I admit, every now and again I might not make the best choices when watching TV. My DVR is riddled with things like Say Yes to the Dress, The Real Housewives, Operation Repo (thanks, Dad!) and my recent discovery, Big, Rich Texas (thanks, Mom!)
Every now and again I might find myself channel surfing and perhaps stumbling across a real goldmine. A true broadcasting gem. A show so out-of-its-tree crazy you actually sit up in your bed and go, WTF?
I have found that show.
Sure, reality television is chockfull of chuckleheads that make you question, “Doesn’t this girl have a father?” or “Under what cinderblock-propped Yugo did they find this pimple on humanity?” But this show… OMG. I couldn’t help wondering if these people actually knew they were being filmed. And that it would air on national television. And that people like me, with admittedly low television-viewing standards, would stumble across it and be diced with emotional scars so deep they’d require a Housewife-size order of Restylane to fill.
I’m talking about My Strange Addiction.
Now, let’s be clear. These are not people with normal addictions like to Afrin or The Weather Channel or posting pictures of their cat on websites.
These are some straaaaaaaaaaaaaaaange, disturbing addictions. Like not for the faint of heart, which as it turns out—I am. Please tell me I’m not the only one who has seen this. Truthfully I have only watched it once. That’s how bad it was. I mean, Big, Rich Texas is terrible but I record it every week. It’s not Big, Rich bad. It’s just bad. Like take-a-shower-after-you-watch-it bad. Like did I really just see that bad. Like turn the channel before your strange addiction becomes My Strange Addiction bad!
It started off innocently enough with some dude named Nathaniel. He was probably in his late 20’s. Kind of weird looking but nothing that outwardly would make you shudder and feel the need to wash your eyes out with Bactine. But I could tell this was no ordinary show. It’s as easy for me to sniff out a reality show doozie as it is to tell when my mom’s freakinshly delicious brownies are about baked. I knew some weird shit was about to go down.
So this Nathaniel– let’s assume he actually knows people. He probably has a job. A few friends. A prom date who is busy burning her high school year book right now. He must have neighbors. A dry cleaner? A mailman? I mean—he HAS TO KNOW PEOPLE! So why, why, why did he agree to go on this show????? DID HE ASK TO BE ON THE SHOW????
But I digress…
Nathaniel’s addiction is…oh dear lord, I need a minute…
His strange addiction is…his car. Now, he’s not just some meathead who enjoys the smell of Armor All on a sunny Saturday morning. Oh no. It’s much more…strange than that. You see, Nathaniel is dating his car. That’s right. I said, DATING HIS CAR. His car named Chase. It’s red. And shiny and was clearly someone very, very bad in a past life to have to been reincarnated as a red, shiny car named Chase who must suffer the cruel, mortifying, sexual attention-abuse Nathanial lavishes upon him in this life. Oh that’s right. Chase is a him. The narrator made sure we all knew Chase was straight. I guess he was worried people might think he was gay??? Umm, I’m pretty sure there’s worse things people might think of you, Nathaniel, you car-humping freak!
Next thing, there’s Nathaniel all gooey-eyed and stroking Chase’s steering wheel and purring, “Oh yeah, Chase, you like that? Does that feel good?” And then he was kissing…no making out with the hood of the car.
And then—OMG—I’m going to throw up. He was…under the car. And…doing things.
Seriously, people! Nathanial KNOWS PEOPLE!!! In fact, he was about to tell his dad all Jerry Springer style about Chase. That’s when I turned the channel. I couldn’t see a dad be told his son is in a sexual relationship with a CAR! What did they tell his dad to get him to appear on camera?
“Hello, Mr. Sad. I’m a producer from a television show your sick bastard of a son is going to be featured on. Can you come sit a spell on this here bench while he shares with you some exciting news? Oh and feel free to wear this oxygen mask and hold the hand of this nice EMT while he tells you. Thanks!”
Am I one to talk? Because clearly I too am not without my own sickness. About 14 seconds after turning the channel I turned it back. It’s true. I couldn’t look away. Thankfully I missed Nathanial and Chase’s coming out. I mean, I think I’m thankful. What I ended up seeing can’t really be that much better.
Meet 28 year-old Jaye. She’s addicted to snorting baby powder. Umm…Jaye? That’s just flat out nasty. And shoving powder, baby or otherwise, up your sniffer with a soup spoon can not be good for you. She likes the way it smells, she claims. But sadly she can’t keep a roommate because the apartment gets so darn dusty.
I don’t know who, if anyone, Jaye was coming out to because I stopped watching. For real. I don’t even know if that’s the premise of the show. I don’t know if these people want to seek help. Sure doesn’t seem like it. In fact, they seemed downright proud of their addictions. But can someone please tell me what it’s like when they go to the office the day after their show airs? I mean, if I saw the quiet dude who sits across the aisle from me on a TV show where he was humping his car or shoving baby powder up his nose, or drinking nail polish remover, or eating cat food ,or smelling a doll head, I would probably puke. And then ask him if he knew he was being filmed. And then find out where the F he parks his love machine so I can make sure to steer clear.
I leave you with this awesome image.
You’ve been warned. Stay away from this show. In fact, stay away from everyone. You never know what strange addiction they’re harboring.