  One more reason to hate reality TV: I'm starving last night around 8, so I head down to my local bar in Long Branch for a grease burger. It's the kind of place that at 8, I'm probably still ok to be there by myself. But after 10, I'm "that guy" in the collared shirt staring at the college girls in the corner. But they've got Credence Clearwater Revival on the jukebox and I've got a beer in front of me, so I'm ok. Until I look up.
It's Fear Factor, and my burger hasn't come yet. I'm watching a cute woman in a sports bra fill her mouth with scorpions and worms, and then spit them out into a meat grinder off to the side. While she's digging for another big mouthful, she starts to crank the handle on the meat grinder, sending a motor oil colored stream of bug shit into the waiting mouth of what has to be her twin sister, who is lying on the ground.
It spatters the woman all over her face, her teeth, her eyes... and my food is coming. As it turns out, these people are doing it for free, because they lose by a tenth of an ounce or something. And here comes my burger, medium and still bleeding on the bun. Yum. Reality TV isn't just making us stupid, it's making me sick. Thanks NBC, you should be proud of yourself you network shitbags. Thanks for ruining my fucking burger. 
