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It’s All About the Resale Value

underground lair

When discussing back yard landscaping, the majority of homeowners are likely to gravitate toward the classics, like a pool, or a built-in barbecue island, or perhaps a kitschy little Tiki Lounge feel. While a safe bet, any of those can still be polarizing when it’s time to sell.

This whole “home as investment/future resale value” thing in mind, we’ve opted for something a bit more unique:

Simulated landscaping (fiberglass trees, sculpted rock formations, full backdrops and lighting). Handcrafted by Hollywood set masters, it covers the electric over hydraulic lift helipad which lowers into a semi-finished underground lair.

The plan here is to market the house to a despot or super villain, as those cats have some serious buying power, and it’s usually in the form of piles of cash, or pallets of gold bars… or even German Bearer Bonds in a handy, portable canvas bag. In the listing, we’ll appeal to their inner sense of pride in evil-doing. We do this by describing the helipad and covert underground access and addressing the lack of a pool as not being so much a missing amenity, but an expansion opportunity as the neighbors are lily-livered at best, and already have a well-maintained pool. Taking over the surrounding properties would provide all sorts of additional buildings for use in crafting a compound, versus settling for a measly “hideout” like those lesser villains.

We’ll slide this gem into the ad as well: “Privacy is a must for any rogue dictator-to-be, and this property backs to a tree-lined greenbelt, providing not only sight-lines, but the potential to be easily converted and utilized as a spacious killing field, should your newest citizens attempt some coup or other nonsense.”

Perhaps We’ll Try the Beige Instead

When it comes to updating a room in the old house, little can compare to the utter rage-inducing past time of painting the walls… and spattering that color all over the flooring, regardless of how careful you were in shoring-up that drop cloth. The choices in hue are endless, as are the finishes. There’s interior semi-gloss, interior satin and eggshell and matte paint. And while it’s certainly fun to do your own painting, it’s even more fun to pass judgement on these people you call your “friends” when you visit THEIR homes.

Now, far be it for me to judge one’s interior decorating skills, but it’s painfully obvious having been there a few times now, that this person’s “paint professional” at Lowes has misunderstood them time and again, and instead of giving them a nice decorator color in a sheen befitting the futon and loads of worthless tchotchkes on the crookedly-hung IKEA shelving, said paint guy has blindly swiped the first can of “interior meh” that he drunkenly stumbled toward on the shelf marked “What In the Holy Fuck Were We Thinking When We Chose THIS Shit-Licking Color?! And How Does That Fucking Midget Dago Cake Boss Warrant a Line of Paint Colors? Seriously… ‘Bada-Bing Blueberry Pie’ SHOULD be called ‘I Would Claw My Eyes Out if There Weren’t Some Chance of My Subconscious Recalling This Color and Forcing Me to Have Dreams of Being Chased Around By a South Jersey Version of Violet Beauregarde Wanting to Give Me Some Sort of Anaphylaxis-Inducing Blowjob… Did I Mention That in This Particular Dream That She Has Teeth Not Unlike Evil Ed From That Fright Night Movie and Some Sort of a Twitch in Her Neck? Well, She Does, and In an Alternate, Ambien-Addled Version of This Dream She Gives Birth to a Fully-Grown, Sentient Cabbage Patch Kid Who Sings The Alphabet Song in German But Replaces the Words to Craft a Song About the Many Uses of Cheese Cloth for the Lactose Intolerant, Even Though Cheese Cloth Contains NO FUCKING DAIRY WHATSOEVER, Being Made of Cotton –Which Wouldn’t Be Unlike Stating That You, as a Man Have an Adam’s Apple, When in All Actuality, the Bible Doesn’t Call Out ANY Fruit in Particular, and as We Cannot Be ENTIRELY CERTAIN of Just Where in the Heck This Garden of Eden Was to Begin With, Our Chances of Correctly Naming a Fruit That May Have Grown There are Greatly Reduced, But We Could Certainly Venture to Guess it to Have Been Like a Fig or Something and Don’t Even Get Me Started on this Rib Nonsense But I Digress –  Non-Stop Until I Shove a Red Plastic Wiffle Ball Bat Down its Throat, But Then I Slip on What Appears to Be the Placenta From This Unholy Birthing Deal, But It’s Made of String and Slime and Old Copies of People Magazine and the Next Thing I Know it Becomes That Weird Falling Dream Dark Blue’ ” discounted return paint section.

But on their walls, it works. It just says “her”, you know? And not simply because she looks like some swollen vampire who just won a pie-eating contest. May her diaphragm always be within arm’s reach, should this actually be the case.

Parental Budgeting 593

Actual conversation in my home (and either damned good reasoning to purchase a Miracle Ear for myself, or one heck of a play to save $.99 on an app):

“Why in the hell would you want super-saggy, aromatic, pocket-sweaty testicles?!”
“No, Dad. I said ‘Supersonic Acrobatic Rocket-Powered Battle-Cars’.”
“Oh… Not sure that sounds much better. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”
“So can I get it?”
“Which one?”
“Never mind. I’ll ask Mom.”
“You’ll speak no such filth to your mother.”
“Just forget it.”

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