This Old *%@($$#**!! House
A concept that is well on its way to becoming my new reality show.
Suggested by my good friend SH, unsuspecting young couples and/or newly single guys with aspirations but no practical skills buy a 1920's-something place and then spend days wondering just what in hell they were thinking?
Episode one: We find the place charming and in the right neighborhood (which is to say that John Deere tractor-themed mailboxes fronting NASCAR house flags are thankfully absent.) and bid the freaking list price because, hell, you can sleep until six thirty, walk to work and still be the first one in. Plus there's a bar two blocks away for casual Friday. Its charming and reminds you of your old place in New England with the pumpkin pine floors, built-in cabinets and tin ceilings. Trouble is you've got oak floors that just got off the plane from the Oregon Beaver festival, the built-ins will have a hard time holding your stamp collection and the ceilings inspired the original asbestos class-action lawsuits.
Episode two: We move in and the bigger pieces of furniture create their own sinkhole in the living room floor. Wonder if anyone still sells pumpkin pine flooring? Wonder if filling the basement with pumpkins will support the living room floor? Nah. Probably just fill the basement with fresh concrete and live on a slab thats twelve feet thick. At least the termites will take a while to eat that.
Episode three: Realize that Mickey Mouse and the Mouseketeer's wallpaper in what was the kid's room and should become your writing den was affixed with some sort of surgical adhesive. You'll sooner get Sandra Bullock's cocktail dress off than you will get this shit off the wall. Paper over or paint? The choice is yours. You lose 8 square feet from the room by leaving the paper up and thickening the wall.
Episode four: The major systems all go AWOL and are court-martialed down to captain systems. Now you know how to MACRS-2 cost depreciate a furnace.
Episode five: What were you thinking??? Another SH suggestion in which the current owner confronts his sellers six months later with forward questions as to their decorating choices. This week: What's a zebra stripe hot tub doing in the fucking basement anyway???
Was this place a back up set for Silence of the Lambs?
Episode six: First date at the house. If you close your eyes, the plumbing leaks sound like a forest waterfall. Romantic, huh?
That should get the pilot off the ground and we'll make the offer to Norm Abram to host the thing if he can keep a straight face and not giggle insanely for a half hour a week.
In the meantime, if I can offer a suggestion to my readers without running afoul of Sarbanes-Oxley:
Invest in drywall stock issues.
Suggested by my good friend SH, unsuspecting young couples and/or newly single guys with aspirations but no practical skills buy a 1920's-something place and then spend days wondering just what in hell they were thinking?
Episode one: We find the place charming and in the right neighborhood (which is to say that John Deere tractor-themed mailboxes fronting NASCAR house flags are thankfully absent.) and bid the freaking list price because, hell, you can sleep until six thirty, walk to work and still be the first one in. Plus there's a bar two blocks away for casual Friday. Its charming and reminds you of your old place in New England with the pumpkin pine floors, built-in cabinets and tin ceilings. Trouble is you've got oak floors that just got off the plane from the Oregon Beaver festival, the built-ins will have a hard time holding your stamp collection and the ceilings inspired the original asbestos class-action lawsuits.
Episode two: We move in and the bigger pieces of furniture create their own sinkhole in the living room floor. Wonder if anyone still sells pumpkin pine flooring? Wonder if filling the basement with pumpkins will support the living room floor? Nah. Probably just fill the basement with fresh concrete and live on a slab thats twelve feet thick. At least the termites will take a while to eat that.
Episode three: Realize that Mickey Mouse and the Mouseketeer's wallpaper in what was the kid's room and should become your writing den was affixed with some sort of surgical adhesive. You'll sooner get Sandra Bullock's cocktail dress off than you will get this shit off the wall. Paper over or paint? The choice is yours. You lose 8 square feet from the room by leaving the paper up and thickening the wall.
Episode four: The major systems all go AWOL and are court-martialed down to captain systems. Now you know how to MACRS-2 cost depreciate a furnace.
Episode five: What were you thinking??? Another SH suggestion in which the current owner confronts his sellers six months later with forward questions as to their decorating choices. This week: What's a zebra stripe hot tub doing in the fucking basement anyway???
Was this place a back up set for Silence of the Lambs?
Episode six: First date at the house. If you close your eyes, the plumbing leaks sound like a forest waterfall. Romantic, huh?
That should get the pilot off the ground and we'll make the offer to Norm Abram to host the thing if he can keep a straight face and not giggle insanely for a half hour a week.
In the meantime, if I can offer a suggestion to my readers without running afoul of Sarbanes-Oxley:
Invest in drywall stock issues.
posted by The Caustic Bunny at Thursday, July 28, 2005
2 Comments:
what, no used-to-be-hot-and-is-now-just-annoying carpenter with a megaphone, crying designers and conceptualizers etc with tear-jerking confessionals and affirmations??
I would watch
Hey Bun -- did you notice that MM used Schrodinger's Cat in his blog? I sense a trend here.
The cat is ALIVE.
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