Up My Own Ass

I am addicted to this show because watching it always makes me feel better about myself. For those of you who haven’t spent entire days folding laundry without ever taking your eyes off the screen, WWACH features a new family of dysfunctional slobs (residing in the greater Los Angeles area) on each episode.

Viewers apply to have their houses rid of clutter and disorganization while allowing themselves to be shamed on national television as big, fat, nasty pigs. They sell all of their worldly possessions for five bucks at a yard sale, and they usually get new couches and a flat screen television out of the deal.

The show’s a fucking train wreck. I can’t take my eyes off of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I think Niecy Nash is delightful, but what pisses me off is that these fuckers get a free home makeover just for being shameful and unclean. We’re not talking about a few dust bunnies and a banana peel, either. We are talking about garbage piled from floor to ceiling in every room of the house. The wives are usually insufferable harpies, and the husbands always have long, greasy hair and Hawaiian shirts.

You just KNOW they smell bad.

I just can’t stand a fucking show that rewards people for bad behavior. Every time I watch this show, I secretly hope that Matt Iseman punches someone in the face, although never more so than when I watched the show featuring the messiest couple in America.

On this particular episode, we met Mindy and Phil who are disgusting, filthy, dirty, unclean beasts because Phil hurt his back some time during the Reagan administration and just hasn’t been able to clean for very long because…OUCH…his back hurts so badly, and, judging by the size of his wife, she was too busy swallowing entire barrels of tallow to be bothered to break out the Clorox wipes.

Queen, please.

Somehow, through all the pain, Phil has managed to adopt several expensive hobbies including photography, remote control airplanes, CB radios and, of course, the now-ubiquitous paranormal investigation.

Their house should have been razed some time ago. Far surpassing even remotely acceptable levels of toxic contamination, these fuckers now expect someone else to come in and clean up their shit, but they are not willing to part with any of the actual FILTH. They even had a 20-pound pile of cat shit hiding in a utility closet. They didn’t even have a cat.

Let me tell you what’s really happening here. Phil is a great big baby and expects to be waited on hand and foot. Phil hurt his back being a fireman and now has to play up his injury on television (even going so far as to wear a JOHNSON’S CHIROPRACTIC t-shirt so we know he really means it) in order not to have his disability benefits taken away. Hooray for Phil. What a hero.

You know as well as I do that as soon as those cameras were off he was doing handsprings.

Fortunately for him, he is married to a lazy, bloated, crybaby whiner who never matured emotionally past the age of 10. She stands by her man, and cuddles up on the bed with him when his back hurts and whines about how they are “being punished for being different than other families.”

Punished? “Here, we’re going to come in and help correct the years of neglectful personal hygiene…we just need you to pitch in a little before we give you an entire houseful of nice, new things!”

You know, I am very good at being able to tell when someone needs a nice, hard, open-handed slap across the face.

Oh, well…gotta run. The dog just yacked on my cell phone and I am nowhere NEAR the greater Los Angeles area.