leave me alone, I'm reading

I have a confession to make. Don't tell anyone, though; it's pretty embarrassing.

I love the reality show The Bachelor.

I love it best when I queue up the entire previous season and do a weekend-long marathon. That's bad, right?

Now I'll tell you something even worse:
In almost every show, the producers find something, anything, to make a melodramatic moment. Every show has one of the would-be girlfriends staring into the camera with tear-laden eyes, the tears quivering just at the edge of her lower lashes, while she confesses...well, anything. Sometimes the confessions are so contrived that the producers have the poor girls whimpering over failing a test, missing her friend, and sometimes, real tragedies, like dead parents.

And then they'll make these girls talk about these melodramatic pseudo-tragedies over and over and over again, show after show.

And I can't help laughing.

These moments are so fake, so staged, so obviously meant to pull my heart-strings that my only reaction is to laugh. It gets to a point with this show that even truly sad stories, like the dead parents, make me laugh. It's just so manipulative.

That's what this book is like.

Some of it was cool. I liked the young falling in love story. I liked the heroine's obsession of a particular book. It was good, I enjoyed this book.

But, yeah. I spent a lot of time laughing at all the wrong moments. I can't help it. I guess you just can't take me anywhere ;)