Dec 02 2005
If I hit the front of it hard enough, think the mouthpiece will get lodged in his larynx?
While I can understand the appeal of the smarmfest that is ABC’s “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition,” I can’t for the life of me understand the Ty Pennington thing. The Ty Annoyance Factor has actually seemed to be ratcheting up since the show opened a couple seasons ago. This past week they did one of their VERY SPECIAL TWO HOUR EXTREME MAKEOVER: HOME EDITION EVENTS. At the end of hour one, rather than just continuing with the program, they do this gimmicky roll-the-credits-while-Ty-runs-around-screaming-like-Timmy-the-idiot-monkeyboy
-with-a-megaphone thing. He’s yelling about how the house isn’t done, don’t roll the credits, we need to finish this project for the family, don’t roll the credits, dontrollthecredits, DONTROLLTHECREDITS. And he’s doing this all over the project site, aiming his stupid megaphone at all the volunteers whacking together the show’s latest 4,200 sq. ft. foot house for a family of four. If I were on that construction site, my tool of choice would be a Craftsman Air Nailer. And the only stud I’d be looking to shoot it at would be named “Ty.”
I can’t help but wonder what happens to these houses after the 1,200 workers, the 24-hour security, and the 150-person video crew leave. Some of these houses aren’t exactly in the ritzy part of town. At least one new TyMansion appeared to be surrounded by crack houses and meth labs. And who’s going to take care of them? Remember, they’re building these gigantohomes for people who couldn’t take care of 900 sq. ft. bungalows. This week they put up the huge house for a woman who’s in 4th stage cancer. I hope someone donated a maid.
This is not to say I don’t support the idea of helping people in need. I’ve only seen one family I thought was actually scamming to get the new place. But I can’t help watching and wondering “What next?”
And of course, there’s my loathing for Tyler “Megaphone” Pennington. Final note to Ty: dude, use a little less product in your hair because, damn.
Follow up to an earlier post: little sister Patti hit up Giant Eagle for a 1-cent tank of gas. Damnit, she beat me by 44 cents.