I love New York, but hate myself
First off, I'd like to thank Adam for saving this from being the fourth reality TV show post in a row on "Channel Surfing." (We don't need no stinkin' writers! Get back to drinking your Venti Pumpkin Spice Lattes and penning witty dialogue for mere pennies, peons!) Second, my wife watches "The Hills," so she has no business judging ANYONE's "to be recorded" selections.
Third, I can't really explain why "I Love New York 2" captivates me. The "2" should have been a solid indication that the producers would just recycle all the train-wreck material from last season and prop up new faces for the public's wretched consumption. And that's exactly what's happened, except they're piling decaying bodies from last season (Has anyone uttered the words, 'I miss that Mr. Boston guy' since Season One went off the air? Didn't think so.) onto this year's smoldering wreckage. That much is evident with smooth playa Chance - yes, I just wrote 'playa' - coming back next week to raise the ire or resident 'roid freak, Buddha.
Now, I know what you're saying. We don't watch this show, Tom. We have lives. Families. Dignity. So please, PLEASE, explain these ridiculous nicknames. Well, New York is actually Tiffany Pollard, who was runner-up on Flavor Flav's VH1 reality dating skank-o-rama a couple years ago, and she was so good at taking a wad of saliva in the kisser (Another contestant spat at her! Oh, yes she did!), they gave her a spin-off. So she's using the same "nickname" shtick as Flav, which means you have guys called Mr. Wise, The Entertainer and Tailor Made strutting around the house, referring to themselves by their newly-christened monikers, instead of, you know, Jeb or Winston. In fact, the producers of this show think we (OK, me, not you) are so stupid, Tailor Made, who apparently ordered an $850 piece of lingerie for New York on Monday's episode, referred to himself as "Tailor Made" while on the phone with a customer service rep. Er, I'm pretty sure that's not a legal name, bro. Check that Visa card again.
Anyway, I'm watching not to laugh, not to cry, not to feel, well, any emotion, for this show - which I'll simply describe as the Chicken McNugget of TV for its god-awful ingredients and lack of nutritional value. Instead, I'm convinced Tailor Made, a reality "star" if such a title exists, is a paid actor trying to hustle the rest of the contestants into making bigger fools out of themselves all for the sake of terrible TV.
-- Thomas Rozwadowski, email@example.com