if you only read one ransom note this year, make it mine

You guys, I am totally addicted to ABC’s hit series the Bachelor. There’s nothing I enjoy more than popping in a DiGiorno, getting into my comfiest sweatpants, dimming the lights, and gluing myself to the TV, completely enthralled as adorable real-estate magnate Brad Womack whittles down the candidates each week from a field of beautiful women in search of his soul mate and partner for life. So, you can only imagine how frustrating it was last month when my boss announced that we were temporarily gonna start working late on Mondays to catch up from the holidays. The first Monday, I got home five minutes after it started, and found I had completely set the DVR wrong! So I watched the 55 minutes left in the episode, then stayed up till ABC finally put it online at 2am, all to see the first five minutes. But you know me: I wound up staying awake and re-watching the whole thing! I was helpless to resist Brad’s charms!

Needless to say, the following week I made extra sure to set my DVR correctly, and even gave my neighbor my house key, so he could come over and make sure there hadn’t been like a power outage or something to prevent it from recording. I also paid him $20 to record it on his DVR at his house, just in case. You never can be too sure, am I right, ladies? Good thing the recording went off without a hitch, too, because I missed the whole episode by several hours, since I stayed at the office after everyone had gone home, totally engrossed by the 15 or so blogs, fansites, and message boards devoted to the Bachelor that I read, edit, and moderate daily.

The third week, I sneaked out the bathroom window so I could make sure I got home in time to see the entire episode. Unfortunately, I hit my boss’ car on the way out of the parking lot and didn’t leave a note because I was in such a hurry. I had planned to tell him first thing the next morning, but before I could, he called me into his office with some cops and showed me a video of the accident that had been captured by a nearby security camera, then fired me on the spot. By the end of the month, I was turning tricks on the streets to get my Bachelor fix, which I needed more than ever since other areas of my life weren’t going so well. As soon as I could scrape together $40, I’d run straight to a rundown apartment where my pimp would let me sit in a darkened room and watch the Bachelor for 5 minutes. Just long enough to get the shakes to stop so I could get back on the corner. It became a $600 a day habit!

I do admit, at times it has gotten in the way of my personal relationships as well. My friends roll their eyes a bit when I go on babbling incoherently about Brad’s sexy pecs and amazing smile, and the deep, intractable knowledge that he and he alone can understand my most closely held hopes and dreams. My boyfriend says I should enter rehab for my dependence to the Bachelor. Like he has any room to talk; he’s practically a crack addict for his hobby. Of course, his hobby is smoking cocaine.