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Hide Yo' Knives

I started watching Big Brother in its first season. I've watched it every summer since 2000. I'm not proud of it, but it's my reality.

Big Brother works for three reasons:

  1. It's in the summer when television choices are lacking.

  2. When I watch it, I take my brain out, place it in a glass bowl, and leave it there for the show's duration.

  3. It's a great escape from the reality of life (for example, conversations include, "Brent heard there was a girls alliance, and you know that girl alliances are not allowed!")

Over the years, I've trapped my daughter in the room to watch the show. Lately, she's expressed an interest in going on the show when she turns twenty-one.

I am on board with that plan because I know my daughter's strengths. She is very respectful, has a soft, unassuming voice, but she will gut you at a moment's notice if you cross her. That last part is from her mama.

She has decided that when she becomes Head of Household, she'll nominate her housemates with the speech, "You b*tches know what you did."

I admire a concise nomination speech.

Last night, we watched another guest get voted out of the house. Then, we watched as the evictee asked everyone for a group hug.

My daughter commented, "What is he doing? If I were evicted, I'd tell everyone to go to hell and stay away from me. I might even have some sign language for them if you know what I mean!"

Not one to be outdone, I responded, "I'd say get away from me. Make sure to sleep with one eye open because I'll be back! I'm gonna burn this house down to the ground!"

I looked up to see my daughter staring at me with wide eyes and her mouth ajar.

"That might be the menopause talking," I replied.

It might be time to consult a professional.

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