First a side note. I have a sublet for the month of July. When I got to the place a few days ago I discovered there's no cable. Apparently the girl I'm subletting from has lived there for two years without any television access whatsoever. This HAS to qualify as treason of some sort. People baffle me.

Aside from the obvious obstacle this causes for my new gig here, I'm addicted to television, so this was a nightmare realization for me. Honestly, I'd prefer not having running water. Since this lack of cable discovery, I've divided (and will continue to divide) my free time, between 1. the elliptical machine at New York Sports Club which has a TV attached to it, and 2.the electronics department of Sears, where I've recently convinced Mark the Sears employee to permit me to watch television shows of my choosing on the 52 inch plasma while sitting on a Dora the Explorer bean bag chair I swiped from the Childrens' Furniture department. My goal for the end of July is to convince Manuel from Housewares to plug in the Westinghouse microwave so I can cook my popcorn. If you've ever met me before, you know that this is all true. And that Manuel is mine.

My Prince awaits.

Speaking of desperate times calling for desperate measures, let's get to the reason we're all here: To celebrate the fact that Reality TV times are so tough, even Chachi got his own show. For any of you who have caught the preview, you know what I'm referring to. Scott Baio... is 45...and Single (the pause between words is key, by the way). I love this title, since for once it's a show that cuts to the chase. If only all TV shows were so forthcoming with precisely what we were in for. Lost could be The Show With No Answers, 24 could be Bombs, Dead Presidents and What's with Chloe's Weird Eyebrows? and Will and Grace could have been Jack and Karen are Better.

The only thing this title left out is that Scott Baio is VERY VERY Brooklyn Italian. At least he sounds it. He's got that whole "ay, oh!" bada bing thing going on. You know the type...they call women "broads," smoke cigars, talk like tough guys, leave the Rs off the end of their words, and seem quite convinced that these qualities somehow combine to make an attractive package. Incidentally, they're also the type that the term "chauvinistic" derived from.

Scott is back on the small screen to figure out why it is he can't commit to a woman and why he's still wearing long sleeve white shirts underneath t-shirts at 45 years old, when it's well established in the unwritten rules of appropriate attire that that's an "under thirty" look. Oh, wait, no, the ridiculously young wardrobe is what I'M trying to figure out. HE'S just there to discover why, (say it with me now) Scott Baio...is 45...and Single. Just a hunch here, but I'd guess it could have something to do with the fact that Scott Baio...Refers to Himself...In the Third Person. God I love those pauses.