came late to The Real World. Having no cable until late in college, the show just sounded like programming in some futuristic dystopia: People sit around watching other people live their lives. Sorry, I had laundry to fold.

That changed when I got my own place, replete with basic cable and long Saturday afternoons, bored and hungover. The Real World ran marathons on those days, which was something akin to starting drug use by freebasing. I'd watch seasons in one sitting. You have no idea how many times I had to endure those obnoxious CALL-ATT commercials.

This is all by way of introducing a story I have on Nerve today. It's about how bad The Real World is these days. See, I'd like to say that, at 30 years old, I outgrew bingeing on bad programming -- but I can't. I watched RW: Paris and, just the other night, all episodes of RW:Philadelphia. You missed it? Lucky you.