A Not-So-Subtle Cry For Help

I apologize to all (the millions) of our fans whose letters we have yet to answer. There's a perfectly legitimate excuse that I'm sure you will find fascinating. I have been taking part in a highly controlled experiment for the past several days. So controlled in fact that I have had little time to devote to the autistic children I tutor in the mornings or the gang members I recite poetry to after school.

But I digress.
The purpose of my experiment: To assess the effects of continuous reality-tv watching on my ability to function in my own reality.

My hypothesis: By watching others (not unlike myself) go on blind dates with several people at a time or remodel houses under serious time constraints and with limited budgets, I would become a superior being...functioning at a much higher level than my less-experienced-with-reality counterparts who would merely have their own life experiences from which to draw for guidance.

Unfortunately, I was remiss to discover that the results did not support my hypothesis. While I rated my ability to function in reality at a 4 (on a scale from 1-10) prior to performing the experiment, I'm sad to report that my functioning level is now a 2 at best.
I give you a conversation I had with my bank teller earlier today:
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BT: Hello, how may i help you?
Me: Well! If you pick me, I can offer you an extremely friendly interaction and a quick and easy deposit request.
BT: Um..ma'am, you are next in line. (noticing the blank stare on my face and after an awkward 10 second silence)....uh..I pick you.
Me: (screeching)...ah! you made the right choice! (then turning to the side to face an invisible camera) "I was pretty confident he would pick me. I mean look at the competition! He knows a good thing when he sees it!"
BT: Security!
Me: (to the security guard as i'm being escorted out) I noticed that the walls in here are pink. You know, sometimes color looks better if you keep it in the fabrics and furniture and stick to a neutral shade for the walls. It's more calming and makes the space look larger...I can come back and give you some pointers...oh..ok. no I understand. public safety, yes. ok. well, this was a great experience and I wouldn't trade it for the world. (door slams behind me).
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As I sat on the curb outside the bank, wondering what was taking the goodbye limo, I thought about how I probably shouldn't have cancelled my plans to give free piano lessons to the kids at the trauma ward. My experiment had failed miserably, and poor little Franky was no doubt huddled in a corner clutching his music notes, rocking back and forth, and wondering why yet another person had abandoned him. I felt terrible. Then I looked down at my watch and realized what time it was. Another episode of "Date My Mom" would be starting in 20 minutes. Fuck the limo. I'm walking home.