Ally Weinberg

Recently I said F-Bye to Bachelor Nation and F-Hi to FBoy Island and I have no regrets.
I used to live in a community that proudly calls itself “Bachelor Nation.” It cherishes all things Bachelor, Bachelorette, Bachelor in Paradise, the list goes on. The population spans demographics, but seems to particularly speak to millennial white women raised on Hallmark movies and Hilary Duff. No shade, I am all of those things.

Do you ever watch a reality occu-soap and think, “That’s the job I should have!” Well, here are the top ten careers I think I want based solely on watching reality television.

If you know me, you know I’m pro-therapy. I’m like the Oprah of evangelizing about therapy, “You get a therapist, you get a therapist, everyone gets a therapist!” It’s probably no surprise then that I’m a proponent of therapy on reality television.
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My own therapist is skeptical about therapy on TV and I’m sure her concerns are valid – she’s a really good therapist! But setting aside HIPPA issues for the momen...

We are truly living in a time of Peak Red Flag Reality TV. Whether it’s questionable relationships or entire relationships built on a question (“Is love blind?”), we’re in the golden era of relationship shows chock full of red flags and I could not be happier.
Here is a top ten list of relationships to watch if you’re new to red flag reality television.

This is the week that we chose chaos. No, I’m not talking about the slap heard around the world. I’m talking about Bravos’s Summer House, Below Deck Sailing Yacht, and Below Deck Down Under. Chaos came for us all and I’m not mad at it.

We need to talk about To Be Continued…My love and adoration for Bravo is well documented. Whether it’s Housewives, Hamptons, or Sailing Yachts, I. AM. THERE.
But there is something that we desperately need to talk about. The Real Housewives of New Jersey has a problem. And that problem is “To Be Continued…”

This show is wild. The new Discovery+ series, Love Off the Grid is the perfect combination of Naked and Afraid and 90 Day Fiancee. It blends TLC and Discovery’s best programming into the show I never knew I needed and now don’t want t...

Do you have a friend who is overwhelmed with their job, relationship, or kids during this Ye Olde Pandemic? Are they sick and tired of another potential Dumpster Fire year? Maybe you’re that friend. Well, here are the ten shows that go in my “Reality TV Care Package.” I’m sending it right over!

Some days I just have to give blessings and thanks for the institution that is Bravo. I work in reality tv programming and you would think that binging Bravo would be like an accountant relaxing by doing math equations for s*** and giggles. But Bravo is its own beast (a beautiful, beautiful beast!) and without it, I’m not sure I would have made it this far into these Unprecedented Times.

It seems so naive now. In the days before the election, I sarcastically wrote on our fridge’s “to-do” calendar, “Move to Canada if Trump wins.” The silly remark was placed next to a reminder about voting and a chiropractor appointment. If I do a deep dive into my social media, I can still look at the photo and the joking comments of like-minded friends below it.

My daughter has an imaginary sibling. Actually, let me be more specific. My daughter told me today that she has three sisters and three brothers. Sometimes it’s just a brother and sister. Sometimes there’s a baby in the mix. Most of the time, they’re her pretend older siblings, and they often live in the mountains or on Mars. One of them usually goes to something called a “Halloween School.” The truth is, my daughter is an only child, and there’s a 99.9 percent chance she will always be an only child.

If you’re a mom and you’re anything like me, you’re pretty much convinced that you happened to give birth to the most beautiful baby on Earth. For me, that not only meant weird lapses where I stared at her like a crazed mommy stalker. It also meant that I had flat-head-blindness.

When my daughter was just three months old, our pediatrician noticed a little bit of a flat spot on her head. My response? “She’s perfect, shut up!”

I have always had what my parents called a “slow-to-warm” attitude. I’d rather hang out with my two best friends or my husband than make small talk with twenty people. I have an aversion to public speaking and hate talking on the phone. I need a respite from humanity each day. I need my time to recharge.

“Smile.” The request elicits two very dichotomous reactions from me: a pavlovian need to smile and a simultaneous “F*** You!”

Television moms have been an essential part of our social fabric since we first turned that sucker on and tuned in. June Cleaver, Carol Brady, Clair Huxtable, Marge Simpson, Elyse Keaton, Angela Bower, Roseanne Connor; they’ve become America’s moms. Now that I’m a mom, I’m having trouble finding much in common with the women who raised me, whether in first-run episodes or syndication.