Considering I don’t find the same entertainment value in the show as my wife does, we don’t exactly microwave a bag of extra-butter popcorn and get cuddly on the couch every time it’s on the boob tube. As a matter of fact, whenever my wife sits down to catch an episode, I tend to avoid the living room the way a fat kid avoids exercise. Unfortunately, though, if she happens to be watching while I’m making dinner, I can still hear the show, which, as far as I’m concerned, may be just as miserable as being able to see it at the same time.
Yet the point behind me telling you all this is that I don’t find this particular program, Bridezillas, obnoxious simply because the brides-to-be who are cast are overly abrasive, intolerable, and insufferable. Rather, the show bothers me on a much deeper level and I guess what I’m trying to say is, somehow, Bridezillas manages to disrupt the natural order of the universe as we all have come to know it.
Let me explain (as usual).
It’s generally accepted that the more attractive the partner, the more the other partner is willing to suffer by way of treatment.
For example, if I were to ever find myself single again and somehow I magically found myself in a relationship with Jessica Biel, I have to imagine the amount of potential bullshit I’d be willing to put up with would be pretty frigging high. Why? Because Jessica Biel may qualify as one of the hottest women on the face of the earth (apart from my wife, of course) and when your girlfriend/fiancée/wife is that hot, any man in the world would just about say yes to anything she wanted. As long as Jessica came home at some point--middle of the night, next week, whatever--I think I’d be okay with whatever she wanted to do. Even if that “whatever” meant posing nude for Hustler magazine or sleeping around with business associates or throwing incessant, Turret’s-like temper tantrums every time I put four cubes of ice in her Diet Coke rather than the requested three cubes, as long as I got mine, I’d be just fine with any kind of behavior she tossed my way.
Flip side of the coin. I somehow magically (and unfortunately) find myself in a relationship with a woman who looks a hell of a lot like Jabba the Hut and has the personality of Simon Cowell, just how much B.S. do you think I’d be willing to stand? Essentially, if I ever heard anything that even remotely sounded like attitude coming out of her pie hole, I’d dump her faster than Dennis Rodman dumped Carmen Electra. (You didn’t think I keep up on this stuff, did you? To be honest, I don’t. I actually just looked that up online. Remember when Carmen was married to Rodman? Christ, what a freak show.)
So all that brings me back to Bridezilla. Given the universally-accepted laws of the universe that I’ve outlined above, how the hell does a hag like this even have a ring on her goddam finger?
This one’s even worse:
Again, I can’t help but find the show absolutely mind-boggling. How these girls have managed to not just snag a man without the help of a serious tranquilizer rifle, but have talked their partners into letting them act like nothing short of whopping [insert C-word here] on national television, is a mystery that ranks right up there with the Bermuda Triangle and the fact that Britney Spear’s still has a career.
And you know what’s even worse? Well, I’ll tell you. Flip the coin again. Imagine there’s a show titled Groomzillas. How long do you think it would be until our friends in the mainstream media (think Keith Olbermann, that whiney, candy-assed be-atch who also still has a career somehow) quickly labeled it misogynistic and likened the producers to wartime Nazis?
I don’t know. I’m just sayin’ . . .
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