OK, this is the night you find out what a lying sack of shit I really am. Because all those claims I've been making that I don't watch television? Complete nonsense. Because here I am live blogging a T.V. show. Again.
And of course, my husband has to chime in. "What? More television for the smug?" Well--yes. Yes, it is.
Let me tell you, this is serious motivation for my Weight Watchers regime. Because these people look like Weebles. Remember Weebles? "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down."
OK, they're on their first task. They're racing through the desert towards the two coaches. Whoever gets there first gets to be the head of one of the two teams.
(They're trying to make this look dramatic, but holy shit. These people CAN'T RUN.)
Oh, COOL. Phil, the 62-year-old, is one of the first two to reach the goal. Hey, you whipper-snappers? We old people ROCK.
Next comes Jerry, an ex-football player. Who weighs 403 pounds.
Now we find out that the two team captains get to pick the rest of their teammates. There will be a blue team and a red team. So it's time for some background about these people. The crying. The stories.
Now Phil and Jerry are picking their teams. The six who don't get picked will have to go home. Oooh, the tension!
(Are they picking the ABSOLUTE FATTEST people? Because they win by losing the highest percentage of weight. Would fatter people do better?)
Oh, the girl who came in dead last got picked. Now that's heartwarming. Am I tearing up? Um ... no.
OK, the teams are almost picked ... but we have to cut for a COMMERCIAL. Because don't forget, this is TELEVISION we're watching here.
I'm sorry, I just can't handle this amount of manufactured drama.
OK, back. Some of them are crying because they didn't make the cut.
But then! A new coach shows up. And guess what? It's Jillian. I guess if you weigh 400 pounds, Jillian is very famous. Famous for being an evil drill sergeant fitness queen glamazon. As one player puts it, "It's Jillian! She's a machine!"
Jillian tells them they're not really being sent home. Three teams will be competing, not two. They're the black team!
Shhhh, don't tell the red and blue teams.
Oh boy, now they're about to weigh in for the first time. And oh my lord, the MAN BOOBS.
But of course, it's time for another bunch of commercials.
Now they're working out. Picking up sacks of cement, flipping airplane tires around. In the hot desert sun.
More working out. Loading suitcases as heavy as the weight they want to lose onto jetliners and pulling them across the tarmac.
Reading their letters from home. Weeping. Sniff, sniff.
Oh great, one of them worked out so hard that she puked.
And now, more drama. The weigh ins! The weight loss! The man boobs!
Did you know it's possible to lose twenty-six pounds in a week?
I hate to say it, but this show is addictive.
I just hope it's not fattening.