Moutains out of Mole Hills

The last time I wrote about The Hills I covered the series premier. I called Lauren Conrad "the Kelly Taylor to Kristin Cavallari's beautifully bitchy Brenda Walsh," and predicted that LC was far too boring to carry a spin-off of her own.

Clearly, I was dead wrong.

The Hills have swept the nation, myself included. And as the third season premiered earlier this evening, LC, Heidi, and even that pig Spencer have become household names (in large part to their self-driven media debacles, but that's beside the point).

In watching the first two episodes, several variables have changed:

Lauren has discovered booze, Heidi has discovered cocaine, and the entire cast have apparently discovered that there are cameras documenting their every move (we're not exactly sure what took them so long).

The result can be described in one word: awkward. In watching these episodes my feelings of discomfort nearly rivaled the overwhelming sense of physical disgust that I am subjected to each time I'm forced to look at Spencer.

Final Word: I hated it. But I'll still tune in every Monday at 10pm, or at least my TiVo will. My guilty pleasure just got slightly less pleasurable. But then again, was it ever?