My friends have me so mad at them.

A few weeks ago, the two of them started talking more and more about the TV show, “Big Brother.”

I couldn’t stand it because I knew they might suck me into watching it. I resisted as hard as I could, but then I found myself home alone one night and I landed on CBS as I flipped channels.

I was hooked.

This isn’t the first time I have found myself slightly obsessed with this particular reality show. I remember plopping down on the couch for the first-ever episode in 2000. I had a lot more time on my hands then because Bridget was still a month away from arriving.

I normally don’t get interested in reality shows. The only ones I have ever really watched regularly are ones like “Joe Schmo” and “My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance” where the joke is on the contestants. I enjoy schadenfreude that way.

Big Brother had a different appeal though. The whole point is to make friendships – I refuse to use the word alliance – and manipulate people’s perceptions so you can avoid the weekly “evictions” and ultimately have the people kicked out think you are worthy of the grand prize.

I like the show because I know I could do it. I pretty much lived that way my entire life. I was born to win “Big Brother.”

People in the house say mean things to each other and make fun of others’ shortcomings to try and gain an upper hand. I had four older brothers. You think I could really be bothered by something a waitress from Topeka would say about me?

Houseguests have to take part in physical and mental challenges in order to win special privileges in the house. I may not be the strongest guy or the smartest guy, but I had to sit at the dinner table with seven siblings. I’m used to finding cunning ways to get what I want.

The ultimate winner has to have that kind of savvy and still have people like them. I still manage to have a good relationship with everyone in my family despite getting the abuse the youngest in a big family gets. I think I can handle a dozen strangers.

My training for the show didn’t end when I left for college; I lived in a fraternity house for three years. That was a piece of cake compared to living at home.

So what if I had 40-some guys under the same roof to try and keep on my side. They didn’t have the dirt on me like my family did.

My college experience helped prepare me for living with pretty much any personal habit. After all, a guy named “Stinky” lived in the house. I can handle anything.

So maybe I’ll try out for the show one of these years and show off my skills. I just hope my friends aren’t also picked to play. They obviously know my weaknesses.