Perpetrating a Fraud…

National Blog Posting Month is here. I am going to participate  and attempt to post every day for the month of July. What Fun. Ha! My random thoughts everyday for a month. This is going to get interesting. Well let’s get cracking and I mean literally because I am flexing my intertwined fingers out in front of me now. What will I talk about today?

Ah! I know…

I am so late on this, but I have to speak on it anyway. Plus, I am late for obvious reasons the death of the King has me unconcerned about reality tv stars. However, while watching Chelsea Lately and dozing off to sleep, I saw a commercial for E! News. The commercial promised pictures of Kendra’s wedding at the Playboy Mansion. WTH?!?!?

I woke up and pulled the spectacles from my bedside dressing table onto my nose. I was certain I had heard the wrong thing. Chelsea comes back on and I am hoping that she is about to shake hands with the audience so we can get to the news. This is the first time that I’ve ever wished I had internet access in my room. Why am I concerned about Kendra? Of all the causes to support, problems to resolve and subjects to research why would I pick one so shallow, misguided and without any redeeming value? Because I have a strange fascination with the Girls Next Door and their cohabitation experiment. It was the first reality show that I made sure I was home to watch. I was actually sad when it went off since all the ladies left the house to go explore the wider world. The story was as advertised, Kendra was indeed married at the playboy mansion and the proof was in the pictures. I know Kendra is all parties and booty shake, but even she had to know you don’t get married at your Ex’s house. I mean doesn’t she know this? Shame on Mama Kendra if she did not.   

The pictures left me with two thoughts…

First Thought…

Is Kendra Crazy? What kind of woman gets married at her Ex’s house where God only knows what happened and they cohabitated? And what kind of man stands for it? Even if Kendra had a wonderful relationship with Hugh and the break up wasn’t bad it is still not appropriate to marry your NEW man at your OLD man’s house. I don’t care how much you care about him it’s disrespectful to your NEW man. There should be a clear divider between relationships and conducting your nuptials at your Ex’s place certainly blurs the lines. Closure is not saying I do on OLD man’s lawn. Hmmm….always thought Kendra’s airy-ness was merely exaggerated to portray her as a carefree, young spirit, but maybe she is a little off.

The second thought…

Wait! Ohhhh NoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo! It can’t be true, but it has to be? The Girl’s next door was a SHAM! Oh the tragedy of it. I put my hand to my forehead and fainted into my fluffy pillows. I was outraged! I was deceived, hood-winked, duped, 52 faked out, bamboozled and swindled out of my precious time. The playboy mansion was merely an apartment building for blondes. Holly claiming that Hugh didn’t need viagra cause she snuck up on him a few times just fabrications to prop up his swinger lifestyle. It was a marketing ploy to make Playboy relevant again and accessible to younger generations. A cheap, simple, savvy way to revitalize the brand. No wonder those ladies didn’t have any cat fights (I witnessed a few side glances), they were NOT sharing a man. They merely shared the same residence. I was convinced of this last night lying in my bed. I suspected it, but Kendra’s playboy mansion wedding pictures made it perfectly clear that their show was a fraud. I spent Sundays watching this scripted, fictitious, soap-opera farce passed off as a reality show. I will admit I was entertained, but reality tv does not require willing suspension of disbelief of it’s viewers because it’s supposed to be real. I mean I know there is “light” scripting and some editing, but the whole premise of the show was not real. The audacity of them all. I was merely a pawn in their ploy to gain tv ratings and publicity. Fooled me once, but it’s shame on you Hugh. What I was watching was a sham and you know it! I want an apology and some sort of consolation prize for playing along.

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