fireplace

The scary reality many Americans find themselves in:

Was it my favorite closing ever because it took us a good while to find the perfect home?

Yes.

Was it my favorite closing ever because the buyer was so happy that we both got just a little teary-eyed while she signed papers, received her keys, and was handed two garage door openers?

Yes.

Sometimes, I almost feel bad for Mack because he’ll call me up for some reason and it’ll set me off on some tangent and the next thing I know I’m off on a course of action that seems eminently sensible and obviously suggested by his comments and he’s all “What the [bleep]?”

We went to look at a house today.

When I first saw it listed, I thought, “Well, shoot, that’s probably it.”  And we went to see it, Kathy, Mack, the Butcher, and me, and seeing it, I thought, “Well, shoot, this is probably it.”

Here are the drawbacks.

It’s far out.

What kind of woman thinks she's going to find "true love" with the former lead singer of Poison on a reality show? Add to it, you have to degrade yourself by "dancing" with a stripper pole and watch him make out with other women, all I can wonder is where is their self esteem and the Purell?

They don't make enough condoms to get me near someone like him.

We saw a house today.

That’s all I can say about it.

Okay, I can say a little more.

It’s over in Charlotte Park and has a front porch and a fireplace and a huge, friendly kitchen.  And there’s a fenced in back yard and a screened in porch.  And a secret passage between the bedrooms.

And dancing girls.

The New Yorker magazine will push some social boundaries in its July 21st edition.
Barack Obama’s campaign is condemning as “tasteless and offensive” a New Yorker magazine cover that depicts Obama in a turban, fist-bumping his gun-slinging wife.
An American flag burns in their fireplace.
The New Yorker says it’s satire. It certainly will be candy for cable news.
But [...]

NOT photoshopped.

This is the real deal.

The New Yorker is a liberal rag. Why do you suppose we'll see a cover featuring Barack Obama and M'chelle, fist bumping together in the Oval Office, with Baracky dressed like a tribal version of Osama bin Laden (whose picture is on the wall above the fireplace, in which an American flag is burning), and with M'Chelle dressed like a Ché Guevara

If I hear from another person about walking into a home and knowing that it’s right for you, instantly, I will instantly smash their toes with my heel.  I don’t know.  I’ve been in and out of dozens and dozens of houses and I’ve put offers on two and I have yet to walk into any house and say “Oh, yes, this is the one.”