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Tonight could go down in trash tv history with three of the trashiest shows imaginable all hitting the airwaves. Lucky for you, you have Trashwire to recap all the train-wreck mayhem. Think of this as a triple serving of Trashwire’s special reality tv coverage.

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White Oprah also began her show by talking about how she’s a single parent. When will Hollywood shut the hell up about being single parents? Guess what, my mom was a single parent and I certainly didn’t have celebrity money, but I survived!

Just like with Denise Richards’ show, Dina flipped through the tabloids talking about how the press is so psycho over her family. It must be part of the E! formula to try to justify the fame level of their reality subjects to try to convince us that they’re worthy of their own series.

This entire show is clearly a vehicle to launch the career of Ali, Lindsay’s younger sister. Unfortunately, Ali isn’t as wild, talented, or interesting as her sister and her mother will seemingly battle her to the death for the spotlight.

The basis for the first episode was Ali’s music career. After receiving some tracks from her label, Ali was displeased and wanted to move in a different creative direction. Enter Dina’s associate Jeremy, a hip hop producer (I guess) who brought her some new “urban” songs that she loved.

Of course, Dina can’t stand not being the center of attention for too long and before you could say “disaster” we had switched focus to Dina battling to clear Lindsay’s name once again. You know, for as much as she claims to hate the tabloids, she sue does devote a shit load of attention to talking about them on her show.

The whole series borders on disturbing and you can’t help but feel dirty when watching it. When Ali explains that Lindsay is her biggest role model, you feel like you’re watching some kind of creepy exploitative kiddie porn. Take a scene where Dina is looking up a story about an alleged Lindsay Lohan sex tape on the internet. The story is complete with a still from the video of Lindsay going down on a guy. When Ali enters the room, Dina shows her the picture and they both remark that it can’t be Lindsay and talk about suing the site. Does anyone besides me think it’s weird that Dina showed her daughter a picture of Lindsay blowing a guy (allegedly)? I don’t think even Michael Jackson is THAT bad of a parent!

In a way, it’s fantastically trashy and fun to watch something this absolutely insane, but at the same time, I’m not sure if even we at Trashwire should be condoning this type of train-wreck series.

It’s a lot like eavesdropping on child abuse. Like when you can hear a neighbor beating their children, so you call the cops and then put your ear to the wall to hear what happens.

It seems like the premise of the show is going to be Denise Richards trying to find love as a single mom actress in LA. Instead, it looked like the same scripted trash-fest masquerading as reality that you see on every other celebreality series on the planet.

In the first episode, we met Denise’s family and her two assistants. All her attempts to seem like a down to earth celeb were pretty much ruined when she was a rude barking diva to everyone within range of her. She’s either going for an Osbournes style “foul-mouthed but funny” vibe or she’s just a total bitch who likes to cuss people out.

What a surprise, she even had a segment where she and her assistants sat around a computer talking about all the Denise Richards celebrity gossip on the net. I think she’s overestimating her own celebrity, because Denise Richards isn’t really in anyone’s thoughts as much as she thinks she is. We have Britney Spears to gossip about, not some chick who used to be married to Charlie Sheen and was famous because she took her top off and made out with a chick in a movie ten years ago!

In another painfully set up running theme, Denise is set up on a blind date by her best friend. This is all intercut with a b-plot about Denise trying to find sperm to get her pet pig pregnant. I’m not quite sure what connection the producers were trying to get us to make there.

On her date, Denise coldly stares down the guy and snippily replies to his questions about her personal life. Then when he says he liked Matt Dillion’s acting instead of fawning over her lesbo scene in Wild Things she gets insulted and accuses him of being gay.

It feels like this Denise is trying to gear this whole production towards being some kind of career vehicle for her, but she can’t really decide what kind of character she wants to make herself. Is she a struggling single mom? A family woman who bonds with her recently widowed father? A sexpot looking for a “hot guy with a big dick”? An animal lover and pig breeder? What are we supposed to take from this?

The best reality shows are either those like Big Brother that offer genuinely real human behavior or more scripted programs with clear cut characters and plots. Denise Richards: It’s Complicated seems to be neither.

I’m just not sure if this series is actually watchable. I’d compare it to Keeping Up with the Karsahians in that it’s just so scripted and cheesy that it’s not even worthy of the title of reality tv.

First, the beautiful but bat-shit crazy Denise Richards will star in her own reality series, Denise Richards: It’s Complicated. Pop culture fanatics will remember Denise and ex-husband Charlie Sheen fighting about the inclusion of their young daughters in the series. The show kicks off at 10PM est.

Right after that, hold on to your f-ing hats! It’s White Oprah herself, Dina Lohan’s new series Living Lohan. I’m willing to wager that this series will be more trashy than The Anna Nicole Show, Celebrity Rehab, and Britney and Kevin: Chaotic combined!

You know we’ll be watching!

Aaron Carter is reportedly heading to VH1’s Celebrity Rehab show.

