faking it
Heather Havrilesky, writing on
Salon today, has
spoken to my soul. Unlike Heather, I can profess no real reality TV obsession, unless you're going to talk about
Dirty Jobs, which isn't even so much an obsession with
Dirty Jobs as it is unrequited love for
Mike Rowe, so I'll admit that I'll likely never watch
Denise Richards: It's Complicated and I'm certainly not going to pay for premium cable to watch
Secret Diary of a Call Girl, both of which she liked well enough for fluff. This, however, isn't really about that. It's about how Heather, not even knowing me, has realized the deep extent of my
intellectual whoredom, and has told me that I am not alone.
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