Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Dear HGTV: We Need to Talk About Sarah, Her House and Her Flying Monkey
There are many things we need to talk about - and your crack-like addiction to "House Hunters" and "House Hunters, International" is something that we need to deal with at some point - but I think you have a bigger problem that we need to talk about.
That would be Sarah, her house and that flying monkey of an assistant, Tommy, that is so far up Sarah's ass that it isn't funny.
Here's the deal: Sarah comes across as a know-it-all bitch.
Did that seem harsh to you? Well I take it back.
Sarah is a know-it-all cunt. There I said it. She's a cunt. A cunt with a flying monkey up her ass, as it were.
Now I know that there is a whole thing going on here with you using Canadian television because like filling like bubble wrap, and you can get it very cheap.
And I know that that Sarah seems to know her stuff. How do I know this? Because periodically the flying monkey has to tell us things like "you know, sometimes I wonder what is going on in her mind. But the truth is, she's right."
Which begs the question - how can something so right, be so wrong for TV?
Well, for starters, she isn't likable. Yes, she is easy on the eye. But she isn't fun. There is nothing fun in anything she designs. Its always fucking perfect. And she'll tell you that.
She's cold. I mean in a robotic way. She's not Sandra Rinamoto, and we love Sandra. She not handsome, like Scott McGillavery, and we love Scott.
Sarah is the anti-Candice Olson. And we love Candice.
Sarah is commanding, demanding and cold.
If I could snap my fingers and knock down walls, or order my flying monkey to search all over God's creation for retail fabrics without any regard to price, I could design some places that would literally knock your socks off. And I can do it without saying things like "Well, its 'aboot' time you got here!" Ask me nice and I'd throw in some words with umlauts and all that.
But a show about a bossy woman, spending money on houses that she will never live in, designed around her personal tastes, and then telling you why it is so god damn perfect about it, well, that's just boring. And when you add in her assistant who is just so grateful beyond all words to simply have the chance to wipe her ass, or order her chintz, well that's dysfunctional.
So if you would, and I know you won't, would you send Sarah to charm school to make her less cold and calculating? Or at least introduce her to Martha Stewart. Martha had the same rap until she got her ass shipped off to prison. And guess what, a few months of lock up gave her a sense of humor. Now there is one be-atch that I would love in my house, and one I would love to have decorate it, too.
But Sarah - colder than a witches tit in a brass bra.
Warm Personal Regards,