Playboy: The Girls Next Door

Life is too short for guilty pleasures. I figure I might as well enjoy them and spare myself the self flagellation. One thing that does come close to being a guilty pleasure would be the television show, Playboy: The Girls Next Door.

I'm not too sure what to make of it. When I first started watching the show I couldn't believe how vacuous Hefner's girlfriends are. It was like watching a trainwreck. I was simultaneously drawn and repulsed by the whole spectacle.

I've been watching it long enough to know that I genuinely like the program, although I would be at a loss to explain why I enjoy it. Despite the fact that Bridget is working on her Masters Degree, Holly looks like she is the smartest of the bunch. I suspect she wants to be the third Mrs. Hefner, which either makes her very naive or calculating.

The one thing I don't understand is Hefner's rather bland taste in food. The man subsists entirely on a diet of fried chicken, sandwiches, and Pepsi. If I had that much money I'd be having my chefs prepare dolphins filets served on a bed of orchids harvested from the Brazilian rain forest.