Confessions of a reality TV virgin

We don't watch much TV in our house -- we do record The Daily Show and Colbert every day, but don't have any other regular habits. (When basketball season rolls around, we more than make up for our below-average screen time, but sadly, we're not quite there yet.) Last night, in a strange coincidence I can only describe as Unusual, the kids were in bed, DT was occupied, the dishes were washed (helps when you don't cook), lunches were made (helps when you forget to take your already-made lunch from the previous day), and I had time to work on knitting a hat I've promised to WonderGirl.

I turned on the TV for a bit of distraction, but not so much that I would mysteriously and consistently drop stitches, leading to a hat full of holes instead of yarn, which I would unsuccessfully attempt to repair, and which might, even now, be sitting at the bottom of a tote bag, cleverly disguised as a knotted ball of yarn with no hat-like qualities. For instance. In any case, the first channel I checked was showing Dancing With the Stars. I'd heard of it, and I am an upapologetic fan of Jerry Springer's radio show, so I left it on.

It was great. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I enjoyed watching. The dances were fun, Emmitt Smith was amusing; I actually Tivo'ed it for WonderGirl to watch later. Here is my question: have I completely lost my standards? Have I not kept myself in TV watching shape, and has my crap-ometer gone on the fritz? My only previous reality-TV experience was the first season of Survivor, so perhaps I'm just reacting to the genre. I don't think I'll make a point of watching another show, but I did leave it on until nearly the end.

I'm either pathetic or a pioneer, not sure which.