Things I've Pondered This Week: A Rant about Ugly Houses

Out-of-place architecture tops my list of annoying things this week.  First off, the large blocks of minimalist cement have all the warmth of a frosty arctic breeze.  Nothing says “Welcome Home” from a long day of work like a huge slab of cement-colored cement with glass-brick windows.  Well, actually, if your real house-like looking house has an excellent view of the cement slab, eh, I guess you can gaze out your window huddled beneath a Snuggie and feel the brisk arctic chill emanating from the colossal monstrosity that you should be parking your car on instead of looking at out said window.  

I just don’t understand exactly who it might be that enjoys a house that blends, sort of, with the street but absolutely nothing else in the neighborhood.  Or is that the point?  Is it an above-ground fallout shelter?  Is this multi-million dollar blemish on my community someone’s emergency bunker?

Or are they architecturally-challenged?  Did this person not bother to take even a quick gander around the neighborhood prior to requesting the facilitation of poor judgment?  Seriously, the guy who pushes a Jewel cart down my alley every morning has more taste displayed in his overflowing, yet structurally sound, conglomeration of neighborhood waste he slowly creaks from alleyway to alleyway.

And don’t give me some “Oh, it’s avant-garde!” bullshit either.  It’s not.  No one likes your ugly pile of what used to be a stretch of I-90.  Flowers won’t even grow anywhere its shadow falls.  If you really want to look like you have a lot of money, do what everyone else does: buy a BMW.  Hey, buy two.  And some extravagant landscaping.  Don’t hide the fact that you can’t afford furniture for your ugly house by claiming the architecture demands sparse interior decoration.  Everyone knows that you just ran out of money.

And yes, please, by all means, be extremely embarrassed by your lack of style.

Whether you realize it or not, the former neighborhood eyesore, you know, the house with the faux-brick overlay and rancid booger-colored door, peeling paint, obvious mold damage, cracked cement walkway, broken shutters, and overabundance of creepy holiday decorations year round… no one even notices it anymore with your piece of shit being the talk of the community (and not at all in a good way…  actually, in a very bad way).

So, let’s talk about it.  Why?  What’s wrong with you?  Did you not get enough attention as a child?  Do you think your parents will notice you now?  Do you have no one in your life who will tell you the truth when you have a bad idea?  Or did you forget to ask for another’s opinion?

If you really have no one you can trust to tell you the truth, I’ll be here for you.  I’ll let you know what is an acceptable tattoo versus an unacceptable tattoo.  I’ll let you know what constitutes “art” versus what’s just a pile of soup cans.  I’ll clue you in on how, just because an underweight, over-caffeinated model wears something on a runway, that doesn’t mean just anyone should give it a go.   I’d be more than happy to help you pick out your ties, shoes, color-scheme, furniture, house… Whatever you may need to know the truth about, I’m here for you.

And guess what.  I have no desire to join your entourage.  I will not charge a fee for my services.  I won’t expect gifts of expensive jewels from Tiffany’s, or European vacations, or my own island.  Of course, I won’t sleep with you either.  It will be what I  onsider community service.  I’m just trying to be neighborly here.   And, it’s fairly obvious you need a friend, someone who will tell you the truth even when you don’t want to hear it.  It may be a little painful, for both of us, since you’re probably a complete ass hat, but I know I can help.

You’ll probably yell and throw things.  I’ll just give you a solid teacher glare.  If need be, I’ll give you a time out to think about your behavior and actions.  You probably haven’t thought about anyone other than yourself in a while.

You know, they say “no man is an island,” and all that.  Well, it’s true.  Mainly because, if your ugly piece of crap house was on an island somewhere, I’d never be subjected to the foulness of your horrid taste.  But also, I know it because I hear this abomination of architecture as a cry for help.  Well, actually, it’s more of a scream, but you get the idea.  Why don’t you pretend to need to borrow a cup of sugar, which will obviously be a front because nothing will ever get baked in that house (do you even have an oven?), and we’ll talk.  Or take a lovely walk around the neighborhood and discuss what fits in and what does not.  Like your house.  Your house that we can’t even burn to the ground.

Fret not lamb chop, we’ll figure something out whether you request my services or not...