WHEN HOUSE MARRIED WILSON

 It's not news to anyone who knows me or reads this blog that I'm obsessed with House, M.D. starring Hugh Laurie, the man I'm going to marry next time the great British actor.  Months ago I got my husband into the show and we've been slowly making our way through the seasons, an episode or two a day.  (We're almost done with the second to last season and whenever he pisses me off about anything I threaten to tell him what happens in the last episode.)  As soon as I started watching the series I saw eery similarities between the House/Wilson relationship and that of my own marital one.

As House's best friend, Wilson is the one who looks after his interests, tries to protect him from his own destructive habits, catches him when he falls.  In return, House makes fun of him, pulls pranks, and generally abuses him on a daily basis.  And each time, Wilson comes back for more.  "Would never happen in real life!", critics might scream.  Well...

After The Vulcan had his heart surgery, he bristled against my nursing style and compared me to Kathy Bates in Misery -- and then found his bathroom and bedroom plastered with photos of the knife-wielding caretaker. 

He had the nerve to insult me in some fashion and then discovered a picture of himself hanging on the refrigerator with a plastic knife piercing the crotch and a line from my favorite Chicago song written across the bottom ("he had it comin', he had it comin', he only had himself to blame").

He hovers over the kitchen counter when making PB&J sandwiches, like a dog protecting a bone, because if he lets his attention slip for half a second I smash my hand down on the bread.

When The Vulcan got his vasectomy during the holiday season, I serenaded him with "All I Want for Christmas Are My Testicles" to the tune of  "All I Want for Christmas Are My Two Front Teeth."

Despite his frequent warnings that I'm not to touch his computers, with all their stock market tickers and graphs flying around the screens, he frequently comes back from the bathroom to find me in his office chair chirping, "I'm gonna buy a stock."

And then there's that cane he bought me for Mother's Day.  What an idiot he was to acquiesce to that request...

Wilson would never stay with House and all his personality quirks, you say?  Well, my husband's been here for 17 years and shows no signs of leaving.  I know he's just joking when he says he can't, the alimony would cost him too much.  He's as happy today as he was 17 years ago.  Might be time for the man to talk to a psychiatrist about that.

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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY...FROM ONE BAD MUTHA

Okay, maybe that's stretching it a little, but I'm not exactly June Cleaver either, which may explain my Mother's Day gift this year.  A few months ago, just before they announced that this was the final season of House, I got the first disc of season one from the library.  And it was love at first limp.  I don' t know what took me so long to get around to watching this show.  I've adored Hugh Laurie for close to 20 years, going back to when I first watched Jeeves and Wooster on Masterpiece Theatre.  Maybe if I'd known he wasn't just nasty and snarly but hilariously nasty and snarly I would have tuned in sooner.  And Sherlock Holmes being one of my minor obsessions, the parallels between the two characters would have hooked me as well.

In a nutshell, about two months ago I became seriously addicted to this show, got every season from the library, and caught up (thanks to Hulu) on this final season in time to watch the last eight episodes along with the rest of the world.  My sister swears I only like House because I am House.   I have to admit that when I watch House and Wilson together, it eerily resembles my interactions with my own husband.  While The Vulcan isn't as empathetic and supportive as Wilson, he does have a high tolerance for abuse, which is the main reason I married him.  I realized the only thing missing from our Ohio-based Wilson/House relationship was...wait for it...a cane.  Yes, I realized that the many times I torment my husband and he takes off running for the sanctity of his room could only be made more enjoyable by the addition of a cane.  As my husband was arguing about how pointless a gift that would be, I explained to him the practical applications.  When he tried to escape me up the stairs, I could stick the cane through the railings and trip him.  Or I could hide outside the bedroom and when he emerged I could use my cane to trip him.  Or if he said something snarky and insulting...well, you get the idea.  His reaction, naturally, was, "And why would that make me want to buy it for you?"

Let's just say, I have a way of getting what I want most of the time.  For holidays such as this I always buy myself a backup gift or two in case my husband lets me down.  This year I bought several seasons of (what else?) House on dvd.  Turns out I wouldn't have had to do that, as I got Foghorn on my side and she's been harassing The Vulcan to buy me a cane for weeks.  He might be tempted to cross me, but there's no way he's gonna cross her.  I now present the perfect Mother's Day gift:

OK, technically the guy holding the cane
would be the best Mother's Day gift...

And it even comes with an instructional video:

Happy Mutha's Mother's Day, everyone!


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