I watch VH1 so you don't have to

It is deeply offensive how much I love VH1's new crop of reality shows. I'm like a junkie who knows her addiction is killing her, but she can't stop because of the pretty colors and the flashy things and oh my god, is that Brett Michaels?

Yes, crackhead. Yes it is.

Let me break down the awesomeness for those of you with lives or without cable.

• Rock of Love: Starring Poison frontman Brett Michaels (and his rotating cast of silly headwear and animal-print trenchcoats), this show follows the Flavor of Love formula down to every detail, including the house Crazy Bitch (Lacy and New York, respectively). A horrified audience watches as a washed-up, middle-age, hair-band frontman does his best to cover up his male-pattern baldness and apply his eyeliner in a fashion that would suggest he's even a little bit sober. He makes no bones about why he keeps certain women — sorry, certain "girls" — in the house: their big, beautiful double Ds, of course. But the authenticity of these enormous breasts does not weigh heavily on Brett Michaels; he is an equal-opportunity ogler and will accept you no matter where your huge tits come from, America! Throughout the course of the show, the women participate in competitions that will allow them to win brief "dates" with Brett, which just means they can get drunk in private with him. Everyone else gets drunk together. Then they all meet up and get drunker.

Moment when I realized I love this show: When Brett dressed up in silk jammies and a "doctor" applied a little ring around his Little Brett to measure blood flow while the contestants talked dirty to him over the phone from the next room. One woman sang him a song; another recited poetry. Hott.

• Scott Baio is 45 and Single: I wasn't around for all the "Joanie loves Chachi" crap, so Scott Baio is and always will be Charles in Charge to me. Which is why his annoying brashness and overall jerkbaggery is such a shock on his new show. The premise is this: Scott Baio spent his heydey working his way through Hollywood's and Playboy's finest, so he's never settled down and he has no idea how to commit or make a monogamous relationship work. He copes with this knowledge by being an insufferable ass, even while his life coach does her best to get him to own his demons and exorcise them by confronting all his ex-girlfriends and getting their perspectives on his problem. Okay, problems. Plural. He's a whiny little bee-yotch with both a victim and God complex, and he is surrounded by the most obnoxious friends a guy could ask for, including the older brother from The Wonder Years. It's awesome watching his ex-girlfriends reunite and look at him with the same kind of thinly veiled gleeful pity you'd reserve for a serial dog murderer sentenced to the chair.

Moment when I realized I love this show: When I first read the title.

• Rock Life: Follow crappy Black Crowes knockoff band Whitestarr as they try to justify that extra 'R' with hardcore rock 'n' roll stupidity. I've decided that if I ever decide to off myself, it will be by taking a shot of tequila every time someone on this show says "bro." Perhaps if you'd like to play a drinking game and not die, you could switch the operative word to "dude." Lead singer Cisco Adler — who I had actually heard of somehow before seeing this show, though I do not recognize his face, which means I probably read some gossip item about him while procrastinating at work — and guitarist Rainbow show some serious mancrack throughout the entire show, proving that even some skinny dudes have body-image issues because THEY CANNOT FUCKING DRESS THEMSELVES IN PANTS THAT FIT. Somehow (probably because they suck), the band cannot manage to launch themselves into the spotlight for much longer than a second or two at a time, and as everyone knows, those seconds count toward your fifteen minutes. The audience finds itself getting increasingly pissed off at a band that whines about not being able to "make it," all while chillin' by the pool of their Malibu mansion, dickin' around on their laptops and Blackberries.

Moment when I realized I love this show: When I realized Whitestarr has a member of the band who does nothing but dance. And he's not the lead singer.

• The Pick-Up Artist: I've written a bit about this show over at iDiva, but that was before I had actually seen the show. Last night I caught the first episode. I have some comments. They have not reached scathing yet, though. First of all, Mystery is an attractive dude. Despite all the crap he accessorizes with, he's tall and slender and his face has a sharp yet soft quality to it that, I think, is considered conventionally attractive these days. Attractive people get laid no matter how shitty they act. So it's no big surprise to me that he convinces women at bars to hop into bed with him. Like others have pointed out, his "method" might not work so well were he to expand his sample size beyond the doors of the local boozin' hole. For the show's purposes, Mystery has employed his two wingmen — they have silly names, too: like J-Dog and Matador, I think — to help him prove to the contestants that anyone can corral tail if they say the right things. Matador and J-Dog look like morons (check the awesome skidmarks in J-Dog's hair). The contestants get makeovers to make them look less normal and more retarded. My theory is that the thinking behind this is to make these guys look ridiculous so they seem non-threatening. It's an interesting twist on how they already looked, though: As total dorks, they already looked non-threatening. But Mystery claims you have to peacock it: Dress up like a freak to make yourself interesting. Mmmkay. So far, the show purports to be about giving guys the tools to be confident and approach women. I'm all for that. I'll just be standing by, waiting for the inevitable moment when it becomes less about refining their own ability to interact socially and more about manipulation to serve as a means of conquering. One thing to note about this show: There are no black men who have been selected to receive Mystery's tutelage.

Moment when I realized I love this show: Haven't quite gotten there yet, though it's safe to say I don't HATE it yet.