Confessions of the Soul

It's shameless.

I actually watch The Bachelorette.

Veda and I hunker down every Monday night after the kids are in bed to debate over who DeAnna is going to select from her dwindling selection of guys.

It started two seasons ago ... we watched as Bachelor Brad methodically (per the script?) narrowed down the field to two ladies, including the current bride-to-be who he left at the alter before ever giving either one of them a chance. Many nights of moaning and groaning over bad acting and the absurdity of it all.

Then we slid through "London Calling" and the British bachelor. Ho-Hum.

And now we're rooting for the Georgia girl. And tonight, at least she dropped Graham. Sheesh ... he was as immature as it gets. Couldn't look her in the eye ... was he camera shy for kissing on screen? And what he came dressed in for the rose ceremony ... heck, let's just really throw the contest with our jeans, shirt untucked from a sweater and a jacket to dress it up. Good riddance. At least Twilly knew how to dress.

Of course, I step back from the show and ask myself, "Why? Why would I even bother blogging about something as mundane and moronic as a show about selecting your true mate from a field of 25?" Is it possible that God would arrange it to be so? I guess that Trista lady would say so.

The shamelessness will continue ... next Monday, same time, same channel. Arrgh, and we'll be at camp! Hello, DVR!

Lord have mercy.