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Photo by Craig Hlavaty

In May Hair Balls intrepidly reported that local WWE Diva and Playboy cover girl Torrie Wilson would be dropped into the middle of a Costa Rican jungle as a contestant on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, NBC's not-so-hit reality TV show that also featured people like Sanjaya and Patti Blagojevich. The finale aired on Wednesday night.

It turns out many of Wilson's predictions came true: The Hills' Heidi and Spencer Pratt were no match for the jungle (they quit almost immediately); she put some wrestling moves on the awful Janice Dickinson (who was caught stealing from other contestants); and she could indeed take on the crazy Stephen Baldwin (she outlasted both him and his brother Daniel).

Actually, Wilson almost won. She was runner up to "King of the Jungle" Lou Diamond Phillips -- which should still qualify her as Queen, in our opinion.

Wilson is back safe and sound in charming Houston, but, according to her publicist, she's kind of "between places" right now. Maybe the jungle was a little rougher than it looked on TV.

The Great Digital TV Revolution occurs tomorrow, and Hair Balls is worried for those of you still clinging to your rabbit ears and MacGyvered-aluminum-foil towers. While we applaud those who have drawn a line in the sand and refused to feed the cable and satellite beasts, we urge you to get a government coupon for a digital converter box.

Why is that, Hair Balls, you ask. Well, how else will you continue to enjoy the exquisite mainstream network and syndicated fare your non-cable-owning ass has been glued to all these years? You know exactly what we're talking about: The CW, Chuck Norris Total Gym infomercials, Joel Osteen's joke of the day, and Telemundo's caliente bikini-clad women on rollerskates. Regular network TV is simply a goldmine -- and this is just a tiny sample of what you'll be missing out on if you don't get a converter box.

The People's Court

Our favorite real-life courtroom show by far, this latest version of the One That Started it All features a jurist who is decidedly more attractive than Joseph Wapner. Judge Marian Millian brings a real dramatic flair to the courtroom, as evidenced by this clip, where she brings the wrath of God down on this smarmy law student/plaintiff. But Millian's freakouts are only one of the attractions; we also like the cut-aways to Times Square, where a microphone-wielding Harvey Levin takes a break from his TMZ star-fucking to see how sidewalk sophists render fender-bender verdicts. Then there's the post-game breakdown, with the dude who stands in the hall outside the courtroom, asking each party how they felt about the judge's decision. Spoiler alert: The winner is always "pleased with the judge's decision." The loser is always "disappointed."

Photo by Craig Hlavaty

Things seem to be going well for Torrie Wilson. After a ten-year stint as a pro wrestling diva, the former Miss Galaxy and Playboy cover girl has settled down in Houston and opened her own Melrose-themed clothing store. But a week from today she'll be abandoned in a Costa Rican jungle.
 
This can only mean that a new reality TV series is upon us. It's an American spin-off of the UK's I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, which mates Survivor with Fear Factor by sticking fringe celebrities in remote locations and making them do gross and funny stuff.
 
Torrie will compete against people like Sanjay and Stephen Baldwin (Blago was part of the original cast, but a federal judge mercifully nixed the idea). She met with Hair Balls this afternoon to discuss her quest to become Queen of the Jungle--her only possible reward, since she's playing for charity.
 
Hair Balls: Have you ever been in a jungle?
 
Torrie Wilson: I mean I've been to lots of tropical locations, but I've never actually walked through the jungle.
 
HB: So how does this work?
 
TW: They're taking ten of us and dumping us into the rain forest. We get a small portion of rice and beans to eat every day, and we do different trials, kind of like Survivor, to win extra food or extra luxuries or items that we might need.
 
I don't know how often the trials are going to be, but the show is actually airing four days a week and parts of every show are going to be live. So like if I have to eat bugs or whatever, that's probably going to be live.
 
HB: Sounds gross.
 
TW: I wouldn't choose to eat bugs. Let's put it that way.
 

The other day I had a random thought: When "COPS" first aired, wasn't, like, Jimmy Carter the president?

