Kwazy
Shared on Mon, 08/13/2007 - 16:39There’s a new neighborhood about a two miles down the road from me, but it might as well be in another universe. There's an almost finished home right at the entrance. The asking price is $2.5 million. You could say this is ten times more than my house would be worth on a good day.
“I’d like something in 18th century neo-precocious, please.”
The pizza guy will really appreciate the nice, script address block after your cobblestone drive shakes the shakes loose the radio knob off the dash heater of his ’93 Toyota Corolla.
A bunny hops buy. He tells me he only eats fresh arugula…or maybe in a pinch some skinned baby carrots slightly blanched in olive oil with a smattering of caraway seeds.
The garage has a bell tower. Oh shit, the British are coming!
Are these the new American aristocracy? In time past would these vast tracks of land…meadow and cornfield, serve as their personal fiefdoms? Scares the shit out of me…I want to learn to surf, but not to serf.
If money is no object, at what point does irrelevance morph to irreverence?
Nothing on this house isn’t stone. But rather than stone pieced together by master masons, they’re slapped together by many Mexicans.
Monolithic isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. Actually, it might be the right word.
I’ve got a cordless Dewalt cordless drill with a 1/32” bit. So many copper pipes through which you could drill holes that wouldn’t be found for months...
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Comments
Submitted by hilskie on Wed, 08/15/2007 - 17:55
Submitted by Kwazy on Thu, 08/16/2007 - 16:40
Submitted by ekattan on Mon, 08/13/2007 - 16:44