How happy was I last night to check out the free MTV I get from my cable company, and to see that The Hills, Season 1 was on there?

Too happy for my own good, that’s how happy. I called my roommate over and, like two eight-year-olds on Christmas Eve, we danced and cheered and laughed before sitting down to watch free reality television with maximum drama and beautiful people. Addiction set in, one episode quickly became another (because who can say no once the announcer says, “Next time on… The Hills”?) and before I knew it I wanted to eat every meal out, go out and buy a new wardrobe and start communicating with others chiefly via texting. What?

I called friends between episodes to share the good news. I started drinking water instead of eating chips, because come on, the girls of The Hills look hot! And don’t I want to too? Yes! I just need a backyard pool and free afternoons to lay outside on a lounge.

By midnight last night I’d watched the entire season. I felt as though I’d just stuffed myself with too much Easter chocolates. Like I’d just gone shopping and over maxxed my limit, and arrived home to decide I didn’t even really like the clothes I bought. I felt gluttonous and slothful. Two deadly sin feelings for one night were too much. Resultant guilt set in.

Call me Catholic, but I felt guilty. Guilty for indulging in so many hours, stagnant, motionless, on my couch. And what do I gain? I am now more educated on how to fit in should I find myself a socialite twentysomething in LA? No! I am relieved not to have such drama and confusion in my own life? Maybe. But I’ll tell you after, so many episodes, my mind was not feeling reflective or inspired to change the world. Maybe I should put the 24 news channel on while I get ready tonight, and promise myself to read something smartish tomorrow.

Ohmigod, did I just say smartish? Save me from myself!