Guilty Pleasures

I'm not normally one for 'Reality TV'. Actually, I'm not normally one for any TV. I rarely watch it, unless it's something like the VMA's, 'old school' Two & A Half Men, The Simpsons, or Family Guy. And generally, if I do watch TV, I'll hover in the doorway, then flit back to my computer in the ad breaks. I don't even sit in the bloody lounge room.

However... lately I find myself drawn to a particular show, and I can't seem to discourage myself from watching it. I don't know if it's the accents - considering I have a hard time understanding them, if it's the lack of shirts on the blokes, or if, perhaps, it's the pointless drinking and partying they do that's hooked me; but for some inexplicable reason, I've formed a rather affable relationship with Geordie Shore.

It's my new guilty pleasure. I love it. Can't get enough of it, in fact. When the weekly episode is over, I feel... empty. One hour is simply not enough! AND, wait for it... I sit down ON the couch, for the ENTIRE hour, simply to avert missing two seconds of it.

Yep. I'm a goner.


Here's a little clip featuring Vicky And Sophie, explaining the art of the 'Slut Drop'