The Rose Parade

This week, VH1 has decided to run a Bachelor/Bachelorette marathon. All week, hours upon hours of retro Bachelor. So, if you don't work, and you really dig broken engagements, your dream has come true.

On Tuesday I happened to catch a fair amount of the Trista re-runs (I swear I do work occasionally), including the Pepto Bismol infused wedding spectacle that was Ryan and Trista's nuptials. I had forgotten how ABC dragged this thing into what seemed like 80 hours of television, about all the hyperbole ("the most anticipated wedding since Charles and Diana!"..."the wedding of the decade!")...and how Trista's squeaky baby voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

It's all especially intriguing to me. In recent months, I've started to investigate the business side of this here blog and I learned how to track the way strangers arrive on my site. The #1 Google search that lands people on my blog? Trista's diet. Trista's diet that I mocked and ridiculed mind you, but this is apparently what the American pop culture public yearns for.

Now, lest I be a total hypocrite in my mockery, I admit a weakness for the Andrew Firestone season, which is on for a good chunk of the day/night Wednesday.

You can relive it with me (time to call in sick!), the innocent days when Jen Schefft captured that hottie Firestone's heart.

And, by the way, what was Jen thinking letting Andrew Firestone slip through her fingers? She could've been rich and drunk on a vineyard for the rest of her life! I'd travel to an island with Ricardo Montalban for that fantasy....