I’m back working in a school. With this, comes the beautiful, beautiful schedule that I call “teacher schedule.” It’s the envy of all working adults and includes copious vacation time and the option to take the summer off from work. I started my new job and worked for about a week before they awarded me a week’s vacation before the start of the summer session. These 5 days equaled about the same amount of vacation time I had all of last year so I was especially grateful. This left me with some free time during the day that I wasn’t used to. Between rounds of golf and my first camping trip ever, I sat my pale ass on the couch to watch some daytime TV. So many things I’ve missed!
Forgot how wacky this show is. Now, believe it or not, I really empathize with these wing-nuts who collect trash and fill their homes with lawn gnomes. Maybe it’s the inner demon in myself, but I’m not going to be the one to judge somebody else’s version of crazy. I finished 5 seasons of The Good Wife in about three weeks so I can’t be putting myself up on any type of moral pedestal. Nevertheless, the show is a glimpse into the bizarre and I fucking love it. But I can guarantee what I find funny is not something you’ve thought about. It’s this: the goddamn clinical psychologists that go into the homes WEARING BEAUTIFUL OUTFITS. IRONED PANT-SUITS into a home that rats would run away from?! I was befuddled as this lady walks into a home of the craziest Elvis collector that is not named Nicholas Cage. The house (of course) is WALL TO WALL trash and wallpapered with magazine cut-outs of Elvis-Is-Alive sightings. Meanwhile, this educated broad steps in wearing heels and a black pant suit.
Listen lady. Coming from someone who worked in the field of disgusting homes, I’ll divulge this little nugget: DRESS THE PART. I’d wear jeans (hard to bite through), a $10 dollar zip-up from Old Navy, and some shitty sneakers that I could sprint in. That was the uniform. You on the other hand, working primarily with the greatest hoarders in our nation, come dressed to the nines, tip-toeing through Burger King wrappers and moldy bread. Now, I get that you need to bring some sort of professional credibility to these homes but I really don’t think you’re going to get judged too harshly by Elvis-guy and my personal favorite–the guy who hoarded dead cats. NO WAY you can wear that pant suit again that week after being in there for 10 minutes. Gross. Do you have 7 pant suits lined up in your closet, Hillary Clinton? I hope so! Are they all the same kind like Doug Funny had? Buy some glorified sweat pants and get down to their level. You’re making them anxious and you know they already are devastatingly nervous about throwing out all their coveted trash.
I clicked over to Cash Cab in between Hoarding Elvis and I forgot what a trap this show is. Fast-paced trivia in a van that lights up? Yep. Poof. There goes an hour not being active. Now, part of the intrigue for me is the cast of characters that hop into the creepy van. But there are other intricacies of the show that REALLY leave me with lots of questions:
1.) Whenever someone uses the “phone-a-friend” life-line, this is the standard conversation:
Hi, Jim! I’m on Cash Cab and I need to ask you a question. What…
Blue Whale is CORRECT! 200 dollars!
Now this just seems way to perfect for me. If I were to call my friend, here are the two scenarios:
1.) He doesn’t pick up. MAYBE texts me back, “what’s up?”
2.) “WHAT!?! YOU’RE ON CASH CAB?! WHO ARE YOU WITH? HOW MUCH MONEY HAVE YOU WON? WAIT, YOU’RE IN NEW YORK? SINCE WHEN? IS ADRIANA WITH YOU?
No money won.
The OTHER thing that gets me is how on Google Earth does the driver maneuver through New York City WHILE reciting questions? Is someone giving him the questions in that ear-piece and is that even legal? He’s making witty remarks to the people, keeping an arbitrary timer going, and still obeys the common street laws? Are you serious? EVERY time I’m alone in my car and hear an ambulance I shut off the music entirely and freeze like I did something wrong. It’s a Pavlovian response I just can’t shake but Ben Bailey apparently went through ninja training and doesn’t have my problem.
WHAT’S IN THE BARN?
This show was a new one for me and illustrated nicely how there really is a show about every single thing these days. The premise was simple: a guy goes looking at people’s barns to find old antiques that he finds rare and neat. The only interesting thing to me was how fascinated and passionate this guy was about random things. I mean, I like anyone who is passionate about things but having a crazy drive (ahem) for ENGINES…I mean, it seems like a waste of time to me. But you know what’s a waste of time? Watching a show about a guy who wastes his time looking for rare engines. The man literally traveled across the country to this Asian man’s home to seek out a rare engine. Who funds this shit? And who do I talk to about traveling across the world to compete in a Saved by the Bell trivia contest? The duck episode–yeah, Becky was the name of that duck. Somebody take me to the actual Cape Side depicted so beautifully in Dawson’s Creek. Just kidding. Everyone knows Cape Side is a fictional town in Massachusetts. Ok, not everyone but The Tub saves you the effort of Googling that shit.
I hope this isn’t a waste of time.
Oh. No. I’m like the engine-guy. I’m the hot tub version of the engine-guy, aren’t I? This is horrible. Real-time epiphany going on right now and I don’t like it one bit.