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Dennis Hensley
As the owner
of his own bookstore in Union Hill, New Jersey, Joe Leo, 32,
spends his days in the company of time-honored storytellers
like Dickens, Faulkner and Hemmingway. His nights are another
story. “Monday’s Joe Millionaire,” he starts.
“Tuesday’s American Idol, Wednesday’s were
The Bachelorette and Celebrity Mole. Now we have Survivor
and Are You Hot on Thursdays…”
Meanwhile,
in a high rise in Hollywood, associate casting director Beth
Blanks, 27, is rifling through actors’ headshots and
opening up about her obsession with High School Reunion, The
Surreal Life and The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. “I
feel a little guilty because, in a way, these shows take away
from us being able to hire actors,” she admits, “but
I have to watch. I can’t miss it.”
Have to watch?
Can’t miss? You don’t have to be the groundskeeper
at Promises Malibu to see that this is the language of addiction.
“Addicted isn’t even the right word,” scoffs
Tony Tripoli, 33, a children’s gymnastics teacher from
North Hollywood, California who religious Survivor Tivo-er.
“Some days, that’s the only reason I get out of
bed.”
“I barely
leave the house anymore,” echoes comedian Kathy Griffin,
who recently spun her longtime reality obsession into gold
by walking off with the $233,000 grand prize on Celebrity
Mole Hawaii. “I’m up to 18 hours of TV a day but
hey, I can sleep when I’m dead. I’m a Celebrity
Get Me Out Of Here is only on now!”
While Kathy,
Tony, Beth and Joe’s preoccupations with such things
as rose ceremonies, tribal counsels and bushtucker trials
may strike some as frivolous and unhealthy, the good news
is that they’re not alone. Case in point: Approximately
42 million viewers—just shy of Oscar numbers--tuned
into the finale of Joe Millionaire to see Evan Marriott attempt
to have as much on-screen chemistry with Zora Andrich as he
did with the butler. Singer/actress Jackie Bayne, 26, who
is currently touring country in the musical Some Like It Hot,
watched with her fellow cast members. It was the culmination
of a standing group ritual. “Because we’re usually
on stage during prime time, someone tapes it in their hotel
room for later,” she explains. “It’s a huge
a priority when we’re travelling to a new city to get
to the hotel and get the VCR hooked up in time for Joe Millionaire
or American Idol. It’s so fun because you cannot believe
these people actually exist.”
Fun. This
is a word that comes up again and again when talking to reality
TV junkies. Still, there must be more to the reality rush
than having a laugh while watching Downtown Julie Brown get
dipped in a tank of blood-sucking leeches. “There really
is a certain level of human frailty to these shows that is
genderless and colorless and classless,” remarks Tripoli.
“We all do dumb, petty, cruel things in life, but we
also rise to the occasion sometimes, like when the Survivors
are rolling those giant balls down the hill and the smallest
girl is the one who saves the team. That’s pretty exciting,
man.”
“I like
the fishbowl aspect of it,” says Leo. “You throw
a bunch of people in together and see how they do. And knowing
that they actually exist in real life makes you think, ‘This
could be me. What would I do in that situation’?”
The short-term
commitment of most reality shows also seems to be a key selling
point. “I loved Joe Millionaire because I knew it was
only 7 episodes,” says David Todd, 33, a media manager
from Milwaukee, Wisconsin who is also heavy into American
Idol; witness the key ring. “I could record every episode
on one videotape.” And then there’s the delicious
sense of closure that comes with watching a big, suspenseful
reality show finale. “I’ll never forget the final
Bachelorette,” vows Tripoli. “It made me wish
I had a Jacuzzi because clearly everything good in life happens
either right before or right after a good Jacuzzi.”
But probably
the biggest allure, apart from being entertaining, is the
water-cooler factor. Reality TV watchers love to rap about
their shows almost as much as they love to watch them. “Everybody
I worked with watched Joe Millionaire so I felt like I had
to watch so I’d be able to discuss it,” says Raegan
Hatch, 23, a high school cafeteria cook from Holbrook, Arizona.
“The first time I watched, I put a note on my mirror
to remind myself but after that, I didn’t need the note.
I was hooked.”
And she’s
not afraid to say it, right out loud. If there’s one
quality that separates reality TV addicts from other types
of addicts is that they’re long on opinions—“Trista’s
baby talk totally got my nerves,” says Leo--and short
on shame. “Maybe I should feel a little dumb but these
shows are so fun,” says Blanks, “and because there
are so many good shows on now, I’m spending less money
going out, which is a good thing.”
“People
say, ‘You own a bookstore. How can you watch that garbage’?”
says Leo. “But they’ve said the same things about
soap operas for years. It’s not the only thing I do
in life, but it’s one of my favorite escapes.”
And it looks
like it will be for sometime. A new crop of shows, including
Married by America and The Family, are coming down the pike,
body mic-ed and ready to feed our junkies’ joins for
reality. “I can’t wait for The Front Line, about
the soldiers in Afghanistan,” gushes Griffin, “but
I hope they put a tent over the hot tub. We don’t want
that thing becoming an enemy hot spot.”
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