Nothing like trying to revive your non-existent career by admitting that your an addict and agreeing to let your treatment be filmed for our “amusement”!

Carter was busted for driving around with 2 ounces of pot in Texas a few months ago.

Way to make lemonade out of that lemon, Nick!

He must be missing the cameras post House of Carter!

Former Hollywood madame Heidi Fleiss and Skid Row’s Sebastian Bach are confirmed for the Dr. Drew treatment on Rehab.

The show starts filming in June, so we should be hearing some sort of confirmation regarding Aaron’s participation soon.

I just don’t know how to feel about this. Aaron Carter is a total trainwreck and that’ always fun to watch, but the thought of another season of Celebrity Rehab makes me feel dirty.

The show, which aires Thursdays at 10/9c, showcases Abdul as she pretends to be a gracious, sweet, and clever star who treats her staff with respect like some kind of princess and seals large-scale business deals at important meetings. At least that’s probably what Paula thinks it’s about.

In reality, this show might be more harmful to a career than Being Bobby Brown and Britney and Kevin: Chaotic combined.

In the first episode, Abdul attends the Grammy Awards and prays that her black and white Valentino gown will finally get her off the worst dressed list. Immediately after the awards, she heads off to QVC to check out her new jewelry line, but not before she berates her assistants for apparently bringing the wrong sweatpants and tennis shoes for her to wear on the plane.

Her mood changes like the wind. One minute, she’s cheery and putting $200K borrowed necklaces on her dog as it runs around the house, the next minute she’s throwing a tantrum like a five-year-old because her assistants brought the black tennis shoes and not the white ones.

At QVC, things only get worse. Abdul describes her passion for designing jewelry and explains that her creations really reflect who she is. Unfortunately, the samples she is presented at the meeting don’t match the ones in her head and she throws yet another fit. The horrified QVC employees try to calm her down and explain that the designs are in fact the same. You have to sympathize with these people because they’re tying to work out a business deal with a woman that probably can’t even tie her own shoes.

Next, Abdul accepts an award, throwing her pre-written speech aside and opting to improvise. Not a good choice. She rambles incoherently like a homeless person in an alley, all the while thinking she’s making perfect sense. It’s very clear that no one around her has any idea what the hell she’s talking about, but doesn’t have the heart to tell her that.

After this, Adbul goes to work on a new perfume, visiting a laboratory and testing out different scents. She even dawns a lab coat a la Tara Reid in Alone in the Dark and says she looks “like a mad scientist.” At one point, she crawls around a bit on the floor trying to pick up a sample stick and giggles like a cartoon character as she rubs the scent on her skin.

In the car ride back to her hotel, she twitches like Air Force Amy and continues her incoherent rambling as her staff sits quietly and tries to decided how to react.

Then, the ultimate Paula Abdul interview begins. By now, I trust that most people have seen the infamous interviews she did with local morning news shows where she behaved so erratically that it sparked a flood of media speculation about her drug or alcohol problems. Even her publicist remarks that she stopped paying attention to the questions and, “Her answers are getting more and more erratic.” He even lamented that the whole incident would cause a lot of bad press just before a montage of the various pop culture commentators remarking how she looks like a total drunk/drug addict.

Abdul and her staff try to brush off the incident like it was just the result of lack of sleep, but it’s painfully clear that something’s definitely up.

I found the whole show shocking and uncomfortable. I felt embarrassed for her while I was watching it. It’s rare that you see a celebrity so epically humiliate him/herself and it was almost too much to handle. With stars like Anna Nicole Smith or Bobby Brown, it seemed they were in on the joke. With Abdul, you doubt she’s even coherent enough to understand that she’s on TV.

Her corny jokes seem like they were scripted by a bad award show writer and she repeats them over and over, laughing hysterically to herself as everyone else around her sits stone-faced. She has all the awkwardness of Dax Flame with none of the forgivable innocence.

Paula’s assistants and publicist try their best to excuse her behavior, but the damage is already done. The entire show seems like a PR move that has horribly backfired. This doesn’t make me like her more, it only makes me feel sorry for everyone who has to be around her. The entire thing plays out like a warped version of The Anna Nicole Show, with Abdul staggering around, muttering in her slurred and incoherent speech, and with a once-beautiful face that now seems slightly askew, perhaps altered by botched plastic surgery.

I can only imagine how Hey Paula will affect her career. With her life so heavily regulated by others, you wonder why anyone would let her do this.

VH1 seems to be the new home for model shows, airing The Agency, the Australian version of Top Model and marathon block reruns of the original Top Model. Sadly, every day can’t be Christmas and not all of these shows are worth checking out.

The Agency failed to impress me because I completely lost interest in everyone involved after a few minutes. There’s the bitchy lady with an accent, the guy who yells at people, and tons of stick-thin kids trying to break into the business. Still, nothing about that is inherently appealing when you consider what else is on tv. If I wanted to watch a guy tear down someone’s dreams, I have American Idol, who practically invented that formula. If I want to see someone make models cry and tell them they’re too fat to be in the business, I have the deliciously guilty pleasure of flipping over to Oxygen for The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency.

