Postponing "Megan Wants a Millionaire"

I'll admit it. I'm a VH1 reality TV junky. I've watched all three seasons of "Rock of Love," the last two seasons of "Charm School," "I Love Money" and most of "I Love Money 2." I've seen bits and pieces of "Daisy of Love," "Real Chance of Love," "Tool Academy," and, well, you get the point.

I like them because they're mindless enough that I don't have to concentrate, but engaging enough that I can place high-stakes bets with my fellow shamed VH1 addict, who shall remain nameless (achem Jeff) on who's going to be dismissed tonight, who's going to punch who tonight, and who's going to take their top off first.

My VH1 obsession was exactly how I became acquainted with VH1 vixen Megan Hauserman. She made her reality TV debut on "Beauty and the Geek" and her first VH1 appearance on the second season of "Rock of Love." Since then she's starred in "I Love Money" and the second season of "Charm School."

Almost always bikini-clad Megan is a super bitch. She's manipulative, selfish and shallow. But she is ridiculously smart. She knows how to convince people to do things, and she gets her way almost every time. On "I Love Money," she controlled almost all of the eliminations.

A couple weeks ago, "Megan Wants a Millionaire" aired on VH1, where a group of sleazy millionaire's competed for Megan's heart. Recently, the show has been postponed and pulled from VH1's Web site due to contestant Ryan Alexander Jenkins being wanted for murder. He later starred in "I Love Money 3," which has not yet been aired.

Though the murder of Jenkins's ex-wife was tragic, I'm glad "Megan Wants a Millionaire" is no longer on air. As someone who's enjoyed watching Megan's antics and celebrating the unprecedented intelligence of a VH1 reality TV contestant, I hated watching her do nothing except being doted on and fought over. I missed the play-dirty Megan.

How can I be a fan of such a despicable human being? It's reality TV, where you don't get famous for being a good person, and you definitely don't watch it for its moral fiber. So lay off.

Even though "Megan Wants a Millionaire" is officially off the air, for now at least, I still made one more bet with Jeff. He bet CNN would pick up the story. I thought no one would care that much. Guess who won?

Actors from grown up shows who cameo on Sesame Street

Again, this doesn't have much to do with my theme, but I thought I'd point it out anyway. I recently discovered, via IMDB stalking, that two characters from two of my favorite shows guest starred on Sesame Street.

Will Arnett, who plays Gob, a failing magician, on "Arrested Development" guest starred as, well, a crappy magician on Sesame Street. No "Final Countdown" but still worth looking at.

And for comparison:

Amy Sedaris from "Strangers with Candy" guest stars as Snow White. Although very different characters, she brings her same comedic style from "Strangers" to the part.

And for comparison:

Missed Connections on Craigslist

There are few things more romantic than being admired from a distance. I'm not really sure why this is, but maybe it has to do with being idealized or the empowerment of obliviously going about your own business while someone can't sleep because they can't get that glowing image of you sauntering off humming "Oh what a beautiful morning."

Well, maybe not.

But in reality, a lot of secret admirers turn into stalkers and sweet talking strangers are just trying to sleep with you. That's why it's better to get your romantic fix vicariously, and there's no better place to do that than on Craigslist, where today's Missed Connections subject lines range from "Quaker Steak and Lube Car Cruise" to "I hate time, but I love fate" to the vengeful "I told you that you were the one- I meant it. I'm done."

You can hope that wrote one for you, that you're on someone's pedestal somewhere, and that maybe that hot blonde who showed the writer where the laminate cleaners are was, in fact, you. But for your own safety, keep your Craigslist activity to selling your moldy futon.

Being a bitch

No, I don't mean in the 8th grade girl way where you tell the girl with the frizzy hair who can do math better than you that no one will ever love her.

I mean in the "get stuff done" way (see Tina Fey below)

Last year I had the landlords from hell. For you Madisonians, don't ever live in the Saxony. Ever.

Our problems started on day one. I was recently interviewed by the Cap Times about getting in trouble for letting my boyfriend and his roommate move their stuff in for a few days between the end of their old lease and start of their new one. Management told me because of my breach of contract, I wasn't allowed to use the elevator to move them out. I lived on the 8th floor.

Cap Times writer Kim Ukura wrote this about my experience:

When apartment management found out about the plan, one manager accused Wiatrak of breaking her contract by having extra people moved in their apartment.

"I told her I didn't have them move in; I just had guests for a few days with lots of stuff," Wiatrak says.

My bitchiness didn't end there. I later went off on the same manager about holding my package from Amazon with my class books in it for two weeks without letting me know, and after winter break, I moved back in with my new guinea pig, Penelope, I had fallen in love with and adopted from my sister even though pets weren't allowed.

Eventually, I got caught with the guinea pig on the surveillance camera (I know, who watches those tapes anyway?). I was immediately served with a pompous letter written in pseudo-lawyer jargon telling me to get rid of the pig or be evicted.

So, I begged. I told her how much the pig meant to me, I offered her money and I cried. Her response? That she could make an exception but she won't because she doesn't like me.

In other words, because I was a bitch.

With two months left on my lease, my very, very generous friend offered to take care of her until I moved out. It broke my heart, but I got through it. My friend took amazing care of her, I snuck her into the building on the weekends when management wasn't there, and when I moved into my new place, Penelope moved back in with me.

When I moved out of the Saxony, I made sure there was not a trace of the pig anywhere in the apartment. But during my walk through, psycho management told me she would not refund any of my deposit because Penelope had once lived there even after admitting our place was impeccably clean.

Eventually she figured out this was illegal and sent me my deposit anyway.

