I don't think it taxes the imagination to picture this streetcorner littered with Humvees and women in clanging jewelry, teetering on high heels, on their way to an afternoon bar-b-que at this pink palace. Too loud. Too long. Too excessive. Too much wax on every surface of car, counter and face in sight. It's all just too much. Suppose there had been a sidewalk involved, where would it go? How long can that lawn take to mow? Whatever the gardner's making -- and I'm betting it's the wife -- it's too much. Forget about a bounce house for the kids parties. "Who needs a lawn? Mommy said to go play in the chef's kitchen. It has a sub zero!" Can we talk about scale? The columns, the chimney, the house! We all know the house is too big for the lot. Why don't they? "Do I look fat in this?" "Yes!" Before they spent two million dollars on this house why didn't someone -- anyone -- tell them how wrong it is? Sure silicone-injected double-D's dressed in pink are fun to look at, but, ultimately it's a freak show and not a place you want to live. I think what I'm trying to say, is that if this house were a person, this is who it would be:
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