Most people complain about Wednesday because it’s the stressful Hump Day, but they usually are quite relaxing for me. Two hours of mind-numbing Dawson’s Creek and the sultry Temptation Island allow me to rest every one of my brain cells.

After a couple of years on the Creek, the possible hookup opportunities between Joey, Jen, Dawson and Pacey have been exhausted. That is, until one of them realizes their homosexuality — but Jack has already filled the role as the token gay character. And why does every one in the quaint little town of Capeside have such an extensive vocabulary?

Despite the small flaws, every one can appreciate the sexual tension of beautiful people, which is also the whole basis of Temptation Island. Couples are separated for two weeks while horny, gorgeous members of the opposite sex are enticingly dangled in front of them and at times jump on them. Hmm, I wonder if they’ll stay faithful — hopefully not because infidelity would definitely get higher ratings.

Pundits say both shows demonstrate the degenerate state of profit-centered entertainment, which sells sex and attractive youth. These programs are promoting a promiscuous younger generation with unhealthy ideals of body weight. Outside the world of critics, guys ridicule the cheesy, overly dramatic plots of Dawson’s — if they admit watching it at all — and girls scoff in disgust at the short-lived fidelity of Billy as he flirts with his current airhead date.

All the allegations against these two shows are mostly accurate. Dawson’s Creek is guilty of some egregiously corny lines, especially between Joey and Pacey. But let me tell you, if a guy actually said some of Pacey’s winner lines, I’d be sold in a second. And what guy in his sexual prime would honor his unofficial bond to his current flame while surrounded by bombshells all wanting him?

Rationally considering the social corruption these shows represent, I unfailingly park myself in front of the four-inch TV in the “cozy” Lanman-Wright common room of friends, courtesy of the nonfunctional cable in my Vanderbilt room. (Official diagnosis by the cable repairman: “The cable is not attached to anything.”) All the vices condemned by critics — sex and youth — are the reasons why we consistently watch these “immoral” shows.

The guys I watch Dawson’s Creek with (don’t worry, I won’t divulge your names) yell at Pacey to “nail” Joey, while I tell them to shush so I can hear whatever Romeo-esque lines Pacey is uttering. The high intensity abates only slightly during the commercials and doesn’t end until the preview for the next episode is finished. But the guys sometimes get distracted by the seemingly more titillating allure of Mindsweeper.

Since the hiatus of Felicity, I am now hooked on Temptation Island, which if you ask me, questions the moral integrity of America. I only watch to observe the problems of our society and whether Mandy and Billy are going to make it. Did you see how Mandy totally enjoyed her body shots with John? Okay, I just enjoy checking out the buff bodies, but my official position is one of utter contempt for the deceitful setup for betrayal.

But Temptation Island is not really a novel idea; it’s a centuries-old story called college. It’s like throwing an unsuspecting, wide-eyed teenager into a world full of beautiful, intelligent members of the opposite sex, who are under the influence of hormones, alcohol and dreary New Haven weather. “I have a boy/girlfriend at home,” suddenly doesn’t mean as much as it did when you tearfully said goodbye at the airport. There’s not even the possibility your significant other will see video highlights of your most sordid moments. I don’t know what could be more tempting.

Still, the show’s premise with some 20 rabid singles placed on a tropical island to win your affections is a nice situation. I don’t know how many weekends I’ve wished for a line of handsome, buff and intelligent (oh well, two out of three ain’t bad) men trying to sweep me off my feet and go on a “power date.” Being on a tropical island with white sand beaches wouldn’t hurt either. Back to earth — or New Haven — Nicole.

Until the sun starts setting after five, and I get to see my legs in daylight again, I hope the verbose cliches of Dawson’s Creek and bountiful amounts of bronzed skin on Temptation Island can pull me through those dull Wednesdays.

Nicole Lim is a freshman in Berkeley College.