Okay, so I know I’m supposed to post more about my 3 week trip to Colorado, kids in tow, but I have to digress. Something much more crucial came up Actually, it’s kind of scary. Terrifying, even

You see, I just found out I know a SECOND person starring in a TV reality show.

But let’s back up. Several years ago, I was sitting in our old house, minding my own business, exercising my thumbs with a little channel-surfing. For whatever reason, I started watching some horrible show debut called “For Love or Money” For those of you who (rightfully) shun all types of reality dating TV and aren’t in the know, it was basically a rip-off of the Bachelor, only cheesier (if that’s even possible). As I’m getting ready to flip the channel for something a little more intellectual, like, say, Sesame Street, I notice that the main star looks familiar. Really familiar.? I note his? name is Rob. And he’s a lawyer. As I try to put these facts together in my then-pregnant and therefore rapidly deteriorating brain cells, it hits me.

Of course, I think I must be crazy, so I google who I think it is, and sure enough, it’s him. Rob Campos. JAG drop-out, female groper, and, as my friend Lindsay and I knew him, step aerobics dude extraordinaire. Even after verifying the facts, I found it hard to fathom. The seemingly sophisticated? man on TV was the same? gangly guy? who used to bop around at SMU? step class several times a week? Of course, later in the show, he got a little drunk and obnoxious, which I remember as being more in character. And in case anyone is interested—no, there was no groping involved in our (platonic) relationship.? To be fair, he seemed like a nice guy.? Albeit a little goofy (I mean, let’s face it–how many cool guys did you know in college that went to step aerobics class?)

At any rate, that brings us to the second reality show star. I just opened an email from my aunt, with a link to the “Celebrity Circus” website. Apparently, it’s some new show on NBC where famous people train and perform various circus routinues? Yes, the premise is lamer than lame–in fact, it ranks right up there with that pet grooming competition show on? Bravo? (Hey, I love dogs too, but even I can’t think of? anything less exciting than watching? a pet getting it’s weekly hair-cut.? If that’s considered entertainment, then maybe I can get a gig on a reality show seeing who can Dremel the most Ridgeback toenails without? being growled at, kicked, head-butted, or, as once happened to my aunt, getting the Dremel bit caught in your hair and whipping out a chunk of scalp.)

But back to Celebrity Circus.? I click on Clip 8, as instructed by my aunt, and there she is—Janet Evans. I couldn’t believe it.? I used to swim with that girl for about five years when I was a teen. My sister used to coach her.? And? the clip was? very disturbing.

No, not because? little Janet Evans? was dangling from a trapeze, looking like she was going to bite it at any moment, in a next-to-nothing purple spandex outfit. Rather, because the woman didn’t have an ounce of cellulite. Tell me, after all this time, how is that possibly fair? And those six-pack abs? It’s just wrong. My own six-pack morphed into a two-pack long, long ago, and the other four have never been heard from again.

So, seriously, though—what are the chances that I know two reality show stars? Is that normal these days? Are reality shows really so pervasive that it’s like six degrees of Survivor, or American Idol, or Joe Millionaire?? If so, how many reality show “stars” do you know?

? And what I really want to know is—-who’s going to show up next??

All right, ‘fess up—who watched American Idol last night?? I know, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit—I mean, you may as well have “I’m a reality TV junkie” stamped on your head to listen for two consecutive hours to some of the most acoustically-challenged folks on the planet.? ?

And yet that’s exactly what I did.? I’d like to blame it on the flu, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t explain away the previous few years of Idol debauchery occurring at my home.

What is it about Idol that is so darn addicting?? Is it that cute as a button Ryan Seacrest (I think not—I like my men to look like men)?? The subversive anticipation of seeing if Simon can outdo even himself with his lack of human kindness (although you have to admit, he’s right on the mark most of the time)?? Or are we all just watching to see if Paula? gets hopped up? on? the happy pills again?

Whatever the reason, it’s obvious that American Idol, in all of its manifestations, is completely and repulsively addictive.

Now, on to the good stuff.? Did you see the guy who collected his fingernail clippings in a ziploc bag?? And how did you react—with repulsion, disgust, horror, or something to that effect??

Not me.? I bet I was one of a select few, out of millions of viewers, thinking, “Wow, what a great way to store your finger and toenail particles,? instead of? leaving them in every corner of the house to decay and then jump out and surprise you? at the most inconvenient of moments.”? Like when your in-laws are visiting and you open the pull-out, only to find the toenails of days gone by, up front and center.?

Okay, I concede—I was undoubtedly the only one thinking that.?

At any rate, welcome to the? non-fingernail-free? zone that we like to refer to as home.? Wanna come visit and watch some Idol?? I promise, we don’t have to open the couch.