I can’t stand it when I have to listen to someone announce how little television she watches, as this piece of information is usually delivered with a tone of voice and shrug of the shoulders that seem to say, “Why, someone as busy and important as I couldn’t possibly be bothered with something so pedestrian as television. Pish posh!” But despite my best efforts, I fear I may be turning into that very same person. Don’t get me wrong — I am most certainly not too busy or important. Rather, I’m just terribly occupied with keeping up on my celebrity gossip and the hordes of Family Guy episodes I downloaded off LimeWire.

Specifically, it’s reality television that has caused most of my burnout. Despite the premonition of disaster I felt when Survivor hit the airwaves seven years ago, I feel like I gave the genre a fair run. After all, I watched the entire third season of The Apprentice and have been a devoted American Idol follower since the fourth season (I was a Bo Bice fan, myself). And naturally, like any good gay man, I’ve had a torrid love affair with the gold and frankincense of the Bravo reality show lineup: Project Runway and Top Chef.

Regarding the latter, I think that’s where my relationship with reality programming began to crack and split. I caught enough of the first season to cultivate a nice, healthy hatred of Tiffani, and thus looked forward to the new crop of contestants with great anticipation. Unfortunately, the second time around was all controversy and no substance; the storyline was so manipulated by the editing I couldn’t even deign to stick around for the final episodes. And of course, my disgust with the show was validated completely by the ridiculous elimination of Sam and Elia in the first part of the finale. Or so I heard. I wouldn’t know. I didn’t watch it.

But my patience didn’t snap completely until this latest crop of losers on American Idol. Honestly, does anyone out there give a rat crap about any of those contestants besides Lakisha and Melinda, and maybe even Blake on occasion? By this past week it had gotten so bad I was fast-forwarding through everything save for the performances and Simon’s comments, and even then only for the aforementioned three. What a waste of my time. So with that, I bid farewell to two-and-a-half seasons of faithful viewing. It’s been swell.

Of course, I suppose if I get the hankering for a healthy spoonful of Lakisha in the forthcoming weeks, I can always catch the detailed recaps Rickey provides so faithfully every week. Before she’s eliminated in a surprise turn of events, that is. Just wait for it.

Here’s to hoping the next season of Runway doesn’t follow suit and completely jump the shark. Until it airs, my memories of Laura must be enough to sustain me. OK, and maybe Medium, The Office, and Taboo. But that’s it — I’m far too busy and important to be bothered with such trifles, you see.

Oh, and Boston Legal.

Filed by Trevor at 12:25 am under Pop Culture