We’ve already established that I’m a bad person and no one should ever be forced to talk to me because I’m going to ramble on about how you should eat your own limbs in a desperate survival situation (see previous blog post). I can’t help it and I don’t mean to be horrible, but literally EVERYTHING is funny to me.

EXAMPLE: I wasn’t in a giant hurry to start writing yesterday, so I stalled by sitting down with my twelve-year-old to watch a movie after I got home from work. We were enjoying a rather funny film about some girls who intentionally stop a wedding by worming their way in as bridesmaids and sabotage everything like a bridal inside job. At one point during the movie, the defeated would-be saboteurs commiserate their failure thus far by opening a bottle of wine and plotting their next move. Only I didn’t see the rest of that part.

Instead, I jumped up, suddenly excited like a poodle on crack, began rooting through the really high cabinets, and screamed, “Oh my gosh! I have that exact cork screw and I never knew how it worked! Rewind that part so I can watch her open that bottle again!” My daughter sat traumatized as I pressed my nose against the screen, trying to learn from a kids’ movie how to open wine with the expensive new-age cork screw I’d received years ago.

So I’m a bad person AND an iffy mom.

We did eventually watch the rest of the movie, and we were too lazy to do the TiVo magic thing through the commercials because it would have involved reaching for the remote and I had already spent all of my energy practicing opening all the bottles of wine in the house (you see where this is going). But then the best commercial EVER came on and I was suddenly back to crack-poodle status.

It was a commercial for an upcoming episode of Hoarders where the crazy lady’s son just goes nuts and starts breaking stuff. I absolutely cannot wait for that episode.

I know, don’t even think about leaving ugly comments because I already know. I’m a horrible person. Hoarding is apparently a very serious and upsetting mental illness (even though Americans seem to be some of the only people on Earth who can catch it or afford it) and there’s nothing funny about smashing all of their carefully hoarded stuff. But am I seriously the only person who thinks every episode could be about forty-five minutes shorter if they would just take the camera crew through the house, show us how bad it is in there, then torch the whole structure with the crap inside? This lady’s son was just doing what we’re all thinking.

They had gotten to that part in EVERY EPISODE where they start to clear it out piece by piece, doily by doily, creepy yard sale doll by creepy yard sale doll, when eventually it gets to be too overwhelming for the hoarder and she starts to freak out over the loss of each used cough drop wrapper. She started to reclaim her stuff and cry. Well, this lady’s son was having none of it. He started smashing her crap every time she reached to put something back in the house. At one point he even threw something down, yelled at her, and said, “Well NOW you can’t have it!”

I know, I’m horrible, he was abusive, I get it. So just don’t look at me while I laugh. I’m truly ashamed. No, really, I am, I mean it! And I do understand her pain, since I am at this very moment hoarding eight open bottles of wine.