I have a confession. I'm addicted to crack television. It all started so innocently. Really.
When I arrived in Henry County last year, I house sat for our proofreader, Marty. The television picked up just two channels very clearly - FOX and CBS.
It meant, ever so sadly, that I couldn't chill out in an arm chair watching the Discovery Channel or the History Channel. Sure, I had plenty of movies with me, but I needed some television time.
So, one Tuesday night, I turned on the television and saw the auditions for American Idol.
In the previous five seasons I'd steadfastly refused to tune in, decrying the show as junk food television.
Well, it became the start of my addiction to what I like to call crack television. Some folks call 'em reality shows, but there's nothing truly real about them.
So, with the rest of the Idol watching world, I sat through night after night of auditions that at times resembled a carnival side show as much as a talent show.
And yes, like the rest of the world, I laughed until I cried when Simon Cowell compared Kenneth Briggs to a bush baby.
And yes, like so many others, I wanted to throw things at the television each week Sanjaya was kept on by voters.
But you see, it was just the beginning for me.
Upon moving into our house in Campbellsburg, I found myself stranded here one weekend in February by snow. Though I had access to cable, I somehow landed upon the trashiest of crack shows, I Love New York.
I couldn't look away. It was like watching a train wreck actually happening.
One of my friends likes to give me a lot of grief for my enjoyment of American Idol, while the father of another recently came out of the closet as a hard core Idol fan.
I don't have many vices, really. I've tried (mostly) giving up fast food. I don't smoke. I don't read romance novels.
But boy, do I love me some TV junk food.
Jonna Spelbring Priester can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.