Damn You, Tila Tequila

I used to watch "Cheaters," so I don't have particularly high standards when it comes to reality television. In fact, my friend J. says I have an unusually high tolerance for watching people make asses out of themselves.

But even I initially said "no" to Tila Tequila. Of course, she's the miniature hottie with the bisexual dating show on MTV, "A Shot at Love With Tila Teqiula." It's on its second cycle, which I found out this morning at the gym. While, um, watching it.

All the cardio machines just got outfitted with televisions, which has allowed me to indulge in some the trashiest television on network TV. I spent my entire 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer watching a train wreck that would not end. Tila visited some guy's extended family, and by the end of dinner, the guy's mom had flashed her boobs at Tila's request (at the table!) and then kissed her ex-husband's current wife on the mouth.

I'm just as confounded as most people about why she's famous, but she's a canny businesswoman. She knows that almost anybody will watch girl-on-girl makeout action. And let's be honest; nobody tunes in for the male contestants. And is it just me, or does she resemble Jade, the Asian Bratz doll? Big head, skanky-cute, etc. I'm just saying.

I hope I didn't just give her a new promotional idea.

A Word About Nariah

I picked up People's special "Nick & Mariah" issue on Friday, taking in the indulgent beach ceremony/honeymoon photos and Nariah's declarations of "love at first sight." The quotes were straight out of "The Delusional Lovers Handbook," but maybe that's just the jealousy talking. While they were frolicking on the beach and drinking Dom, I was probably loading the dishwasher and wondering how I was going to get out of taking my kid to see "Speed Racer."

Still, I'm beginning to think that celebrities inhabit a reality-free universe populated by fairies and unicorns. I guess when you don't have to worry about the mortgage or getting your car serviced, anything seems possible. It seems perfectly rational to tattoo "Mariah" across your back in bold script, so certain are you that your six-week relationship is built to last. It can't just be infatuation talking. Because you've got, you know, stuff in common — spirituality and whatnot.

I don't doubt that Nick Cannon is working overtime to make his new bride happy or that he's living the dream of every straight male who grew up in the '90s. And Mariah could do a lot worse. It's not like she married a backup dancer (Though he did give an exclusive interview about his breakup with singer Christina Milian to Sister 2 Sister magazine, which isn't exactly Vanity Fair). I also understand that dating for a year or two (or five) is no guarantee of a solid marriage. So why does the whole thing come off as so frivolous? Maybe it's because we've seen this so many times — the whirlwind, starry-eyed courtship, the certainty that this love is like no other, the ill-advised tattoos, the divorce three months later.

The pixie dust and romantic globe-trotting ought to keep them happy for a while. Then the hard work begins.

Or not.

Ignorant Songs: Florida Does It Again

I've lived in Florida most of my adult live, so when it comes to music, I've heard some of the most ghetto tomfoolery imaginable. Luke. The Jam Pony Express. Poison Clan. One of my fondest memories (circa 1992) is of listening to a newspaper arts writer perform a Clay D. song intro that went something like this: "This is for all the motherf^%*ers who said Clay D wasn't s*&@!"

R. Kelly singlehandedly reset the bar, surpassing even his own enviable record of audio ignorance with "Real Talk." When I heard it last year, it was a bit like seeing Pacino in his prime. In the genre of "Songs to Embarrass the Race By," R. has long been the undisuputed master.

Well, the master has been upstaged. The paradigm has shifted. This song by Florida (of course) rapper Riskay is so over the top in its ignorance that I can't even bring myself to share the title. Perhaps these choice lyrics will provide a clue: I might break bread with one or two strippers/but that don't mean you got to pull my zipper.

As an aside, I don't think this is the kind of iPhone product placement that Steve Jobs had in mind.