Okay, so as I've admitted multiple times, I love to watch Vanderpump Rules. I am fascinated by the immense egos and complete lack of self-awareness by this entire group of people who consider themselves "besties." It terrifies me most when I recognize some of their behaviors and responses to conflict in some of the people I love most. They are a reflection of the worst of ourselves.
That being said, it's also about hoping that Jax really means what he says when he's done being an asshole. Until five minutes later when he picks a fight with a guy for doing the same exact thing he's done for decades. And then trusting ten minutes later after a healing session, banishing the evils of his soul. With the way the world is going, we need Vanderpump Rules to distract from the harsh realities of life.
Over the weekend, my boyfriend and I visited Washington DC. By Monday morning, however, I was knocked out. As someone who never sleeps, my head felt pulled by an invisible magnet hidden in my pillow. My boyfriend has a conference and instead of touring the town, I tore myself out of bed at 11:30 and forced myself to stay up, fearing I wouldn't sleep Monday night.
The hotel had Bravo. And you know what was on? A Vanderpump Rules marathon featuring episodes from the fourth season was scheduled for the day. While this was a few years ago and I had seen the episodes repeatedly since then, I don't think I've ever watched so many episodes back to back before.
I. Wanted. To. Vomit.
I think over the years, I fooled myself that the cast members were improving with age. They're not. In fact, I think they are worsening with age and botox.
And I'm at fault, I support their behavior which helps to fund their lifestyles.
With a pounding headache, I'd made it up until the new episode was to premiere. My boyfriend came back from his conference and promptly changed the channel. Too weak from my Vanderpump overdose, I was happy to swap The Witches of WeHo for some cheesy male comedy I can't even remember the name of because my mind has literally been turned to mush.
It's making me rethink the whole "guilty pleasure" thing. Do you have a guilty pleasure? Do you think it could potentially be toxic?
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