Where'd all the good people go?

A sudden fear struck me at my desk today at work. Something was amiss -- I had forgotten something. I'm a very organized person, so moments like these are pretty rare, and very unsettling. What could it be? All of my work was done or in progress, I hadn't left any lights on at home -- but something was missing. And then I realized, with a shock -- I was belatedly mourning the fact that Rock of Love: Tour Bus was a repeat this week.

Confessional: I am a reality-tv-aholic. I've actually gotten much better, but I can't seem to shake those REALLY guilty pleasures (Top Model, Project Runway, Top Chef, What not to Wear, etc.). Yet, if I were to miss one week of any of those shows, I would shrug it off and check online who had been kicked off. No big deal. But today, I felt a strange yearning for the trashiest of them all. And I have a good idea why.

I love to love Bret Michaels (nee Sychak, born in, that's right, Butler, PA). I hardly know the chorus to "Every Rose Has its Thorn," but there is something about the way he wears his Steelers hat with pride and refers to everything with more than one X chromosome as "smokin" that really makes me root for him. Diablo Cody gives great commentary on EW, and I think she is right on with her assessment. Despite the horror that might register across my face at some of the antics of the, ahem, ladies who compete, I sincerely want Bret Michaels to be happy. I don't watch to see the crazy antics of an egomaniacal host (I'm looking your way, Ty Ty) or to watch people fail (who amongst us doesn't secretly watch Project Runway to judge?) -- I watch Rock of Love (Tour Bus!) because I truly want my hometown boy to find a girl who can both rock out at his concerts and give him a shot of insulin when he's had too much candy. Instead of loving to hate, I'm loving to love. And despite the occasional popping of an implant, isn't that what television should be about?

Jack Johnson asks us, "how many train wrecks do we need to see?" Although I generally agree, I beg of the Rock of Love people to have just one more season (read: this season sucks). I'm sure that Bret's soul mate is out there somewhere...and I'm sure that he will find her through trashy television. And if not, at least I will no longer break into a cold sweat in the middle of the workday due to Bret Michaels withdrawal.