No, I’m not ever going to watch “The Surreal Life”. I don’t watch any reality shows (unless you count sports), and I’m sure as hell not going to start at the bottom rung.

However, I’ve gotta say that an episode with Flavor Flav and Brigitte Nielsen pitching woo at each other makes it weirdly intriguing.

(I searched in vain for an ideal photo of the Cold Lamper, fully decked out with shades and the clock on his chest that prove he don’t fess. But came up empty. Deal with it.)

In light of the Miss America Pageant’s declining fortunes, and the toe-in-the-water approach they’ve already taken in incorporating reality-programming elements, I thought about suggesting some jokey improvements.

But Sharon Fink beat me to it. So I’m not re-inventing the wheel. I particularly like the “Survivor: Atlantic City” concept.

I was watching a little bit of baseball last night, and noticed something odd at San Francisco’s SBC Park:

Out by the center field wall, there was a big, colorful Yahoo! banner ad on the wall. On the wall next to it, there was a number: 404.

Now, the 404 refers to the line measure distance from home plate to the center field wall. It’s a typical marking in baseball stadiums. The marking is needed because it varies in each park (part of the irregular charm of baseball).

But in Web terms, the 404 is that dreaded error message you get in your browser when a site is down or you’ve entered an incorrect address.

So, the juxtaposition of the Yahoo! ad and that number… I dunno. Bad news.

Why is it that when you’re consciously waiting for a specific email, from a specific party or parties, you wind up getting about a million unrelated emails in the meantime?

And I’m not talking about spam, but more or less “real” emails. Because they’re actually relevant, they have to be checked; but, they give false hope just the same.

I’m sure this is covered somewhere in Murphy’s Laws and Corollaries, but I’m too lazy to wade through all the subsections.

So thanks to the lack of a filed marriage license, speculation rumbles that Britney Spears’ surprise marriage this weekend was a hoax, meant to decoy the tabloids away from her real wedding.

Personally, I think the dead giveaway was the report of Journey’s “Lights” being played at the reception. No way does Britney have that sappy song on her special day!

I’m betting the real reception song will be The Dixie Chicks’ “White Trash Wedding”. Tell me these lyrics aren’t appropos:

Chorus
You can’t afford no ring
You can’t afford no ring
I shouldn’t be wearing white
and you can’t afford no ring

You finally took my hand
You finally took my hand
It took a nip of gin
but you finally took my hand

Chorus

Mamma don’t approve
Mamma don’t approve
Daddy says he’s the very best
And mamma don’t approve

Chorus

Baby’s on its way
Baby’s on its way
Say I do and kiss me quick
‘Cause baby’s on its way

I shouldn’t be wearing white and you can’t afford no ring!

Can’t afford no ring, momma don’t approve, nip of gin… and we’ve all heard the bun-in-the-oven rumors. It’s like they custom-wrote it for Ms. Spears.

(Incidentally, the first time I heard “White Trash Wedding” was at the wedding of my friends, Tom and Amber. They thought it had just the right touch of self-deprecation.)