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I was at the gym today, running on the treadmill, and the TV directly in front of me was showing a new televised atrocity called "First Date" or "Date Time" or somesuch. Judging from what I saw they might as well call it "Single For A Reason"
It was showing on TLC, which I thought was supposed to be "the woman's network," but you'd never know it from the guy they had on the show today. He was to women what bovine spongiform encephalopathy is to cows. When he first met his date -- and I mean, like, the moment he met his date -- he pulls two of those whattayacallums, those plastic stick things that have the two balls attached to them, that you can kinda twirl to make the balls bounce off of each other? You know what I'm talkin' about? They're called "clackers" or something? Anyway, he pulls two of those out of his pocket and thrusts one at the woman and says "Here, take this and start clicking it!" with alarming alacrity, and then he starts twirling his own and the balls start clacking and he's urging her to do it too, "Come on, start clicking!," and after a few moments she remembers that the producers of "Date-aster!" (or whatever it's called) aren't paying her to stand around and look ossified, so she starts twirling her clacker and the balls start colliding, and after about twenty seconds of this the guy says "Great! Now we can say that we clicked at the very start of our date!"
The woman made a face like she had just swallowed a herring smoothie.
I, meanwhile, watching this train-wreck of an opening gambit while running in a crowded gym, could not prevent myself from loudly exclaiming "Oh my crap!" in horror.
Everyone turned to look at me, and, embarrassed that I had gotten caught watching "Dates Of Wrath" (or whatever it's called), I quickly adverted my eyes from the screen to the wall mirror. Which, in retrospect, was probably a mistake, since it made it look as though I was shouting vulgarities at my own reflection.
So, anyway, yeah, I looked like an ass. But, y'know, you gotta put these things in perspective. Everyone at the gym thinks I'm a lunatic now, true. But it could be worse; I could be on a televised date with The Clicker. Thank god for small mercies, that's what I always say.
Update: Apparently it's called A Dating Story. Do not watch in public.Posted on July 09, 2003 to Observations