Dang. I just went back and checked. That show premiered when I was in junior high. JUNIOR HIGH. Do you know how long ago that was? I'm not ashamed to say I'm 32 and lookin' fine, but my God. Junior high. And "COPS" has been on all this time.

Wow.

I used to watch it as a kid and laugh at all the boys at my school who would sing the theme song as they pretended to arrest each other on the playground. As a drunk college student, I chuckled ironically when I watched Billy Bob run outside of his trailer screaming about his wife. (Hell, isn't "COPS" responsible for the popularity of the disgusting but appropriate term "wifebeater" to describe those white, sleeveless shirts for dude?) When I was dating my husband and still had my own place (and was too poor for cable), I would watch "COPS" while I waited for him to pick me up for a Friday night date (talk about settin' the mood, oh yeah).

Okay, so I don't actually understand betting odds. (Like, if it's five to one are those bad odds or good odds? Or what?)

Regardless, I can tell you I've been making my own little guesstimates on who is going to survive VH1's "Sober House" (which is the more measured, more intimate "Celebrity Rehab" - this time with Andy Dick!).

Watching "Sober House" is like watching "Intervention" and not feeling bad about laughing. In between the laughing, I've created my own predictions on who comes out clean on the other end.

Steven Adler: Actually already dead, but they have propped him up and planted heroin on him to make the first episode more interesting. Of all the contestants, he is the one most likely to be offered his own series after this is all over.

Seth "Shifty" Binzer: Who can tell me who this guy is? Anyway, previews for the next episode hint at a possible relapse, although he did break curfew and come home clean in the second episode, so I could be wrong. The nickname "Shifty" doesn't seem to suggest being successful at sobriety, however.

Oh God, my stomach is so distended. WHY do I do this to myself every Super Bowl Sunday? I watch one football game each year and it's this one, and the only reason I watch it is to have an excuse to eat snacks and watch commercials.

A few thoughts on this year's game:

First of all, choirs are very in, apparently. Both Faith Hill and Bruce Springsteen had choirs in their shows. Speaking of The Boss, did you check out his crotch slide right into the camera during the halftime gig? We were attacked by Bruce Springsteen's cock and balls, and personally, I loved every second of it. He still looks and sounds great.

What could you do with all the fake tatas on the Rock of Love Bus?

You could make a raft big enough to save all the people from that Hudson River plane crash.

You could rebuild the face of a young burn victim.

You could make one million rubber door stops.

Lost is back this week.

I don't know if I should be happy or pissed as Hell that once again I'm going to spend a good chunk of my free time sifting through Lostpedia and contemplating possible theories with friends until one in the morning. ("Do you think what's happening is that Hurley is actually Jack after gaining a lot of weight, and the two men are simply representatives of two possible paths in the space time continuum?")

Okay, so My Super Sweet Sixteen is this hellaciously horrible MTV show about rich brats whose mommies and daddies throw them insanely crazy parties to celebrate the fact that they haven't died in the past 16 years. And it's just terrible.

And sometimes I watch it.

Observing such snots makes me want to get my tubes tied until I remind myself that Mr. Pop Rocks and I would never stoop so low as to raise such a horrible child. (And frankly, as long as I'm driving a 2002 Chevy, there ain't no way a child of mine is getting a new car on her sixteenth birthday.)

So I know I'm not the only nutjob who comes home from work, puts on a little TNT to catch a rerun of Law & Order, then realizes five hours later that the whole evening has passed her by and she has once again spent more time with Lennie Briscoe than her own husband.

The point is, watching so much Law & Order has made me afraid of public restrooms. Not just restrooms, but parking garages, alleys, car trunks, and parks. Why? Because I'm constantly imagining I'm going to find a dead body there.

It's how every episode of the original (and still the best) L&O starts. Some extras are bantering back and forth - running in the park, arguing outside a restaurant, playing with their kids in the playground - and bam. Cadaver. Just sittin' there. Or actually, laying there. Sometimes with some bruises around the head and neck, sometimes with a big ol' pool of blood pouring out of their noses. Sometimes with a glove or a baseball bat nearby. Sometimes nothing.