Let's face it, we've all got our goofy little habits.
Singing hair bands' songs in the shower, complete with air guitar and an imaginary microphone. Socks and sandals. Finishing up your order in the drive-through with the instruction, "and that's 'to go.'"
Somewhere in the deepest, dorkiest parts of our daily routine are the sorts of things best not exposed to the light of day. At least until the hot water runs out.
A note here: You'll notice I didn't refer to these things as "geeky,' since, apparently "geeky' has come to mean all those people who actually know how to make your phone work. And aren't a teenage girl. Though, apparently those things aren't mutually exclusive.
Anyway, my goofy habit, at least of the moment, doesn't involve fashion infractions or requests to pour sugar on anybody.
I watch "House Hunters International."
Intentionally. On purpose. Not while wandering through or accidentally before the Game of the Week comes on. I actually sit down and set about watching the show. I may even pop popcorn.
What channel it's on, I have no idea. I'm pretty sure it's one of those between ESPN and infinity, or at least all those channels no one ever watches but we pay for. I just start surfing until I see people taking selfies on the Great Wall and I know I've found it.
And I'm not sure what time it's on, because, well, it's always on. Apparently there exists an endless supply of couples looking for a walk up in Waziristan or a bungalow in Belgrade and who don't mind expressing their darkest secrets, or at least their need for a spare bedroom, to the world.
When people ask me what the show is about, I say "it's like 'House Hunters,' only ... you know, not around here."
OK, specifically, "House Hunters International" is about couples trying to find a house in a foreign country. Seems self-explanatory, doesn't it? However, for the sake of the show, they are introduced to a real estate agent who listens patiently to their desires for a roomy four-bedroom with a breathtaking view of the Eifel Tower, all for less than their monthly Starbucks bill, and then crushes their dreams.
Another note here: Apparently, there is no corner of the world so obscure, so remote, so bereft of even the slightest hint of civilization that you can't find an American selling real estate. Kind of Manifest Destiny with a fixed-rate mortgage. And those pens with your name on them.
Anyway, once the couples manage to shake off the whole "crushed dreams" thing, the strangely out-of-place American agent shows them what they can actually afford. All of which takes on a greater sense of urgency, since these people can find themselves in locales where hotels are scare, houses are built every hundred years or so and the need for shelter is acerbated by the possibility of being eaten by werewolves.
In fact I believe "gates strong enough to keep out a werewolf" was actually a request on one of the shows. Right after granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
Now what makes the show fun, at least for me, is that the couples are typically given three choices and you, the viewer, get to guess which ones of the houses/apartments/yurts/grass-roofed hovels they'll pick. And you'll make your guess based exclusively on what you've been able to observe about them from film judiciously edited to make them appear their most whiny and annoying.
Hey, it's either that or bet on the winner of "Top Chef," which I'm boycotting since my Caribbean chicken lady got jobbed.
Now before you get the idea there's some kind of vicarious dream being lived out here, let me straighten you out. There's a big difference between "visiting" and "living in." Sure, some of these spots seem pretty cool, but a good percentage of them look like places where it would be almost impossible to get the Cardinals game in HD (oh, the savagery!). Or consistently working plumbing that wasn't installed by the Romans. And where there's the possibility you might become part of a pandemic, which probably isn't the kind of spontaneous publicity you've been looking for.
And while it might be fun to tour some of these places, it's also fun to see people try to figure out what that thing is that might be a toilet, simply based on process of elimination (no pun intended), but might not be.
So there it is. Dorky? Yes. Goofy? Probably. But at least it's somewhat educational (hey, they've got maps and everything). And it could be worse.
There's always that sugar-pouring thing.
GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.
Commentary on 10/16/2014