Freshmen Carla Carballo and Alesia Casanova watch the premiere of \”College Life\” in Liz Waters.[/media-credit]

Hey, do you want to know what college is like?

What’s that? You say you’re a high school student who forgot what school you applied to after Spencer’s latest blowout with Heidi wiped your mind of all memories in the last week?

Hmm. Well, do you want to ride on the fumes of a Midwest-based “Hills” with fairly boring people and “Cloverfield” with keg stands camerawork?

Yeah, I don’t really either. But, like most things on MTV, “College Life” was expected to be the 30-car pileup placed right on the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus. Dean of Students Lori Berquam derided it, future Witte YouTube stars proclaimed their fame as they appeared in 10 seconds of it (are you the friend who lived down the hall, or were you the girl at the party between that other girl and the blurred out guy?), and everyone else who was just the least bit curious at least looked at the promo.

So, fine. I took the bait. I went to Liz Waters, sat down with a few sophomores and freshmen as I awkwardly tried to avoid being noticed as an intruder. I sat there and watched UW students watch UW students filming themselves.

And they’re laughing from the start.

“This show is not endorsed by the University of Wisconsin-Madison.”

And that’s important later. You don’t know it, but that’s the real flaw of “College Life.”

We’re introduced to four students — half-Jamaican Jordan, your token minority, and it shows. Jordan seems relatively normal from the outset, which means every time the cameras catch up with him, the audience has to remember he existed, since he gets about 15 percent of the show’s running time. Apparently he’ll get a tattoo later and things will shake up, but for now, MTV seems to make him an afterthought. The audience notices, but before they can comment, another minority pops up.

Conservative Christian Andrea. Now we’re getting somewhere. She obviously lives in the Southeast dorms, possibly Witte, judging from her opening, but it doesn’t matter, because the drama unfolds quickly. Ex-boyfriend Josh still loves her, according to the annoying, superimposed MTV commentary? Show me more, “College Life!”

There’s Alex, a Texas innocent who likes boys. And Kevin. He likes partying. That’s about it for now.

So here’s the show in 75 words: “Jordan is black, he mentions it, doesn’t really pay attention to it. Also hates sports. Alex likes a boy with a blurred-out name, thinks he’s so perfect. Except he’s a douche bag. Alex is done with boys. Andrea has dinner with her ex. Andrea watches “One Tree Hill” off camera. Andrea likes a boy who’s not her ex. Her ex says 15 words. Kevin drinks. Gets busted by house fellows. Drinks more. Fails Calc.”

Oh, that was only 74. Ok, here’s one more: “Garbage.”

But that’s OK, because Liz Waters loves it, for the most part.

“This is great already!”

“They would never get someone from Lakeshore, of course.”

Another chimes in, “Well, of course, they wouldn’t have anyone to talk to, it’d be a dull show.”

It’s all pointing and eye rolling, until the ad-laden handheld show ends with a few clips of future moments. Drama! Angst! Nausea!

Trash sells, but not everything MTV does is this shameless.

Take for instance the “True Life: I’m a [insert sub-section of American life here]” series. They’re mini-documentaries mainly used to fill spaces and justify playing indie music on MTV, but they’re fairly well-done slices of life that do provoke some thought. Does the pressure of the wrestling industry lead to steroids use? Is the rap industry misogynistic?

That done over a season with college students would have been great.

Instead, we get questions like, “How many drunks can you fit in 322 B?” “Wait, is this Jordan kid actually in the show?” and “Do these guys actually go to school?”

And that’s the problem with “College Life.”

“This show is not endorsed by the University of Wisconsin-Madison.”

Because they had to take out references to buildings, couldn’t shoot film in class, and have 75 percent of the frame taken up by the participants’ faces, we’re basically watching muffled adolescent crises we could have found more entertaining by hitting the bars ourselves.

This isn’t College Life. It’s 20-Something Drinking Makeout Party. And frankly, you could have a keg on Mifflin, charge for cups and film that, post it on YouTube and end up with something more entertaining and less vomit-inducing.

Especially without all those Clearasil ads.