Things I Want To Do Because of House

Gregory House is my hero.

An odd choice, I realize, but ever since I started watching House I’ve come to terms with a number of realizations. One, House is my favorite show. Of. All. Time. Second, it is compulsively watchable. Once begun, I was watching two, three episodes per night, planning my life two weeks out in anticipation of my next trip to Wal-Mart to buy Season Two, Season Three, circling the coming glory day on my calendar. Third, I finally discovered someone on television who reminds me of myself, which means I have finally joined the jubilant millions of home-viewers reclining blissfully on aging couch cushions from the Pacific to the Atlantic, stone-zoned night to night in front of the boob-tube, ecstatic in my connection with this character inside the light-box who’s just like me (at least, sort of).

It’s already affecting my life.

I’ve taken to making sarcastic comments in the face of obvious questions, a habit I’d worked for years to erase from my repertoire. No more. Now that I’m House-ified, the sarcasm flies. It zings. It whizzes. And, baby, it burns.

I started keeping containers of Tic-Tacs in my pocket, conveniently half-loaded so I could take them out at random and rattle the container. Finding this unimpressive, I moved them into an old prescription-med bottle, all those fine little white breath mints a convincing Vicadin impersonator.

I even talk like House. I can’t stop saying “Differential diagnosis,” which is a phrase that just sounds badass no matter how you use it.

I took my truck to the shop when the clutch went out. My mechanic popped the hood, stuck in his head. I leaned over his shoulder.

“Differential diagnosis for a screaming clutch?”

I got pulled over last week. The cop tapped my window politely with his thumb. I rolled it down.

“Differential diagnosis, Officer, for why you pulled me over?”

I woke up on my day off with a mean hunger. I opened the cupboards and stared down at the dog.

“Differential diagnosis, Tito, for Sunday breakfast?”

Try it out. It’s addictive.

But most of all, I find myself wanting to do things because of watching House. Here’s a short list of my current inspirations:

I want to go back to wearing beard-stubble.

Greg just looks good unshaven. I just look good unshaven. And you wonder what else we have in common.

I want to play the piano.

I’m already a loner, and playing the piano when you’re all alone just seems sexy.

I want a friend like Wilson.

Wilson puts up with nothing but shit, and he sticks around. We all need a friend like this. I need two.

I want a cane.

Two ideas to think about: You can hit people with it. Sympathy-sex. Ponder this for a while and ask yourself if I’m on the wrong track.

If nothing else, you ought to do yourself a favor. Buy Season One and watch it. You won’t be sorry.