Nothing on The Agency reinvents the wheel. It’s just another behind-the-scenes show about running a business, something already saturating tv. What The Agency lacks is any sort of major competition to play up the drama for tv. There are no challenges, no elimination segments, no bonus prizes. All we’re left with is some crazy people running around an office saying that the modeling industry is tough and we’re supposed to feel that’s competition enough to captivate us.

Australia’s Next Top Model is like an artificial sweetener that can’t quite match the flavor of real sugar. The pool of contestants lacks any kind of diversity, and I don’t mean just racially. All the girls look very similar, pose the same, walk the same, and act the same. It’s hard to pick a favorite when they all seem to be carbon copies of each other. Even host Erika Henyatz lacks the egomaniacal appeal of Tyra Banks, the H.B.I.C. on the original American version of the show. Henyatz is actually supportive of the girls, giving them advice, sympathizing with them, and not desperately trying every minute to shift the focus of the show from the competition to herself like Banks does every episode. Unfortunately, this makes the show lack the guilty pleasure factor. It loses the trashy reality title and just becomes another reality show about the modeling industry.

Oxygen’s The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency, on the other hand, gives Top Model a run for it’s money in the guilty pleasure department. The show chronicles Janice Dickenson, self-proclaimed World’s First Supermodel, as she starts her own agency in California. It follows Dickenson as she recruits new models, brings in new clients, struggles to balance her more commercial models and her high-fashion division, gets into fights with her business partner, and tries to keep the agency’s head above water.

The show made the right move in focusing on the same set of models again and again because it establishes characters and favorites. You’re never staring at a line up of all new faces trying to decide whether you even care if these people land the job. Instead, you’re rooting for Stina, an exotic beauty who Dickenson has exceptionally high expectations for and constantly tears down. You’re feeling bad for Andrew when, despite his efforts, his best friend Chris keeps booking all the jobs instead. You’re even getting into the tension between the first season models and the new crop of pretty faces from season two.

While there’s no set competition, the show manages to succeed where The Agency fails because there is enough drama with Dickenson and the moody crop of models to carry the program through it’s seasons.

While Dickenson knocks it out of the park in the diva host department, there’s one guilty pleasure show that raises the bar for bitchiness. America’s Next Top Model is the OG of modeling shows.

When I think about all the modeling shows out there and what makes them succeed or stumble, the main factor is the people involved. Most of the shows follow the same formula. Hell, Australia’s Next Top Model is an exact clone, yet without the insane cast of characters, it just doesn’t hold a candle to the original. There is so much two-faced back stabbing, so much behind-the-back bitchiness, and so much drama in the house that there’s rarely a dull moment.

Especially interesting is the way the show shapes and develops it’s “characters”. In the beginning, the girls usually start out the same and Banks rules the roost with her all-about-me attitude. After a few more episodes, the claws come out and the girls start fighting in the house, tearing each other to shreds in their confessional interviews, and sabotaging each other during shoots.

This year bitchy torch has been passed to Renee, a 20-year-old stay-at-home mom from Maui. She put it best herself when asked by shoot director Jay Manuel why none of the other girls like her saying, “Because I’m a bitch.” Renee conducts herself with a bipolar demeanor that’s fascinating to watch. One minute, she’ll say that she wants to shed her bitchy image and start getting along with the other models. Then the next she’ll tell plus-sized contestant Whitney that there will never be a fat girl as the next top model or criticize Latina beauty Jaslene for being too perfect. The best part about Renee’s psychotic mood swings is the way they do nothing but reveal how jealous and insecure she truly is. It’s more transparent then when a five-year-old tells you they don’t know who drew in crayon all over the wall.

Still, even though contestants like Renee and Jael, a quirky punk rock girl, are fun to watch, the real reason Top Model is so much fun is because of Banks herself. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t know that I’ll ever get tired of watching her spin every single subject into a Trya-centric rant about how fantastic she is or how much she has done for black women, modeling, the world, etc. She seems to think of herself as some kind of modeling Martin Luther King Jr.

The “inspiration” she offers to the girls consists of stories about herself and how she “overcame” her own struggles. All her tips involve striking a pose herself and then instructing, “Do it like me.” Even on episodes where she’s supposed to meet with the girls one-on-one for a cry-fest, she manages to turn their personal troubles into a story about how great she thinks she is. Witnessing her ego growing to epic proportions is absolutely astounding, and it’s hard to look away. It’s made especially fun because I keep wondering when one of the models will snap and say, “Could you stop talking about yourself for five minutes?!”

Top Model is the top of the line in guilty pleasure reality shows. It’s completely addictive, but you don’t want anyone to know you watch it. The very idea of tuning in and supporting Banks’ shrine to herself could turn anyone’s stomach, but the models, the photo shoots, and the tension of the competition are enough to keep anyone watching. It may only fuel her gargantuan ego, but Banks’ Top Model is definitely the best model show on tv.