Some people are willing to do anything to get on television: admit they are drug addicts, hoarders or horrible mothers/wives/girlfriends who drink almost as much Chardonnay as they throw in their co-stars’ faces. And you know what? God bless them. If not for Go-Go juice and the future of diabetes paraded around for America to laugh and love and inwardly hate themselves for allowing this spectacle to go on, how else would we get our entertainment?

But you have to wonder where the line is for some of these desperate reality show types, who, after all, can only hope to become famous for being not-famous (i.e. for playing “themselves,” not-famous people, on television, where they will become famous and have to keep up the façade that they are still leading a normal life even if they were on Jimmy Kimmel the night before, since otherwise the whole illusion would be shattered and they would have to go back to being actually not famous, as opposed to constructed “reality” of non-famousness).

Which is all a long way of saying: how desperate do you have to be to go on a casting call whose main requirement is being too tired and/or busy to have sex? Read More