It is inevitable: if you turn on a television within a 30-ft radius of me and there is a reality show based on some sort of man-on-man competition that involves baking, cooking, losing weight, finding a has-been celebrity spouse, or figuring out what the Jersey Shore kids will screw next, my brain will shut down, my eyes will glaze, and I with shuffle off to the couch where I will stay until the 500-hour marathon is over, covered in the filth of 3 days.