Thankfully, there’s a remedy for times when I need to feel better about myself. The new season of “Celebrity Rehab.” Now I get to see the famous and infamous, the celebrated and successful, at their absolute worst. Few things make me feel better than seeing an overweight, drug-munching, out-of-work reality show runner-up vomiting in a toilet as they detox and are told they have to share a bathroom with the drummer from an ’80s heavy metal band.
If I just can’t relate to the plight of the beautiful people, I’ll switch to “Intervention” and witness average people battle their demons. Family and friends tearfully plead with a loved one to get help for their addiction, all for my viewing pleasure. But at the end of that show they always tell you how the person fared months later. The results are often positive. Too “feel-good-y” for me.
So I’ll flip to “Obsessed.” Watching hoarders justify keeping dozens of broken lamps, boxes of expired coupons, 15 years’ worth of Cat Fanciers Almanac and a cantaloupe rind from 1988 is just the ticket. I’ve got a five-year-old jar of orange marmalade in the fridge I’m feeling pretty good about right now.
“Biggest Loser” helps. But I get sidetracked wishing Jillian Michaels was a writing coach instead of a fitness instructor (“You call that syntax?! I’ll show you syntax! Drop and scribble me 20, you talentless maggot!”).
