I watched "The Bachelor" last night. *Sigh*. I just love the opportunity to feel superior to people who would normally be socially way out of my league. Thin, gorgeous women who drink too much and behave in a socially embarrassing manner, and I can watch it happen without actually having to pledge a sorority myself.

For the past 2 seasons now, I've particularly enjoyed this show because I have a laptop, and I'm able to set it up in the living room, log on, and indulge in a veritable orgy of snark and superiority with other women, online. We create a conference room and type, type, type.

The current season of inappropriate behavior and bizarre interpersonal motivation ("I just want to find true love, like everybody else." On a reality show? Really? Why not get drunk in a bar and sleep with inappropriate men OFF-camera, if you really want to be like everybody else?) takes place in Rome. Which happens to be one of my favorite cities in the whole wide world. And the locale led to my favorite aphorism from last night's group snark: "Welcome to Rome! Do you speak Italian? No? Well, then, let me help. 'Fellatio' is Italian for ice cream! Would you like some ice cream?" Hee hee hee...

And I have to admit, I do just love the current Bachelor. He's cute but apparently wears someone else's nose so he's not perfect, and he's smart enough not to get drunk on-camera, at least so far (but one can hope). He reminds me of several guys I was friends with in high school but was never quite cool enough to date. My boyfriends were more of the tendency to cheat on me and, in one memorable instance, take a lighter to the back of my neck (not enough to actually do damage, just enough to singe some hair and speed my exit from the building) because I wasn't interested in, um, ice cream. Those were the days. And people wondered why, once I got a comparatively stable and non-threatening guy, I got married at 23.