So last night I was working out in the hotel gym. I’m watching some cable channel, and in the corner it reads: DONNIE LOVES JENNY STARTS IN 2 MINUTES!
Well, OK.
For the 90 percent who might not know, Donnie is Donnie Walberg, longtime New Kids on the Block member and the brother of Mark Wahlberg. Jenny is Jenny McCarthy, View co-host and noted, well, person of, eh, fame and stuff.
Anyhow, I started watching the show. Because, hmm … it’s just sorta the thing I do. I’m an enormous sucker for What Ever Happened To programs (ask my wife how into the Surreal Life I once was). I’m also, secretly, a sucker for the New Kids. Which is weird, because their music has never been more than air filler. But they came up when I was a camp counselor, and I vividly recall the little kids singing “The Right Stuff” and “Step by Step.” I root for rebounds and rediscoveries and fights to stay relevant. The members are also my age. Which means, if they stay afloat, I too stay afloat. Or something along those lines.
I’m babbling.
I started watching Donnie Loves Jenny. And it was bad. Bad in a truly brutal, cliched, dime-a-dozen reality show nonsense kind of way. Donnie sitting with his mom, talking marriage. Jenny and her dress. Cute shots of the couple kissing. Smoochie, smoochie, smoochie. Keep in mind, both Donnie and Jenny are on their second marriages. In the real, non-reality TV world, this means small wedding, no big deal, maybe a few friends, the kids, etc.
In Celebrity Land, however, ego reigns. It’s all about the Tao of Me. My Day. My Ego. Let’s have a wedding and do it on TV and have thousands of people Tweet about it.
Me.
Me.
Me.
Then, when we’re divorced two years from now, we can watch the re-runs …
