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It’s House Season! (Alternatively Known as Why House Hunters Sucks)

April 5, 2017

HHMaybe you’ve seen this show called House Hunters. I’ve watched it myself a time or two and I don’t even know why, because house shopping ranks way up at the top of my list of things that I’d rather stick sharp things in my eyes than ever do again. Much like car shopping, high school, and giving birth.

Nonetheless, I often find myself in pajamas with no plans that involve real people, in front of the TV, flipping through eleventy hundred channels unable to find something that grabs my attention. That usually ends up with me watching the food channel or HGTV. And since I’m on a diet and don’t want to tempt myself with a Cupcake Wars marathon, that means I’m watching House Hunters or one of the other 800 variations of that program. Caribbean Life often makes me wonder why I’m still living in Ohio…but I digress.

So every episode of House Hunters follows the same exact formula. Obviously it’s a winning formula or else it still wouldn’t be on TV. But just once I’d like to see a variation. Just to spice things up. Watching House Hunters is like being married for 30 years. You like it OK, but every now and then you’d like to be surprised. Not like a visitor at the back door surprised, but more like a coming home to a bottle of chilled wine and a little wrapped box from the jewelry store kind of surprised.

Nonetheless, every episode has some couple where each one wants something distinctly different. He wants a modern industrial contemporary and she wants a charming Craftsman. I don’t care what planet you live on, there will never be a compromise to this. Someone is going to lose and forever be resentful about it. Let’s face it; they should’ve broken up on the third date. If you can’t decide on this, what makes you even think you can decide on how many kids to have? FFS.

And don’t you just want to slap those little bitches in the face when they say they have five kids and she makes organic, vegan candles and he’s a freelance performance artist and their budget is $1.8 million? They also need a yoga studio and room to grow their own vegetables, because the kids can’t eat anything that pesticide has been sprayed upon. This is the point when I think I am doing shit wrong working 40 hours a week for the man, hoping I can contribute to the college funds, running around to various activities, and lucky if I can provide a hot fast food dinner twice a week. The last time I bought a house in 2011, I had to provide 20 years worth of financial statements, proof I had money to pay the mortgage, a blood and urine sample, a video proving I could do the hula hoop, and an affidavit stating I’d give over my first born if I couldn’t make the payments. Just kidding about the affidavit.

After all that, they look at three houses. And she just can’t live with those dark granite countertops. He can’t fathom a life without double vanities. And God forbid the guest room has a tiny closet. This will just not do! Listen here you fucking spoiled brats. I’ve NEVER had countertops I could live with, not in 5 houses. NEVER. But guess what? I have those horrid countertops and I’m still alive. I mean I have to be friends with someone for a considerable amount of time before I invite them over for cocktails and tapas, and not one visit occurs without my now well versed “I hate these countertops” conversation. After a couple of cocktails, no one gives a shit about my countertops. Actually, no one ever gave a shit about my counter tops, except for me. And apparently, I don’t give enough of a shit about my countertops to change them. You know, because I like eating…and electric.

Yet after the 25 minutes of drama, they settle on their “perfect home” and couldn’t be happier. Those counter tops aren’t much of a bother and they love the extra time they get to spend together in the morning because they have to share a bathroom sink. You know neither one of them is happy. They’re just yucking it up for the camera.

The show I REALLY want to see is the one where they’re fighting over that crappy house during their divorce proceedings. Not only do they want that shitty house, but they want that fucking Journey CD from 1988 that they left in your car.

That would be totally worth spending a rainy day in PJ’s in front of the TV. And I’m putting HGTV on notice…if you make this show, you owe me some royalties.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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