I’m a white lady. Need proof? Here are some things I like: Sauvignon Blanc, brunch, Ellen DeGeneres, and that part of Crazy Stupid Love when Ryan Gosling takes his shirt off (also all of Crazy Stupid Love). I believe I am what the youths call a “basic bitch.” (But, wait, actually is that true? Because I’m still not totally sure what it means, and I’m pretty sure I hate the phrase.) I’ve only gone further down the rabbit hole with my most recent obsession: HGTV.
I assumed the channel was all DIY paint jobs and tablescape tutorials. I believed that HGTV’s target demographic was suburban, Martha Stewart-wannabe, much-younger second wives. I don’t take that back. But add me in there, too, because HGTV has some seriously addicting programming.
I was first roped in during lunch in the break room at work. Even if I was due back at my desk, I’d wait out the last few minutes of whatever show was on so that I could see which house was chosen, or what the final remodel looked like. Then I started putting it on at home if there was something I needed to do but wanted background noise. Typically, my life is run by my DVR—but I watch HGTV live.
Whoever structures their content is an evil genius, too, because it’s all timed perfectly to keep you tuned in against your will. One program ends, showing you how well the happy couple has settled into their new home two months later as the credits roll, and then—BOOM—another begins immediately, with just enough sneak peeks to keep you hanging on, because you just gotta find out what that third beach house looks like inside. For a while HGTV was the channel that came on when I turned on the TV. I rarely got out of the room without watching for at least two hours.
An HGTV Drinking Game. Please drink when you hear the following buzzwords:
- Reno (“Renovation” for those not in the know. Chumps.)
- Open concept
- Take a shot any time they show footage of a family trying to operate in a comically small space
We’ll all be dead after half an hour.
And now, just in case you haven’t treated yo’ self to some HGTV yet, let me walk you through some key shows:
Love It Or List It
This was my first HGTV show. My gateway drug, if you will. Here, an interior designer and a realtor battle to renovate/find a “dream home” for one family, who then pick whether they’re going to Love their redone digs, or List it and buy a new property. Spoiler alert, I’ve only seen the family List It once. Fun bonus, this takes place in Toronto and everyone has maddening accents. Extra fun bonus, in the Vancouver spin-off version of the show, the interior designer is Jillian the Bachelorette.
House Hunters International
This one is the most fun and the most infuriating. Sit back and relax, while the world’s most undeserving twits pick the absolute wrong place to live for all the wrong reasons, all while living the life you should be living abroad. Actually, they’re mostly not twits; I’m just unbearably jealous. The properties range from palatial to complete shitholes, but they’re great inspiration for fantasies in which I quit my job and move somewhere tropical. (JK I don’t think I could live in a place where you can’t flush the toilet paper.)
Property Brothers; Buying and Selling; Property Brothers at Home, a.k.a. Weird Twincest House
They creep me the fuck out. Also, they are rich. Why are they buying and redoing a house in which to live together? Time to exit the womb, dudes.
Also, let me please direct you to the quote, straight from Wikipedia, which explains everything:
“However, before going into real estate as a profession, the brothers tried acting…The two also did improvisational comedy and Jonathan became an illusionist. “
If you didn’t before, you know who they are now.
But their taste is pretty good.
I’ve never seen this one, but as far as I can tell, the point is “Petite, hot ladies are into down and dirty renovations too!” (Sorry, men of the world, mostly they aren’t.)
But it doesn’t matter if I love the shows or hate them, because I’ll watch literally anything that comes on. I’m telling you, I have a problem. And as far as I can tell, I will never own a home. So, friends, if you ever find me with a sledgehammer and a crazed grin, proposing we just “take out that wall” because I have a “genius open-plan layout in my head,” it’s all over. Send me away.