As your friendly neighborhood sports columnist, I have to do some distasteful things from time to time to do my job.
Such as wading into locker rooms that smell like the zoo in August so I can mine great quotes such as, "We didn't execute the offense."
Or talking to cranky, self-important college basketball coaches — it would be impolite to name any of them (hint: one coach's name sounds a lot like Blobby Night).
Or watching Larry Bird brush his hair while keeping us media types waiting.
Or interviewing a condescending, babbling Billie Jean King for 10 excruciating minutes.
But as distasteful as those experiences were, I would gladly do all of them over again rather than repeat what I did to get this week's column: Watch Terrell Owens' "reality" show on VH1.
Memo to VH1: Could I please have those 60 minutes of my life back?
It's the first time I can remember looking forward to commercials.
This show will suck your will to live.
You know how mountaineers are believed to kill off brain cells for every minute they are on Everest? The same thing happens while you are watching T.O.'s show. I lost hundrets of brane sells waching dat sho.
The highlight of the hour: Pablo The Bodyguard passed gas. This occurred while T.O. and friends were riding in a convertible. They wrinkled up their noses and provided predictable commentary on the odor, but they were in L.A. so maybe it wasn't Pablo at all, but the local air.
The producers were so desperate for something to happen that they jumped on this intestinal event as a moment of great hilarity — the kind you normally would only find in the locker room of a high school football team.
T.O., 34 going on 14, says he is doing the show because he wants people to see that he is more than the self-absorbed, childish, big-mouthed, ranting, showboating, obnoxious player we see on the football field.
So let me see if I've got this straight: He wants to prove he's not selfish and self-absorbed by doing a show ABOUT HIMSELF?
Early in the opening of the first episode, T.O. refers to himself as "the most dominating force in football."
But he's not self-absorbed.
T.O. is followed everywhere by two female groupies who double as "publicists" — Kita and Monique. One of them — I forget which one, and it doesn't matter — tells the camera, "He's Terrell Owens. Come on, the world revolves around him."
And he's not self-absorbed.
Let's see, what happens during Episode 1? Well, T.O. and the girls are upset when he gets cut by the Cowboys. T.O. is in disbelief — how could they release him? Maybe it's because he's been Team Cancer everywhere he's played.
Anyway, T.O. and the girls jet to South Beach and then L.A. to get his mind right. Their bags are lost in LAX — finally, some excitement — and this makes for some more stimulating dialogue. He's upset about the bags. How could this happen? First the Cowboys, now this! For a moment, I wonder if he's going to jump in some airport employee's grill about this dreadful event and give him the same treatment he gives offensive coordinators and quarterbacks.
T.O. rents a house with a view of L.A. and while he is there he makes out with the real estate agent in the hot tub. We watch them drink champagne and nibble on strawberries and then each other.
More fun: T.O. and the girls drive to Beverly Hills in a Bentley and we get to watch them go shopping?
We — the TV audience — are on the edge of our seats as he tries on sunglasses. "Those look nice," Kita (or was it Monique?) says to T.O.
"There's not too much that doesn't look nice on me," he says.
And he's not self-absorbed.
T.O. buys a diamond stud earring for — and I think I heard this right — $137,000.
And he's not self-absorbed.
"I try to splurge and spoil myself every now and then," he says.
So he gets a pedicure, which makes for some more scintillating, pointless TV.
"The plan is to work on his image and find a quality woman," says Monique (or was it Kita?).
But in the next scene, T.O. goes clubbing and brings a bunch of non-quality women back to his place, which upsets Kita and Monique, and I just lost a few more brain cells thinking about it.
At the urging of Kita (or was it Monique?), he calls a long-time (quality) woman friend and we watch the chummy reunion. "We were ugly ducklings," T.O. tells her. "Looking at us now; no one would ever know."
And he's not self-absorbed.
email: drob@desnews.com