Early last year, I wrote a column bemoaning the lackluster antics of the current "Real World" cast, and you agreed almost unanimously. "Battle of the Sexes" debauchery aside, it's been an off year for MTV-former king of reality television. With "The Real World" in shambles and "Road Rules" on its deathbed, where does one turn for lurid thrills? VH1, that's where. Say goodbye to keepin' it "Real" and hello to celebreality.
With a concept so simple, it's amazing no one thought of it before. The Everymen and women of typical reality shows occasionally flip out on-camera for ratings gold, but for every Omarosa, Puck or Richard there are countless contestants who are just like you and I-boring. Fortunately that's why God made celebrities.
Take the new season of "The Surreal Life," for example. Initially, I was less than impressed with the cast. Lacking the incomparable Flava Flav-and his signature Viking helm-or the leathery Brigitte Nielsen-and her signature sagging breasts-I feared that the show had reached its zenith last year. I'm proud to say I was wrong.
In one episode, "The Surreal Life" lived up to its title and became my must-see viewing event of the spring. Seven people, picked to live together in a house…it sounds familiar, but these folks are anything but strangers. They're famous, and more than a few are mentally unstable, as witnessed when former WWE she-beast Chyna wrestled with Mini Me for possession of his pint-sized living quarters.
Although he lacks Flava Flav's animal magnetism with the ladies, Mini Me could be this season's breakout (or is it burnout?) star. Not since the heyday of Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf on "The Howard Stern Show" has a person of small stature consumed large quantities of alcohol with such reckless aplomb. Perhaps the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" crowd may not find it amusing, but I laughed myself into a dizzy stupor when the loaded little fella rode his scooter-naked-into the house's gym and promptly peed on the floor. That, ladies and gentlemen, is quality television.
If you find the domestic setting of "The Surreal Life" too sugary for your viewing needs, VH1 also offers a far more degrading alternative, "Celebrity Fit Club." The show features a rogue's gallery of Hollywood hogs and forces them to lose weight for, uh, some reason or other. Stars include a Baldwin who isn't Alec, a token tubby Italian dude from "The Sopranos," the Snapple Lady (who, the show reveals, once preferred her beverage spiked with a healthy dose of booze) and Mia Tyler-Liv's slob sister.
Believe it or not, "Celebrity Fit Club" is educational. I had no idea an oxymoronic concept such as the "plus-size model" actually existed, but it does, and Mia Tyler makes a ton of money for weighing nearly as much. Mia can't account for her mysterious weight gain, and while I'm no dietician, if I ever weighed more than my rock-star father and sultry sibling combined then it would be treadmill time.
Rounding out the cast, literally, is comedian Ralphie May. Through Ralphie, I learned that there actually are women who will date men for their personalities…and ignore it if his bust size quadruples hers.
The violence potential for "Celebrity Fit Club" is astronomical. These poor porkers have to forsake their comfort foods, booze and cigs while working out-a lot. Even the Dalai Lama would be irritable under such harsh conditions, and as any reader of The National Enquirer knows, Baldwins are far more rancorous than His Holiness.
You can keep your "seven strangers." I'll gladly welcome seven old friends into my living room once again-and laugh at them when they pee on the floor.
