Like bad porn acting

Last night M and I watched a show we haven't watched in a while, House Hunters. (Here's the summary of last night's episode.) The premise of the show is that someone or a family is looking for a house, and you go around with them while they look at properties, then make an offer, then you see the house after they move in. I've always been fascinated by real estate -- I'm one of those dorks who goes to open houses on Sundays to see other people's houses, even though I have a perfectly good house of my own -- so it appeals to me. The thing is, the people on the show are the world's worst actors. Almost like the people who star in porn:

Husband (glassy-eyed stare at the camera and complete monotone): Here-is-the-bedroom. Wow-it's-big. Nice-windows.

Wife (blinking furiously): Yes-I-could-see-our-furniture-in-here.

Robo real estate agent: Let-me-show-you-the-other-bedroom.
(they shuffle lifelessly down the hall)

But hey, we're dorks who are home on a Friday night. M fell asleep at 8 p.m. as we watched the Sox game. I tried to get him to wake up, but he told me to leave him alone. So I came up here and played on the computer. Today: Mulch. Tomorrow: BBQ at M 's grandma's, then my sister-in-law's sister's graduation party.

This morning, I patted the golden next door. Smooth move, Ex-Lax. I got all wheezy.