The show “Hoarders” and why my family should be the season finale
Guys, we have an issue. I am obsessed with the show “Hoarders.” And I’m obsessed with it because it’s like someone video taped segments of my childhood and made a show out of it. Things were technically video taped in my childhood, but since my grandfather is the HOARDER Of the century, I’ll never see those video tapes. I hope the rats enjoy the taste of me and my goat frolicking.
But this show brings up some insane memories for me. Like for instance, every time they find dead animals, I remember the time my diddy found a baby possum in an underwear drawer. It was pink and bald, snuggled up in some big ass cotton panties. It was happily asleep, until we tossed it outdoors where I’m sure it later found shelter in my grandfather’s trash piles beside my grandfather who probably was also happily asleep.
I never thought much of it growing up. You never knew where anything was, you had no idea how to organize or clean anything. Everyday was a surprise where you found some item long forgotten under the horrifying mess. Sleepovers never happened, and I was terrified for the kids on the bus to see where I lived, so I always lied about which house was mine.
I started thinking about everyone in my family, all of whom share this hoarding issue. My cousin, my brother, my grandfather, mother, aunt, and two other relatives (that I can’t remember how they’re related) have extensive hoarding issues and the tendency to fight you over the stupidest things. One Christmas break, I was bored and decided to try and help my mother clean her bathroom. Five garbage bags later, I gave up because I was only halfway finished, and exhausted. Things heard during this session:
“Mom, it doesn’t even have one spray of perfume left in it! Spray it on you and throw it the fuck out!”
“You don’t need it! YOU HAVE THREE MORE!”
“Did you even remember this existed!?”
“Look! I found the counter! It was under all this garbage!”
“MOM! I’ll BUY YOU A NEW ONE!”
“Can you PLEASE get this cat out of here?”
I got to this point of bribing her almost and it was maddening. But the most hilarious thing is, I told my mom I was obsessed with “Hoarders” and she says: “OH I KNOW!!! Makes me want to get in here and just throw everything out.” Obviously, you see how committed she is to that remark. And she’ll call me and say, “Well, you’ll be proud of me! I got rid of a whole bag of clothes and took it to Goodwill!” like I’m supposed to pony up a damned Olympic medal for her backwards-assed cleaning progress!
When my brother found out I sold a Gene Simmons T-shirt on eBay that was a small, he literally got pissed off at me. Homie doesn’t have his own house, and lives with my fucking mother, and keeps his clothes piled around his bed, and was appalled I sold a small t-shirt that could be added to his piles. Lest we forget that he owned the XL version of this godforsaken t-shirt already and couldn’t get his porky ass into this one. That’s when you have a serious problem, people.
I finally grew up around 2009 when I sold most of my geeky collectibles from my youth. I’m sorry, but at 30 years old, I don’t exactly need comic books of “The Crow” lying around, or Nine Inch Nails tour books. I told my brother about selling these things and you would have thought I literally said “I murdered the entire band of Kiss and I shit in their Dynasty Tour costumes.” He was appalled. We then had the “Dude, I’m fucking about to be 30 and I need the money” talk, and it just did not register with him that I value space, cleanliness, and money more than I desire to keep some comics I forgot about 10 years ago. Also while moving, I found a holographic trading card of Routy Roddy Piper, and I immediately threw it into the trash since this was a guerrilla cleaning effort. He was completely offended and fished it out, straightened it out, and put it in his wallet. If he put the effort in his everyday life that he puts in to frivolous bullshit, I would be pretty damned excited. But I’ve lost hope.
I really want my family on “Hoarders” but I don’t think that show would know what to do with them. Who do you tackle first? My grandfather? This is a man who has four or five different campers filled to the ceilings with absolute bullshit, and has them daisy chained together with extension cords. Since he ran out of room in his campers, he fills up the seventeen abandoned cars in the back. My cousin, who is a garbage man that takes everyone’s junk, ended up packing many of those cars with junk himself. My mom found a laptop bag (She didn’t own a laptop!) and a grill missing a leg in one of the cars. For her, it was like a white trash mall had opened behind her trailer. I was appalled.
Or do you tackle my brother, who thinks someday he’ll have a 2500 square foot house on his paltry wages to store all of his ridiculous Kiss collectibles? But the collectibles don’t stop at Kiss, he also has an astounding Superman collection and Elvis collection in which he will bust out a feather duster, and organize these items until they shine with the majesty of a 1976 Elvis jumpsuit diamond. But then leaves his thousands of clothing items on the floor in wrinkles where it’s undoubtedly certain a cat’s ass will grace them with urine. My brother would buy a gun the second a doctor on “Hoarders” said “Don’t you think buying your own home is more important than your expansive $50,000 Kiss collectibles?” His mind would explode with that kind of logic presented to him. God, it’d be amazing material for TV!
With that rant over, I’m going to go watch “Hoarders,” and get more inspiration for my book. As they uncover dead cat carcasses, I uncover more memories. It’s good times!
Also, I wanted to draw you all a picture this week, but I couldn’t come up with what I’d draw. So here’s a picture instead, of me cuddling a stuffed unicorn. As you’ll notice, the photo is ruined, which when you grow up with Hoarders will happen.