I called Marvrick out yesterday for his love of Clamato. I simply cannot fathom one who can add clam broth to ANYTHING and make it taste good. Clams are just one of those words that don’t sound good, period.
When you’re cold and sweaty, what are your hands? That’s right. Clammy. Why would you want to add something that means cold and sweaty to your drink and/or food? Clam chowder? Gross. Clam dip? Disgusting. Linguini with clam sauce? Bite me. That’s not food. That’s a little bowl of hate with a bread stick.
So I was sitting at jr.’s basketball practice last night, when I get this picture text:
I fire back to him that I am very obviously going to have to do a sweep of his pantry, because I cannot risk him deciding to go off, half-cocked willy nilly, making things with clams.
He then volleys backs with this:
It just so happens that after jr’s basketball game, after I get his clam texts, or clexts, as I now call them, I get home and settle in to watch Hoarders for the first time. If you haven’t seen this program yet, it is an hour long nightmare in which A&E tries to help two compulsive hoarders before their lives fall apart and/or they die.
I watched back to back episodes. One had a family with small children who’s house got so bad, and so infested with bed bugs, that they had been living in their back yard, in tents, for two months. One had a woman who had not had running water for two years. She used adult diapers to make up for the lack of a toilet, and she kept all of the adult diapers. In her house. Two years worth of them. There was a pile in the bathroom six-feet deep. A pile so putrid, so foul, that it ate a hole through the floor of her bathroom.
As I am sitting there watching this, something inside my head clicked. Wait a minute. A hoarder is someone who holds onto things that are putrid and disgusting, for no reason, just because they mentally can’t let them go. Hoarders don’t care who they hurt, they don’t even know they are hurting someone, they just want their stuff. There is no reason for it. It’s a mental illness.
Then I looked down in horror at my phone. I thought of my clexts.
Holy shit, ya’ll. Mavrick’s a hoarder. I’m calling A&E.