Friday, May 4, 2007

Bubble Gum Palace


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:

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Tomb of the Unknown Contractor


One is forced to wonder, if Anne Frank had wound up in this attic, would she have survived as long as she did? If the Nazis didn't kill her, certainly, the oppressive ugly of this mess would have. This house is not in need of a contractor to remedy whatever personal demons were being worked out during its construction; it's in need of a mental health professional. One could probably take a stab at a diagnosis just from looking at the, a-hem, "design." There are steps leading to a front door -- but where one would expect to enter, alas, there is a wall. Perhaps the owner is aloof, distant, "closed-off" or just batshit crazy. It's as if a Victorian cottage were entombed in a block of concrete unable to make a Houdini-like escape from its captor. Help! My house is being held hostage! Someone call 9-1-1! Whatever was going on in the mind of the person who planned out this job (Although doubtful there was much of a planning stage. More likely, "grab a beer and some stucco and let's go!") one thing can be guaranteed: someone happened on a rummage sale at the church. "All windows must go!" They're everywhere. And where they don't fit, plywood will have to do. Perhaps the church-like windows offer hope. Pray for forgiveness.