with the bullshit theater that is televised dating game shows that I'll become angry with myself. And so it goes.

I freely admit that I watch some shitty, shitty television, and if it weren't for my sense of shame, I'd probably watch a lot more of it. I can't get enough of The Bachelor, which combines the most terrible aspects of dating, the weirdest aspects of arranged marriages, and sociopaths. If another season of Bachelor Pad ever airs, I will schedule my life around it like how I'd schedule my life around a doctor's appointment. It's confusing and frustrating and a little embarrassing, but I guess now's as good a time as any to admit to the world that I'm addicted to that steaming pile of crap.

So anyway, there's a new season of The Bachelor that starts tomorrow night, and by gum, I'll be there on my couch making fun of the contestants' nonspecific use of the words this, that, these, and those (as in "I'm looking for THAT connection." or "We just have THIS chemistry." What chemistry, contestants!? You are verbally pointing at nothing!) and their ridiculous hair extensions and their Barbie-meets-David's Bridal wardrobes. I'll remark to anyone and everyone that the man who is cast as The Bachelor makes me more wary of men, as he gives these Sincere Eyes to his date and five minutes later makes out with another of the cookie cutter white ladies in the parade of white and Asian ladies that the show puts in front of him. I'll pick out a favorite and make jokes about the show's host and drink white wine and marvel at the fact that if I were to go on the show now, at 27, I'd be among the older contestants and perhaps the bitchiest contestant of all time. I'll recoil at the Spit Sounds that the ABC microphones are so adept at picking up and amplifying. And I'll keep watching. My god. What has become of me?

Commenters, I know I'm not the only one who is completely addicted to brain-rotting television. What's your embarrassing entertainment obsession? Spill. I need you to, so that I feel better about myself.

Image via AP