Wednesday, May 8, 2013

House Hunters: Part 2

I never set out to spend my life writing blog entries about the HGTV show House Hunters. In fact, I never even set out to watch House Hunters, but sometimes life throws you a curve-ball and you've just gotta roll with the punches, make lemonade, keep-on-keeping on, and write a goddam blog where you complain about the peoples on the television.

So here we go. House Hunters. Again.

Today was a good day. I went to work, wrote some stuff, bound a book (yep, I do that), had a meeting with some good people about possibly organizing a community garden in the city where I live, and got to check out the truly epic garden of one of my fellow plant-folks. All in all, I couldn't ask for more.

But then, I sit down, start reading, and I notice that the teevee's been left on. House Hunters is on. I try not to look.

"Focus on the reading," I say to myself. "Don't look at it."

Turning off the television sounds like a really great idea, but jesus christ, the remote is way over on the other side of the room. C'mon now, cut me some slack. You saw all that shit I did today. I get tired.

I watch in horror as a couple shops for a house. He is a car dealer, she is a nurse. They are driving an expensive boat -- which they refer to as a "Party Barge" -- around a lake, searching for a new home. The budget is $460,000.00 and they have the standard list of silly rich-people requirements for any property they buy:


  • It's gotta be on the water. Having formerly lived in Florida, the couple has long dreamed of the "water lifestyle" that was out of their reach previously. 
  • It can't be full of knotty-pine wood, because Jesus, can you imagine? 
  • It's gotta have four bedrooms -- for two people. 
As they explore houses, they immediately launch in to the typical caddy bullshit that you find in the loveless fucks typically featured on the show. 

"I need a place to put a wide screen television," he says. 

"We're not doing that," she replies. "We're buying a house on the water so we can stare at the water." 

"Well, we'll see," he says. (The famous final refuge of a male on the losing end of an argument.) 

Turning to the camera, she addresses us directly: "I think we should be having conversations in the living room. I think he should be paying attention to me." 

He, in a brilliant moment of high-definition honesty, rolls his eyes, clearly praying for a bullet to end one of their lives and spare him the further misery of living this hellish existence. 

It's clear by now that we've obviously got a very loving couple on our hands. 

  • No discussion on big decisions relating to household layout? Check. 
  • Complete dismissal of your life-partner's opinions? Check. 
  • Bald face hatred? Check. 
I toyed with the idea of adding "a lack of attention" to the list, but I wasn't sure it fit. After all, these people are both complete dildos; sure, he sucks if he's not paying attention, which is completely possible, but she also sucks equally if she's lying about it. It's one of those rare situations that spares you the effort of shuffling through a lot of moral complexity to make a decision. 

About now I'm wishing a giant, cartoonish anvil would fall from the sky and squash them both. She, as though sensing my wish, doubles down by insisting that the absence of a walk-in closet is a deal breaker. My blood pressure ticks up a few points as I think about the fact that this woman is insisting on having a closet -- a place to store shit -- that would work out to be bigger than the bedroom I sleep in. It's not because I'm jealous, which would be way easier -- it's because, for chrissakes lady, how much bullshit do you need? 

How many rooms do we need to house our visitors? How many closets do we need to hold our clothes? Am I the only one that finds this completely insane? 

It occurs to me that we're like a race of prize animals with the shittiest pedigree ever: we're born and bred to consume. Every niche must be filled, no situation can be ignored or discounted. Is there a possibility that relatives might visit? You'll need a dedicated bedroom for that. You'll need a walk-in closet because you own a pair of shoes for every color of the douchebag rainbow. You wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of penny loafers that didn't perfectly compliment your Haggar slacks; foibles like that are best left to the homeless and the residents of third-world countries.

It's incredible. Marginal talent, megabucks, and a preternatural ability to be a persnickety asswipe that has the time -- the INCREDIBLE AMOUNTS OF TIME -- to devote thought to the fact that you want a "water lifestyle." Picture it. Try to be mad. You can't. It's all too amazing. Like Ron Burgundy reeling at the fact that Baxter at the entire wheel of cheese, we can't be moved to anger because we're too impressed. 

My daydreaming is interrupted again, this time because he and she are complaining about the size of the bathroom. The entrance to the shower is a bit low, which prompts her to ask the question: "Look at this! How will you get IN here?" 

Surprisingly, he ducks the short door frame, just like a real person. Even so, he validates her concerns by pronouncing the bathroom impossibly small. 

Now, I wonder how much these people shit. My bathroom is possibly the most neglected room in my house, if you're looking at things in terms of cold, hard numbers. I sleep in the bedroom for eight hours a night; I'm in the living room writing for most of the evening; the Lady Otter and I have even been known to have a conversation in the kitchen from time to time. 

Never once have we done anything together in the bathroom. Maybe we're too traditional? 

Did they buy the house? Who knows. I was too far gone to pay attention by that point. 

Now I need to sleep it off. 

Good night, my fellow Anti House-Hunters. 

3 comments:

  1. You've really got to admire the realtors on these shows, though. I mean, they keep such straight faces when these idiots act up like spoiled children. I'm not sure Keanu Reeves could do that. It takes talent! Well, that, and a healthy fear of jailtime for aggravated murder...

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  2. Absolutely. I'd be willing to bet there are soul-deadening drugs involved as well.

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  3. I'm not sure HGTV pays well enough for them to afford that quantity of drugs.

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