Even though I lost my guinea pig for a couple of months, I'm glad I stood up for myself when I did. I'm glad that I was a bitch, that I didn't lie down and take it just because she said she was in charge, and that I wasn't so nervous I couldn't speak up.

She once said to me, "I don't know who you are or where you come from that you think the rules don't apply to you."

I ignored her and continued begging to keep my pig, but I think that was the defining moment in our relationship. I never said the rules don't apply to me, but I was raised to question the ones that are just plain bullshit.

People who don't believe that will never make a difference. They will walk this earth as nobody's until they die and nobody remembers them.

Even if no one remembers me, at least I'll know I tried. And if at least one person calls me a bitch, I'll know I got somewhere.

Cooking for one. . .or learning to cook together

I've lived with my boyfriend officially for three months, and unofficially for two years. By the time I moved out of the dorms into an apartment with a kitchen, Jeff and I were already serious and committed to eating together.

Meaning, I never had to cook for one. When he wasn't around for meals for whatever reason, I never found it worth my time to make a hearty meal just for myself and usually ended up with easy Mac or a concoction of whatever was in the fridge.

Not to mention I shared the kitchen with three other girls.

But since Jeff and I moved in together, sans roommates (except our beautiful guinea pig Penelope), we've made an effort to learn to cook real food for each other. We've made kugels, casseroles, gazpachos and more.

I've learned to put food in the oven without burning myself (he still has to take it out) and Jeff has learned that if he gets hungry at night and eats all of the soft tortillas while I'm sleeping, I get really, really mad.

But the point is, we've learned about cooking and food together. Sometimes he surprises me with cooking big meals while I lie on the couch watching TV, and sometimes I cook for him while he's reading to the guinea pig.

Jeff reading to the guinea pig (no, he's not a Republican)

I grew up afraid of the 50's housewife. I didn't want to become her so I rejected anything that was associated with her. As a teenager I refused to cook, clean or straighten my hair, and as a result, I kind of came out like a spoiled brat (except for the hair thing, I've since learned to tame my curls).

But there's nothing wrong with learning to take care of yourself. Now when Jeff's not around and I want a big meal, I make a big meal. For me.

And if you have a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/whatever, you're not going to become that subservient woman as long as the taking care of each other is mutual.

Thinking up creative ways for Michael Vick to die

What does this have to do with female pride? Not much, but I couldn't let this go without commenting. The class A douchebag spends a couple years in prison and then picks up his NFL career where he left off. Way to go Philadelphia. I know I'd want a heartless bastard representing my city, so good for you for snatching him up so quickly!

I could go on about the value of dogs in the lives of women, how no one will ever be as enthusiastic to see you come home, how they have this uncanny ability to know when to play, and when you just need a snuggle buddy to cry with after your most recent breakup, work stressor or Lifetime movie. How they love you unconditionally no matter how bad your breath is in the morning, or how many marathons of crappy VH1 reality shows they've caught you watching.

But the truth is, I come from a long line of animal lovers, and the men in my life have just as fulfilling relationships with their K-9 companions as women, and it wouldn't be fair to credit dog loving just to the female population.

Except, of course, for Michael Vick. Fucking waste of sperm and egg. It's people like him that make me wish I believed in hell. Dante should have a special circle for animal abusers. Coat them in gravy and dog biscuits and feed them to the dogs. Regurgitate, and repeat.

Pic of Lilah and me

The Holy Grail

My high school English teacher told our class that the reason men are always in search of the holy grail in literature is because women already have all the answers. When we read about Chretien de Troyes' Perceval, who was in search for the Holy Grail, but really in search of how to live life. He meets women along the way who give him insight into becoming a knight and becoming a man. But they always stay put and don't continue with Perceval on his adventures because there's nothing more that they need to learn.

The theme of women as all knowing prevails in Medieval lit, like Beatrice in "The Divine Comedy," and in tons of classic stories that stood the tests of time. Cinderella's fairy godmother, the old beggar who turns the prince into a beast in Beauty and the Beast and Sleeping Beauty's fairies. Pretty much all of Shakespeare's witches and soothsayers were female. Pinocchio's fairy godmother knew to build in a visible lie detector, and Peter Pan's Wendy was the only one with enough sense to grow up.

It works the other way too, with smart, evil women wreaking hell on their dumb, docile and naive princesses. Like the queen/sorceress in Snow White, or Ursula in the Little Mermaid.

But I think you see these women plenty today, just in a different form. Basically, today's holy grail women are able to tell men when they're being dumbasses, because they've missed the point all along.

Some of my favorite examples have been in the books I've read over the last couple of years. Like in the who-dun-it thriller "Into the Woods" by Tana French, where a detective, the male first-person protagonist struggles to solve the case, but realizes his female counterpart has known from the beginning. She was just smart enough to know he had to come to the conclusion on his own.

"The Answer is Always Yes" by Monica Ferrell chronicles the freshman year of college of Matt Acciaccatura, who, in his constant struggle to be cool, gets mixed up in the drug culture of New York's night clubs. While the night life sucks in his friends little by little, his good-girl girlfriend Sophie remains unseduced.

Finally, "The Secret History" by Donna Tartt brings to life a group of too-smart-for-their-own-good college students who, when things get out of hand, end up murdering one of their own. The group, which consists of five men (later four) and one woman, Camilla. The three men go along with the murder mainly because they are in fearful awe of their leader, Henry. But it is later revealed that Henry is in love with Camilla, and that she's been pulling her share of the strings all along. Although Henry remains the leader of the pack, Camilla has his heart, and therefore way more power than he probably intended to give.