Column:

'The Hills' has too much drama for a Columbia resident

By Andrea Fuhrer

Published Sept. 19, 2008

Last week was a great week for me. I had some fantastic chili at my friend's house, I improved my time-management skills (meaning I actually did some homework before sitting in front of the TV for hours) and best of all, "The Hills" was on television not one, but two glorious times.

Yes, that right. Although this statement might lose many readers, I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a "The Hills" fanatic. I even own all three of the past seasons of the reality show on DVD (gasp!).

I can't explain why, but for some reason this show just captivates me. Not even the rumors of a script can faze me. It's like when you tell small children that Santa Claus isn't real. They might cry at first, but eventually they'll just block that out of their memory and keep on believing.

One thing I particularly enjoy doing as I watch "The Hills" is dreaming about what it would be like if I starred in my own hit reality show. However, I feel like there are a few aspects of my life that might just sabotage my television future.

First of all, my daily transportation is a lot less glamorous than a sporty black convertible. In lieu of an opening shot of me driving through town with the top down and my hair blowing sexily in the wind, viewers would have to settle for one of the following images: Andrea, driving her less than sporty purple Impala, Andrea riding the humongous blue Columbia Transit bus or Andrea, sitting on the side of the road in her fiancé's '88 Buick because it frequently and unexplainably turns itself off while you're driving.

Secondly, I do a lot of disturbing things in my spare time that I'd like to keep private. For example, I am a horrible dancer, but I suffer from a sporadic dancing problem. I dance to my iPod in the tanning bed (stand-up beds - dancing in a lay-down tanning bed would be a whole new level of frightening, one that I hope I'm never capable of achieving). I dance to the theme music of a variety of television shows. My personal favorite is "Law and Order" - I have an almost choreographed routine for that catchy tune, and you can bet it includes some foot stomping.

Another deterrent for MTV giving me my own show is the fact that my day-to-day fashion choices aren't exactly haute couture. My closet looks like it ate a T-shirt factory and my pants selection would diminish considerably if sweatpants were outlawed. And lately, because of the strangely cool temperatures and the lack of warm clothing I brought to school with me, I've been wearing the same two pairs of pants and two sweat jackets on alternate days. But don't worry. I wash them - sometimes.

Finally, my life lacks the ability to produce enough drama for a reality show. I'm in a relationship, so I try to avoid meeting cute guys and going on dates. None of my friends have had plastic surgery or made sex tapes (or if they have, they've done a far better job of keeping it a secret than anyone on "The Hills"). And I live alone, so fights with my roommate are rare. When they do occur, though, harsh words are exchanged.

So currently, it looks like the closest thing in my life to a reality show comes when I go home and my brother is practicing the guitar. It's like having a soundtrack to your life (except that he's always playing something like "Adam's Song" by Blink 182 or "Far Away" by Nickelback, which just makes you feel like you're about to experience some deeply emotional and traumatic moment).