Reasons Why House Hunting Shows Send Me Into a Blind Rage

At some point in my life, I’d like to buy a house. We’ve been renting forever and each month when we pay rent, it feels like we’re pissing money down a drain that leads to our landlord’s indoor pool, where the piss money turns into gold coins and cash like Scrooge McDuck had on Ducktales. For that reason, I hate paying rent and I hate ducks as well.

So I like to dream that one day, we’ll have our own dream home and have plenty of money to buy the one we want, just like the people on these house hunting shows. But whenever I watch these house hunting shows, I lose sight of why I was watching in the first place and just end up on the verge of an angry nervous breakdown because of how badly I hate these unrelatable asshole couples that are buying these homes.

First off, where the fuck do these people get these budgets? “Well, Kierstin and I only have a budget of $800,000 because my testicle removal surgery ended up costing more out of pocket than originally expected.” Is this savings they are tapping into? How the fuck can you save that much money?! If I have an extra hundred bucks in my pocket, I’m less likely to save it than I am to take everyone to Chuck E. Cheese to make it rain with tokens and tickets for the kids while I get drunk and try to coerce the animatronic band to play “Freebird.” So saving enough money to eventually pay for a home is out of the question.

Do these people inherit this money? If so, then fuck. I couldn’t imagine what that is like. When my relatives die, they just leave problems. Our family funerals tend to just be venues for fights to take place. We’re so white trash that the deceased’s pockets are requested to be sewn shut to prevent people praying in front of the casket from slipping their hands in there looking for loose change.

It also seems like these house hunting couples nitpick over the dumbest shit. “I don’t know. I just can’t picture the morning sunlight hitting my face the way I like it to in this Florida Room.” Anytime we’ve looked for a new home, I have to fight the urge to say, “Fuck this is fancy.” if the place doesn’t have exposed wiring.

Once I’m angry and jealous over their budget and “Must Haves”, it’s typically time for the show to get to the point where the couple is mulling their decision over dinner out. AND YOU HAVE MONEY TO EAT OUT TOO! FUUUCKK! There have been times where we have been so broke that I’ve considered staging a choking with Jaime swiftly guiding me from the table to the car as I try to get away without paying for my mozzarella stix. I’ve also offered to pay for a meal at Outback Steakhouse by telling the waiter that I didn’t have any money, but I’d make him a cool hundo if he bet on me and let me fight the kangaroo in the basement. Even after winking at him, he insisted that wasn’t a real thing. Fortunately, I maintained my composure while staring him the fuck down like a koala. I’m sorry. I’m just jealous of these people because I simply can’t relate to them and it drives me insane.

By the end of the show, I’m normally in a sweaty rage. I’ll at least entertain the thought of punching a hole in the wall to make myself feel better, but then I’d just end up pissing more money down the drain and into my landlord’s pool of gold. God I hope Scrooge McDuck drowns in that fucking pool.

Thank you for reading. Please like the Facebook page of Delco Proper, a new Comedy Central webseries that I am involved in.

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