Saturday, July 30, 2011

House. And I Don't Mean Home.

I have a guilty pleasure. 

It is watching House reruns.  I know I am a couple of years too late jumping on the bandwagon and he is old news to many of my dear readers.  But, in my temporary state of semi isolation from the rest of the world . . . you know.

Even though I probably have seen every episode, eight or twenty times twice - still, I watch.  It's usually on in the back ground while I exercise do laundry browse through People Magazine.

 I know House is a lousy role model.  Has a ghastly vocabulary.  Has beliefs that are the antithesis of mine. Treats everyone terribly.  And has a questionable sense of humor.  Okay, it's not questionable, it's outright naughty.  But those things are precisely why I watch.

He's a sack of Miserable with a wicked sense of timing and convoluted idea of what is ethical and appropriate.  And I can hardly take my eyes away.  He's not just a train wreck waiting to happen, he's the conductor with evil eyebrows and a twisted grin on his face.  And I love it.

Guilty Pleasure with an emphasis on GUILTY!

Alas, I have to give up my House Habit.  Just recently, I realized my children were picking up way too much on their treks through the living room with their various excuses.

"Mom, I need a drink.  WHOA!  Cool!  That guy's eyeballs are hanging out of his head!"

"Mama, can I get my haircut tomorrow?  Ewwwww!  Why is that girl bleeding all over the place?  Will that happen to me?"

"Mom, where's the Gameboy?  Wait, what did he mean when he said 'the big O'?"

Yeah.  I think I must say goodbye to my House.  My craggy faced, devious, but hilarious anti-hero.  I will miss you and your entertaining ways while I fold sheets and match socks catch up on the latest celebrity news.

Of course, there's always the DVR . . .

I am linking this post to Jill's TILT post

Counting it all linky joy,

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