Here’s what happened when I quit watching reality TV for a year

LOL, no. This didn’t happen. I fucking refuse.
What were you expecting? That I ‘found myself’? Absolutely not! I don’t want to know who that crazy bitch is. Instead, I am happy to be controlled by the algorithm gods.
Do you really think I could’ve mustered up enough self-control to not watch Andy boy grill hot, plastic women from different parts of this great nation? Or discover the real reason why Karen moved her ass (and none of her belongings) to Great Fucking Falls, Virginia? Or see if Captain Lee finally sticks it to dickwad Kevin, while Kate gleefully snickers in the background? No, definitely not. I am a garbage human.
And guess what, hon? I refuse to change.
Why? Because everyday I march my ass to work like I’m some kind of robot bitch on auto pilot. I honk my horn once, twice, three times at every lady (or man or anyone) that gets in my way. I force a smile at asinine requests coming at me from the what have you and wherefore day in and day out.
Then I workout because I hate myself. After that, I come home and try to not open up a bag of chips. But there I find myself… licking my dumb cheese puff fingers feeling like a negative one million bucks.
And then I put on Bravo. And it’s the first sense of calm I feel all day long.
So will I ever quit watching reality television? No. I will be a geriatric at the nursing home consuming ‘til the day I die. Judge me or join me, idc.
